You've got me, baby, are you mine?

by SunnyRea

Sherlock's return from the dead brings Greg and Mycroft back together after more than a year without seeing each other. Will the reunion be for better or worse, can they forgive and maybe start over? -Sequel to "Yours is the only ocean." Third and final in the trilogy-

4. Play

Greg stares at the wall in front of him, paint off–white, probably labeled 'egg shell' or something equally ridiculous. The wall clock to the left reads six fifteen in the morning, sun peeking through the blinds now in confirmation. Greg breathes in and out, legs crossed under the duvet and hands flat over that. His one finger taps a rhythm he does not quite control, one tap, two tap, one tap, two.

He knows exactly when Mycroft wakes up behind and to his right because of how Mycroft's breathing shifts. (Greg wonders if maybe he has spent too much time with Sherlock over the years.)

The minute arm of the clock moves and now the time is six sixteen. Greg breathes slowly, clenches one fist then relaxes his hand again. Mycroft's hand touches Greg's lower back, a slow line over his skin. Greg cocks his head and slides his left hand off his leg to flat on the bed.

"Greg?"

Greg closes his eyes once – the car, Mycroft's voice, the stairs, heat and feeling and happiness – he sighs and rubs his other hand over his face once.

"Greg?"

Greg drops his hand back down onto the duvet again and opens his eyes. The clock reads six seventeen now.

"Greg," Mycroft says for the third time but now with insistence.

"Yes?"

"What is wrong?"

Greg frowns but does not look back at Mycroft. "Can't you tell? You're the smart one."

Greg hears Mycroft sit up against the headboard behind him. "I would prefer you tell me."

Greg shakes his head then shoves the covers off himself. He stands up and searches for his pants on the floor, finding them near the wall.

"Greg…"

"I can't believe this happened." Greg half falls into his pants then stands up straight again, finally turning around to Mycroft still in bed. "It's…" He huffs. "Bloody hell, I'm fifty–one, what is this?"

"Greg, you are reacting –"

"Uh uh." Greg shakes his hand. "Don't pull your 'overreacting' or 'how to react' card here, none of that." Greg sees his trousers on the other side of the bed and walks that way. "I tried to finish this. I really did but you… God."

"Greg, you came inside. I asked you and you came inside; you did not have to. That was not a mistake."

"Really? It wasn't?" Greg picks up his trousers and shakes his head. "Because the ways things between us have been lately tells me it was."

Mycroft sits up straighter, pulls his legs up under himself and hands on the bed. "It was not. I meant everything I said."

Greg pulls on his trousers, buttoning them up as he speaks. "Oh yes, you talk a good game."

"It is not a game!" Mycroft shoves himself off the bed, pants already on probably from sometime in the night, and walks swiftly to Greg. "You are not a game to me! I have made mistakes, yes, but I will not again. You must give me a chance."

"A chance? What do you think we've been doing all summer?"

"We were going slow as you said you would but then decided it was too slow after all!" Mycroft snaps suddenly.

"Oh right?" Greg scoffs. "It was slow not stop."

"I never stopped, not entirely." Mycroft waves a hand to the side. "And I admitted I was wrong, did I not?"

Greg shakes his head. "We can split hairs about your pacing or me rushing or whatever, the point is just because you said all those things how do I know it's not going to fall right back into canceled coffee and harsh sarcasm?"

Mycroft's jaw clenches. "If what I said yesterday really meant this little to you then why did you come inside?"

Greg sighs and rubs a hand over his hair, anger deflating. "It didn't 'mean so little' to me."

"But it was a mistake?"

"I... I don't know, Mycroft."

"Why did you come in then? Why did we have sex last night? Why are you still here?"

"Aren't you supposed to be the one that thinks?"

Mycroft stiffens then frowns. He breathes out once slowly and speaks quietly. "I do not want to fight, Greg, please."

Greg looks away for a moment. His shirt is half draped on the chair near the door. He is not really sure how it got there. He remembers that part of the evening being less frenzied but he was also paying no attention to what Mycroft was doing with his clothing once it came off. Greg looks back at Mycroft still staring at him.

"Okay," Greg replies, "not fighting."

Greg turns and walks to the chair picking up his dress shirt. He pulls it over his shoulders and slides his arms through. He starts buttoning from the bottom then Mycroft steps forward and puts his hand over Greg's. Greg looks up at him.

"Last night was not a mistake," Mycroft says again. "You have to believe that."

Greg looks down at their hands. "I believe you do care."

"As do you; you came inside and you are here now. It is not a mistake. It is a new start."

Greg pulls his hands away and Mycroft does not stop him. Greg puts his hand on his hips. "Mycroft, we've been muddling along for months, why does your speech mean it's a new start now?"

Mycroft frowns. "Did you not listen to me?"

Greg crosses his arms over his chest and glances at the window. "Mycroft I listened and I came in because I wanted to believe you." He looks back at Mycroft. "I want to believe you."

"You can."

"Well, you have to show me that, Mycroft, you can't just say it. You said you're not going to walk away again but..."

"I want to be happy, Greg," Mycroft says. "You told me once that being happy is the most important thing, did you not?"

"I remember."

