There was something rather comforting about the opening and closing routines of the coffee house, Mycroft had soon discovered after his first few weeks of working at the Diogenes coffee house. He didn't care for the job that much, but he had come to appreciate the routine of setting out cakes, organising stock, cleaning the coffee machine among other tasks at the start and end of the day. The madness of the day, the relentless lunch hour and rude customers made him appreciate the near silence of the start and end of the day. He was on his own when he opened and closed the shop, he always offered to be the one to open and close the shop. He enjoyed the silence and the routine as he went through the procedures, he had almost found it relaxing in a way. He didn't need to deal with customers apart from the occasional early bird or the linger at the end of the day, but they just kept to themselves and they had always tipped generously, so Mycroft didn't mind them that much.
He had never thought that he would enjoy working in the coffee house, he had detested it when he had first started working in the establishment. He hated it when he was placed in front of a large pile of dishes or when he had to deal with the lunch rush. He hated having to deal with customers, he hated having to make their pretentious drinks. He hated most aspects of his job if he had to be perfectly honest.
His mother had made him take the job in the hopes that it would improve his social skills or amend the fact that he lacked them at times. He had reluctantly taken on this trial in the return of financial assistance during his studies, as London was stupidly expensive and so was the price of the textbooks that he couldn't get online or find in the library. It seemed almost impossible that he started to enjoy the job even when he considered it to be beneath him, the free coffee and cakes were probably the redeeming factor to the job.
Mycroft had started up the cleaning rituals for the end of his shift. The day had been surprisingly quiet, and it was something that he did enjoy. The lunch rush wasn't daunting in the slightest and he had managed to cope with it on his own, Anthea wasn't much help, she was nursing a strong hangover which was a result of the staff night out the evening before in the store cupboard and claiming that she was dying for the most of her shift until Mycroft told her to go, as to be frank, the complaining was annoying him.
There was one customer who was in the shop, a univeristy student perhaps, who had been bent over his books for the last few hours. He had arrived at the shop at lunchtime and had barely left his books unless it was to buy a coffee and a sandwich or to go for a cigarette. Mycroft had not seen him before, and as far as he was aware, it was his first time in the shop. He would remember a face like that customers especially with the grin and the awkward small talk he always tried to make when he was at the counter. With the frantic way that he was typing, it was clear that he was working on an assignment or a complex piece of work, especially with the amount of frustrated sighing he would let out and how he would run his fingers through his hair. He was rather intriguing, Mycroft had thought to himself through the day. The customer wasn't the sort who would go to the Diogenes, they tended to be older and more professional people, not students. Not many customers tried to make small talk with him or grin at him as he made them a latte, not many customers would even look up from their computers or anything just to grin at him or to just watch what he was doing, he was normally just invisible to most customers, just a presence who would make them coffee.
He allowed the customer to carry on working even as he started to close up for the night. He didn't normally allow customers to stay after closing, but it was clear that the customer wasn't going to be a bother. He was working on an assignment, and Mycroft felt some sympathy for him. He knew the struggle of assignments even though he was rather intelligent. Mycroft managed to clean around him without an issue, he had managed to perfect the routine so much that he was finished within an hour on his own. The thing that took the most time was for the dishwasher to be emptied and to be cleaned out, and for the floor to be swept and mopped.
As Mycroft had started to clean the floor at the end of the day, the customer looked up from his books and muttered a quick apology. He piled up his dishes and tidied up his own table, and he made his move to grab a mop and a cloth.
"Sorry about staying so late, you should have said something and kicked me out," he said as he started to clean his own table with the cloth he had taken from the table behind him. "I always hate it when customers stay past closing, you always get the ones who are a right pain as well. Is there a spray or something?"
Mycroft blinked in surprise. He didn't know what to really say. He never had a helpful customer in the time that he had been working in the coffee house, most customers ignored him and left as much mess as they physically could. "You don't need to help, I can manage on my own. I do appreciate the gesture though."
