Mycroft and Greg:

Across the city from Sherlock, Molly, John, Mary, Abi and Dan, a government official was fast asleep, curled up next to a Scotland Yard detective inspector. Mycroft, like his son Daniel, had been away for the past week and so most of their night had been spent catching up, both physically and by just talking. It hadn't been until half five in the morning. They soon realised this was a mistake.

"Daddy, daddy wake up!" came a small voice, followed by the sound of small feet pattering across the floor leading up to the bed.

"Oof!" Greg Lestrade made a sound like a cushion being deflated as his five-year-old daughter jumped on him. He was awake now.

"Daddy. Look. I made you something!"

Greg opened his eyes slowly, cringing against the light. Maybe scotch at half three wasn't a good idea. He could make out a red card that was covered in pasta and glitter.

"I made you a valentine!" she said excitedly, "And I made one for Uncle Mikey too." Phoebe Lestrade looked over at the lump that was her dad's partner. Greg poked the lump and it groaned.

"What?" said Mycroft Holmes, turning over to face Lestrade, "We were up until the small hours of the morning. What could be so important that you would wake me up?"

"Phoebe made you a valentine!" he said, softly, running his hands through the younger man's hair.

"A what?" he asked, slowly sitting up.

"A valentine, Uncle Mikey, I made you a valentine card at school."

"How sweet." Said Mycroft, rubbing his head. Greg got the cynicism in his voice and elbowed him. "I mean that's lovely, Bee, lovely."

Phoebe smiled at the nickname that Mycroft had for her. No-one else was allowed to call her that but Mycroft. Even though she found him cold and distant at times she really liked him and she really liked the way he took care of her dad.

"Hey, Bee, could you go and put the kettle on?" asked Mycroft, resuming the rubbing of his temple.

Phoebe nodded and complied, running off to the kitchen, humming something.

"Let's not do that again." Mycroft said flat out.

"Do what?" asked Greg, sitting himself up.

"Sex, talking and scotch at half three in the morning all in one night."

Greg smiled. "Oh yeah. Maybe not."

"No." said Mycroft. "I don't think I could stand it."

Greg smiled, "But it was fun." He kissed Mycroft softly, "And I'm so glad your home. Partly because I was fed up living with Sherlock, but mostly because I missed you."

"I missed you too Gregory. So very much."

"Oh yeah… how much?" said Mycroft seductively.

"Hmm, I could show you again…"

"I'd like that…" said Mycroft, leaning in.

"Daddy, the kettle boiled!" Phoebe said from the door.

Mycroft sighed, "Maybe three am make out sessions are the way forward!"

Greg got out of bed, "Happy Valentine's Mike, happy Valentine's!"

THE END