Mycroft reaches out and touches Greg's wrist. "You make me happy."

"You made me happy too."

"I want to make you happy. I want us to be happy. We were happy last night. I was so happy."

Greg's lip quirks up a little. "It's kind of odd to hear you say happy so many times."

Mycroft chuckles quietly. "My apologies."

Greg's lip quirks up more and he actually smiles. "No, you can say it as much as you want."

"Do you still think this was a mistake?" Mycroft asks instead.

Greg looks away at the bed, the duvet bunched up into the middle now from Greg and Mycroft pushing it aside when they stood up.

"Greg?"

Greg sighs. "I hope not, Mycroft."

"We were happy together, Greg. We can be again. I'll show you."

Greg nods. "All right. Okay." He glances at the clock then back to Mycroft. "Look, I'm going to head out."

Mycroft steps closer to Greg. "Now? Surely you can stay, perhaps have breakfast?"

Greg sighs again. "I buried one of my men yesterday, Mycroft."

"Ah, yes." Mycroft frowns. "I suppose I could have chosen a better time to speak to you."

"Uh, yeah." Greg steps to the side and picks up his uniform jacket from the chair. "I'm just going to go now."

"And what of us?" Mycroft says, standing still in the same spot.

Greg opens his mouth but cannot say anything. He stares at Mycroft and thinks about not thinking at all. Mycroft moves and steps close to Greg. He touches Greg's neck then kisses him. Greg sighs and kisses Mycroft back, runs his hand over the bare skin of Mycroft's side.

"Yes," Greg says quietly.

Mycroft's hands still on Greg's neck. "Yes?"

Greg smiles against Mycroft's lips. "Yes."

Mycroft sighs with contentment. "Good."

"You have to prove it to me, Mycroft, all right?" Greg pulls back a little but still runs his hand up and down over Mycroft's skin, warm and perfect under his fingers. "I want you to."

"I will." Mycroft kisses him again. "I will."

–––––––––

Greg opens the door to his flat at seven–fifteen the next day to find Mycroft standing on the other side, gray three–piece suit and a brown tie with a plaid pattern holding a brown bag in one hand.

"Hi," Greg says.

Mycroft smiles. "Good morning."

Greg rubs a hand through his wet hair and smiles back. "Hi, uh… look, I'm sorry about yesterday. I… I shouldn't have started a fight and left all before seven in the morning. Bit mixed signals there."

Mycroft chuckles. "You should not be apologising."

"It can't always be you."

"Well, you inspire a desire for repentance in me."

"You know I have made some mistakes too, Mycroft."

Mycroft tilts his head. "A few as is usual but not to the degree which I must atone for and, please, do not contradict me on these faults as you are aware of them too so we need not minimalise them. May I come in?"

Greg opens his mouth then sighs. "Yeah." He then steps to the side out of the doorway.

Mycroft walks past Greg into the flat and down the hall. Greg closes the door and watches Mycroft as he stops at the break in the hallway. Mycroft turns his head to look down toward the bedroom. He stands still just looking as Greg walks over to him.

"What?"

"I… well, it has been years since I have been inside your flat."

"It has not –" Then Greg stops himself because, yes, it has; it has been three years.

Mycroft turns half way to look at Greg behind him. Greg just stares back at him. Mycroft glances around again once then turns toward the kitchen. They walk in together and Mycroft picks up Greg's electric kettle.

"I do not believe you had this before?" Mycroft says, flashing it at Greg before he moves to the sink to fill it with water.

"I did, you just never bothered to look for it in the cabinet when you made tea, keeping to your old Victorian habits?"

Mycroft purses his lips. "I see."

Greg gives Mycroft a look then smiles. "Does this mean you are making tea?"

Mycroft points toward the brown bag he brought now sitting on the counter top. "I brought some I thought you might enjoy."

"Yorkshire?"

Mycroft huffs once as he shuts off the faucet. "Please."

Greg raises both eyebrows. "Yorkshire Gold?"

Mycroft chuckles once. "Are you simply trying to amuse me now?"

"Well, it was your brand."

Mycroft raises both eyebrows. He opens his mouth but closes it again almost immediately turning into a smile instead. "Yes. But that is not what I have brought." He shakes his head from side to side once then puts the kettle back on the base and flips the switch at the bottom. "It is something new I have yet to try myself and thought we could both benefit."

Greg smiles. "Right."

Mycroft turns around and opens one cabinet to pull out two mugs. He puts them down on the counter near the kettle.

"So, early morning visit?" Greg asks.

Mycroft opens the drawer between them and pulls out a spoon. "I wished to see you." He closes the drawer and looks up at Greg. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine."

"You did, as you said, bury one of your men yesterday."

Greg nods. "Yeah, well, fine considering then. Not the first person I've lost in the line of duty."

"But under your command?"

Greg purses his lips. "Do you really want to talk about this?"

"Do you?"

"Not before eight o'clock."

Mycroft smiles. "As you wish."

Greg smiles a little then looks down at the floor. He wonders for a moment the last time he mopped in here. Has he ever mopped this floor?