"I've basically lived here all afternoon, Mycroft. I might as well help out," The customer shrugged as he was searching for the cleaning spray. He picked up a spray bottle from the counter and he started to wipe down his own table and chairs, humming a song which Mycroft didn't recognise.
Mycroft blinked in surprise once more, not sure how the customer knew his name. He pondered to himself for a few moments as he watched the customer clean up after himself. He had never had to deal with a situation like that before, not even his own brother cleaned up after himself especially with his experiments. He continued to clean up even though he was positive that this wasn't company policy and was allowed.
"It's Greg by the way," the customer said suddenly as he looked up at Mycroft and he gave him that charming grin again. "Shame, I don't have a name badge like yours. I have 'Gregory,' on my badge at work, no one calls me that, not even my nan."
Mycroft scrunched his nose up at the name Greg, it was so frightfully common. He never understood why people went by shortened versions of their names, especially when it wasn't even that much of a struggle to make it to the end of their given name. He detested when people called him 'Mike,' or 'Mikey,'which was even worse. Gregory did seem like a fitting name for him, but he did look like a Greg once Mycroft had tested the name out a few times in his head. He did suit his name in both the long and shortened versions of it.
"You must have people getting your name wrong all the time,"
Mycroft looked up in surprise from the mop bucket. "What?"
"You must get your name butchered all the time," Greg replied, "Mycroft is not exactly a common name, is it? I doubt that half the customers would even bother attempting to say your name, let alone say please and thank you. If you don't mind me saying, half the customers who are here are right pricks. I don't know why people are so rude at times. I know that I am not the most ideal customer, especially with me staying so late but at least I'm a nice bloke...Well, you are the judge of that."
Mycroft let out the ghost of a chuckle, that was a good way to describe half of the patrons who had come into the shop today. "I suspect that you are expecting me to compliment you on your sweeping and thanking you for cleaning up," he replied, a small smile coming onto his features, he looked down at the mop bucket again, suddenly feeling shy especially with the warm bark of a laugh that Greg had let out.
"Well, I won't mind if you do," Greg replied as he walked up to Mycroft and had taken the mop from him. "I have to say that you make one great cup of tea, best cup of tea that I've had since I've been in London. "
Mycroft was going to object to Greg taking the mop from him, but he was shushed by Greg's warm smile and how he was shooed to the sofa in the middle of the shop floor. "Go and sit down, you've been on your feet all day, haven't you? I really don't mind, it's the least that I can do. I've been told that I am an excellent mopper at work before. It's one of my many talents."
"You don't need to," Mycroft insisted quietly, he really didn't know what to do in the situation. He had never had a customer who was so pleasant to him and he was very positive that this was against the rules. He had been in London for the last few months for univeristy and he had yet to meet that many people who were that kind to him other than a few people from work such as Anthea, most people ignored him and he liked that, it allowed him to study without being bothered by trivial things such as friendships. "You've done more than enough...More than what any other customer has ever done. Go home and enjoy your evening, I insist."
"Might as well finish what I've started," Greg replied with a shrug as he started to mop the floor. "It's only going to take five more minutes, and I've already outstayed my welcome here. You are a pretty nice bloke to talk to, I've barely met anyone since I've moved. It's a massive change from being in a village where everyone knows everyone's business. I'm feeling that I am a bit of a small fish in a massive ocean."
"When did you arrive in London?" Mycroft asked, he decided to be at least a little bit helpful and he started to make two cups of tea in takeaway cups. He was allowed as much free tea as he wished, it was his favourite part of the job. He placed Greg's tea on the counter with the carton of milk from the fridge and a few sugar packets, so that Greg could help himself when he was ready.
"I've been studying in London for the last year, I just commuted and crashed on a few mates sofas," Greg said as he scrubbed the floor with the mop, making the task look effortless. "I've just moved up here properly a month ago. Figured that it made sense to do so, especially since I want to work for Scotland Yard one day, actually make something of myself, you know? What about yourself? I wouldn't expect a posh bloke like you to be working a job like this, not to be rude or anything. You just look like the blokes who giving drink orders to the person behind the counter, instead of the other way about."
