My second chapter, I've got more ready, but I seem to be tinkering with the story a lot the last few days. I've been reading a lot of books lately and it's fueled my inspiration in a massive way. I would like to hear if you like the storyline.

I hope you have as much fun reading it as I had writing it.

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Greg drove back to his apartment, got out of his car and walked into his building checking his postbox, when he felt his pocket vibrating.

Outside. Now please.
A

The message came from an unregistered number. Greg didn't recognize the sender either, but he guessed it had something to do with Mycroft. He turned around, exited the building and immediately spotted a black car with tinted windows. A good looking, tall and broad shouldered black man in a smart suit standing next to the back door holding it open. Greg looked around wearily as he walked towards the vehicle.

"Good evening," he said to the driver who just nodded to Greg as he got into the car and shut the door.

The car looked like it was bigger on the inside. The surfaces were of a high quality finish. The light colored leather looked fantastic with the walnut wood paneling of the doors and the mini-bar. A young woman was already sitting in the car. She appeared to only have eyes for her Blackberry, which made Greg feel very uncomfortable.

"Did Mycroft send you?" he finally asked.

"Yes."

"Right. So you're his assistant?"

"Yes."

"And what does A stand for?"

"Today it's for Anthea."

"Ah."

Greg thought it was rather rude of her to keep working on her Blackberry. The detective in him wanted to draw her out so he kept asking her questions. Seeing if he could find out more about Mycroft.

"So, what is it your boss does for a living?"

"Can't say."

Greg raised an eyebrow.

"Can't or won't?"

"Both."

"Where are you taking me?"

"I don't know."

"Will Mycroft be there?"

"Yes."

"Will you marry me?" Greg tried to unbalance Anthea, but she didn't even look up.

"No."

Suddenly a thought came to Greg's mind. "Are you texting all my questions to your boss?"

"Yes."

Great. Gregg thought. He was tired of this. It had been a long day and night and he wasn't in the mood for games. He just wanted to get out and go home again.

"Stop the car."

"No."

"I want to get out. Now stop the car."

"I can't do that."

Greg got very angry. He looked around to see if there was a way out without using the doors, but remembered them locking when the car had pulled off into traffic as they left his apartment building.

Greg's phone vibrated and he took it out of his pocket.

Please stay in the car. I will explain everything when you get here.
MH

"Great."

The car drove for another thirty minutes or so and they were on the outskirts of London pulling up to some old abandoned buildings. Neither Greg nor Anthea had spoken another word until the car stopped.

"We're here. Just walk into the building across the street," Anthea said, still not looking up from her Blackberry.

Greg got out of the car and crossed the street, contemplating if he should go in. He finally did. It was utterly abandoned and it looked like it had been for years. He found an open door and entered deeper into the building. It was run down, but the roof still looked intact. Some of the windows were broken, but because they were very high up he couldn't feel the draft coming from them. The inside was one big hall, his footsteps echoed and in the middle of the room he found Mycroft standing next to a table. His pace became slower as he took in the sight. Impeccable three-piece-suit Mycroft standing next to a small round table that was lit by candles.

Greg felt his stomach clench and tense up. He was still very angry. Angry for being left alone all this time, not hearing a word. You can be busy. He understood being busy, but there was always time to send a text message. He'd never let his ex-wife in the wind about his whereabouts. He'd always let her know if he was going to be late, or not home at all. Surely Mycroft with all of these people working for him could do the same? And then there was this. This utterly romantic gesture that made Greg feel wanted and very much alive and perhaps even loved. There was no doubt in Greg's mind about the man in front of him being sexy. He'd like to get to know him better, but there would have to be changes.

As Greg got closer he could see Mycroft's face. He looked nervous.

That's what you get for being able to read people's minds.

Greg swallowed hard when he reached Mycroft. They stood there for a minute, staring into each other's eyes.

"I'm sorry," Mycroft spoke softly. "I didn't know I was going to be this long."

"Tell me Mycroft. How much time does it take to sent one bloody text message?" He was angry, his fists balled and his body tense. "If I'd wanted to do this. I could have a long time ago. But I didn't and there's a reason for that." He looked straight into Mycroft's face, teeth clenched in between his sentences. "You know what? Forget about it!" Greg wanted to walk away, back to the entrance hall of the building, but his feet wouldn't move. He looked down and suddenly swelled up with tears, not meaning to cry, but it happened. Greg immediately realized he'd been keeping them at bay for a while.

Mycroft was still looking at Greg, his face tense and serious. He stood absolutely still and spoke very sensitively. "I'm sorry Gregory. I should never have come to your office, knowing I was going away the next day. I ought to have realized sooner that it would be a very difficult time in your life. It's not easy realizing you might be gay. I should have taken better care of you after your first time with a man. I know it's been really hard all these years keeping your inner most feelings to yourself. Never sharing any of that. Then I break into your life, steel your inner most secret from you and opened it up to the world. Please believe me when I say I never meant for this to turn out this way. I just... I just want to see you happy."

Greg, feeling utterly embarrassed about the tears running down his face, removed them quickly with the sleeve of his shirt and looked up at Mycroft. He couldn't speak, fearing he would start crying again, but he nodded slightly, biting his bottom lip to keep it from trembling. Hoping Mycroft would understand what he wanted to say.
Mycroft moved in on Greg as soon as he saw the nod and held him in his arms. Greg taking a moment, but finally hugging the slender man back. They stood there for what seemed like ages, each man holding the other. Not moving. Not speaking. Just standing.
Greg was the first to let go, taking a step back and looking at the well dressed table, smelling the food under the chafing dish on the side table.

"I thought some diner would be nice," said Mycroft. His voice sounded somewhat back to normal. "I've made sure we won't be disturbed."

Greg nodded again and smiled lightly. Mycroft led him to one of the chairs. He then went over to the chafing dish and opened the lid. The wonderful smell of the food was now filling the air around the table. Greg hadn't eaten diner yet and he now realized how hungry he was. He looked at the lid after Mycroft had put it on the side table. The engraved logo read 'Le Gavroche'.

"I didn't know you could order out at Le Gavroche."

"That's because you can't," Mycroft said.

"But how'd you manage this then?"

"The chef owed me a personal favor."

Greg looked at Mycroft and he just smiled back, putting on the sterile looking white heat resistant gloves, before he pulled two full and hot plates out of the chafing dish and put them on the table.

"Some wine?" Mycroft asked.

"Yes, please."

After pouring the wine Mycroft wheeled the side table few feet away so it wouldn't bother them while they were eating. After a few bites Greg started up the conversation again.

"This is really good food. That must have been one big favor he owes you. From what I hear Le Gavroche is fully booked weeks in advance."

"Months," Mycroft added.

Both men engaged in diner conversation as they enjoyed the rich flavors in their food. When they finished their plates, Greg hung back in his chair. Mycroft across the table from him sipping his wine. There was an awkward silence when they both looked at each other. Greg not knowing what to say and thinking the same was true for Mycroft. But he was wrong.

"Where would you like to go from here?"

Greg looked puzzled. "Our relationship?"

"I'm glad you're still calling it a relationship." Mycroft smiled gently, his eyes set on Greg. Looking at him like Sherlock does when he gets a difficult case.

They are more alike than either of them would care to admit.

"I don't know. I've only been in one serious relationship before and that was with a woman. I don't know what to say, how to act, what to do. I'm completely out of my comfort zone."

"Do you trust me?" Mycroft asked. Greg was immediately aware that this wasn't just any question. The Holmes brothers had the best deductive reasoning skills Greg had ever seen, but he wasn't born yesterday. Being with Scotland Yard for almost twenty years had left him with some skills of his own. He watched Mycroft sitting absolutely still, his eyes set on Greg. Probably able to tell what Greg was thinking of right now.

"It's not a trick question," Mycroft added.

"How do you do that? I thought Sherlock was brilliant at this, but you might even be better if that is at all possible."

Mycroft smiled. "You flatter me Gregory."

"Do I trust you?" Greg repeated the question to himself. "I think a lot of people do trust you."

"That's not the answer to my question."

"Perhaps I just don't have an answer to this question. We've only just met, I know your brother reasonably well, but that may not be in favor of you. All we did was have sex for a night. I don't even know what it is you do for a living. Only that it takes you away from your home for weeks, maybe even months and half the country is at your backhand call. You're having me followed, you bugged my fucking house and my office." Greg started to get angry again. "How can I trust someone that does all that?"

"I can explain some of that. I am in a dangerous line of business. When I'm not here I want to make sure the people I care about are out of harm's way." Greg looked troubled, but Mycroft ignored his look. "I know you can take care of yourself, so can Sherlock. But I need to know, I want to be absolutely sure that you are all safe. All the time. I understand you may think ill of me for resorting to this. but for me to be able to do my job to the best of my abilities I need to be sure everyone around me is safe."

Greg thought about this for a moment. He still didn't see how having everyone you know followed kept them out of harm's way. It was a rather extreme measure and probably cost the government a lot of money to keep the surveillance of so many people up, day and night. "I'm very confused Mycroft. I don't understand half the feelings I'm having, therefore I can't say I trust you yet, because I just don't know. I do know that I like you and you're damn sexy in those suits." Mycroft smiled at that. "But I need to sort out my feelings. Not just for you, but for me too."

Mycroft nodded slightly. "I understand," he said looking at the floor. A few moments later he got up from his chair, walked up to Greg and stuck out his hand. Greg hesitated for a moment, not sure what to do, but took the hand anyway. Mycroft smiled and pulled Greg up from his chair into his arms. Mycroft was just a few inches taller than he was. His lips looking so kissable, especially in the candlelight. Music started playing in the background and Mycroft led Greg into a slow dance.

Greg grinned and shook his head. "How do you do that?"

"It's my special power."

"Do you do this to all the boys you pick up?"

"Oh no, you're special."

Butterflies.

They danced and Greg felt amazing which started to confuse him again. He wanted to ask Mycroft so many questions it dazed him. He didn't know where to start.

"I'll answer all your questions later, let's just enjoy this for now."

"You are fucking amazing Mycroft," Greg said and buried his head in Mycroft's shoulder. His questions would have to wait. For now he was just going to enjoy himself and let Mycroft lead him across the room. Greg didn't know how long they danced, but he felt very tired when they stopped.

"Do you want me to take you home?" Mycroft asked.

Greg nodded and they walked towards the door. Once outside the car was waiting for them, now facing the other way. The same man held the door open and both men stepped in. Anthea was not in the car.

"Where's your assistant?"

"Someone has to stay behind to make sure nothing's left."