"It's nothing too exciting," Mycroft replied as he made his own tea, deciding that he needed two sugars instead of his sweetener to cope with the events of the night. His mother would be proud of him, speaking to a stranger that he actually liked. "London is the place to be for opportunities, I have always been fond of the city, myself. It has an interesting history to it as well. "
"You are not too fond of the London prices though?" Greg asked with a grin on his face. "You never realise how good you have it at home until you've left. That's what my mum always said right before I moved out, like always, she's right."
"The expenses do add up rather quickly, I am rather fond of the fact that I can get free cups of tea by working here," said Mycroft. He quickly put the mop and bucket into the storage cupboard when Greg had indicated that he had finished cleaning. He thanked him quietly and passed him the takeaway cup and which Greg put the milk and three sugars in his tea.
Mycroft struggled to put the lid on his own cup, it was something that he always had difficulty with and he always managed to spill tea on his clothes when he tried to drink. Greg took the cup from him and placed the lid on tight for him, his hand brushing against Mycroft's own.
"I guess that this is the last bit of teamwork for the night," Greg replied with a small grin as he handed the cup back to Mycroft.
That small gesture, even if it was so simple, felt like electricity and that the world had stopped for one brief moment.
Mycroft quietly thanked him before he went to the storage cupboard where he kept his coat and his umbrella and took his time getting himself ready in the attempt to understand what was going on. He counted to one hundred before he left the cupboard and switched off the lights to the shop. Greg was outside the shop smoking, clearly waiting for him. Mycroft walked out of the shop and stuck the key through the letterbox and opened up his umbrella in the attempt to shield himself against the light drizzle of rain that was falling.
"Fancy a smoke?" Greg asked, offering Mycroft the box of cigarettes, a cheap brand by the look and smell of the box.
"I shouldn't," Mycroft commented before he had taken one of the cigarettes from the box. He smelt the cigarette discreetly before it was lit, Greg's hand protecting his flame from his lighter against the wind. He took a puff of his cigarette and coughed a little, it didn't agree with him. He still smoked like a beginner.
He put out his cigarette against the brick wall and disposed of it appropriately, as Greg looked at him with amusement painted over his features as he put out his own cigarette. "I hope that you didn't mind me bothering you this evening. I stuck a fiver in the tip jar when you were getting your coat, that should make up for me using the internet all afternoon. My internet is terrible and I can't study in the library, people never follow the no talking and no phone rules."
"I can easily say that you have been the most considerate customer that I've had in the time I've been working here," Mycroft replied. "It was kind of you to provide assitance even though it was unneeded."
"It's not like I had anything better to do tonight anyway," Greg replied with a shrug as he threw his rucksack over his shoulder. "You are a pretty cool guy, Mycroft. Thanks for letting me stay and for the tea."
He had never been throught of that before. Mycroft didn't know what to say and just murmed something in response. He had never had a customer who was this intreging before, a completle stranger who was just so warm and helpful towards him. He doubted that he would even see Greg again, or feel that jolt of electricty he felt ever again.
"I'll let you get on with your night," Greg replied, his cheeks starting to turn pink from the cold. "I'll see you around , might even pop in again sometime soon."
Greg turned his heel and he started to walk off to the bus stop. Mycroft watched him for a few moments and was surprised when Greg waved to him once he got onto the double decker that appered. Mycroft had found himself waving back to him, and felt an inexpicable sense of sadness when the bus moved away.
He could not really process the events that had happened that evening. How he managed to contect with a stranger almost instatly since he had arrived in London. The feeling of electricty running through his vains after a small and unmportant gesutre of kindness. There was the feeling of sadness and almost elation for the possibility of Greg visiting the shop again. It seeemed almost impossible to explain what happened that night.
The only thing that Mycroft was sure about was the fact that he had a new reseason to enjoy work, and it wasn't just the free tea and cake.