"Greg?" He looks up at Mycroft again. "Are you…" Mycroft clears his throat. "I trust you still wish for the two of us to move forward again?" He pauses, looking Greg up and down once. "Together?"

"I said yes yesterday, didn't I?"

"Well,' light of day,' as they say, though I suppose it only partially fits our situation."

"You know, Mycroft, the reason I was so angry with you before, why I told you I didn't want to see you, was because how much I'd wanted us to work."

Mycroft stares at Greg but says nothing.

Greg smiles and stands up straight again. "Yes, Mycroft, I want to 'move forward' together." He cocks his head. "As you long as you're there with me, really there."

"I am."

"Because I've told you this same thing before."

"I remember."

Greg sighs. "Are we just going to be one of those on again, off again couples?"

"Not if that means we must have another 'off again.'"

Greg chuckles then grins. "You're a difficult man, aren't you, Mycroft?"

Mycroft frowns then sighs, expression turning into a smile. "I am but I shall endeavour to be less so for you. I have promised."

"You did?"

"I am now."

"Oh, well then."

The kettle clicks off beside Mycroft. He turns his head at the sound then takes a step back. He reaches into the bag and pulls out a small box of tea, a brand name Greg does not recognize. Mycroft pulls out two tea bags and drops one in each mug. Then then picks up the kettle and pours water into each mug. He puts the kettle back on the base and slides the spoon on the counter over next to the mugs. Greg smiles.

Mycroft shifts back and picks up the sugar bowl near the wall, adding some to each mug. He stops then looks at Greg. "I… you do still take sugar in your tea?"

Greg smiles. "Just because you haven't been to my flat in a while does not mean my tea preferences have changes in a few months."

Mycroft nods and puts the sugar bowl down. "True."

Greg walks over to the refrigerator before Mycroft can and pulls out the milk, handing it to Mycroft. Mycroft takes the container and leaves it beside the mugs, waiting for the tea to brew.

"Greg." Mycroft touches the spoon again then looks at Greg's face. "How is it real people live life like this, emotions manipulating so much of one's actions and wellbeing? I understand sex and desire; I thought I understood where this could lead when I first pursued you but…" He sighs. "It is all far more complex than I anticipated."

Greg steps over to Mycroft, touches the lapel of his jacket then smiles. "If it makes you feel better, most people don't get it at all."

Mycroft frowns. "I certainly believe that."

Greg laughs. "Mycroft, everyone muddles through life, you can too."

"I would not say I muddle."

Greg raises both eyebrows. "No?"

Mycroft purses his lips. "Usually, but…" Mycroft reaches out and touches Greg's fingers, low by his thigh, griping them then letting go again. "But now I think I may be better. Prior we have always run on my timetable and I think it better you lead on."

Greg grasps Mycroft's fingers. "It's a relationship, Mycroft, not a timetable." Mycroft frowns and Greg squeezes his hand. "But I know what you mean." Greg looks at their mugs of tea, small bubbles still at the edges and the color a deep brown. He looks back to Mycroft. "It is all right to be a bit normal, Mycroft, and we can be. You and me." Greg tilts his head. "I hope."

Mycroft breathes in slowly. "I will not disappoint you." He moves forward one step and kisses Greg's lips. Then he pulls back and picks up the spoon. "Now, tea." Mycroft squeezes out the tea bags, dropping them in the trash then adds a bit of milk to each mug. He stirs then edges one mug toward Greg.

Greg smiles and picks up the tea. "Will I be impressed?"

Mycroft shrugs once as he picks up his own mug. "As it is new to me as well, I do not know. I certainly hope so."

Greg squeezes Mycroft's hand still in his and thinks about the word 'hope' on Mycroft's lips.

–––––––––

Greg rubs the invisible line in the middle of his forehead down the bridge of his nose and back up again. He breathes out once, drops his hand and opens his eyes. He continues to read through the case file on his desk, single murder with multiple stab wounds and what appears to be some type of burns. The evidence at the scene was spotty though hopefully forensics will be able to find something.

Greg picks up his desk phone and dials. "Yes, sir?"

"Donovan, where are the witness statements on the Parker murder?"

"Bradford is entering the last one into the system now, should be up soon. We have contacted the family and they should be coming in a couple hours from now."

"Good, anything to work with from them?"

Donovan grumbles. "Doubtful, sounded like they hadn't spoken to the girl in years."

"Bad blood?"

"Who knows, might be motive in there though?"

"Probably would help to have more than a 'haven't talked in years' hunch there, yeah?"

Donovan chuckles politely. "Of course, sir."

"Tell Bradford to call me when he's done and let me know if you hear from forensics."

"I'll check in myself."

"Go getter."

"Why, yes sir."

Greg smiles and hangs up the phone. He flips a page in the case file then looks up when he feels the presence of someone in his office doorway. It is Bell.

"Sir?" Her jaw is tight, one hand is balled in a fist at her side, and her shoulders are hunched. "May I come in?"

Greg almost stands up but just nods instead and motions to the chair in front of his desk. Bell walks in and sits heavily down in the chair. She slides her palms over her thighs, fists her hands then relaxes her fingers again. She looks at him, presses her lips together and then looks away at the wall behind him.

"Bell?"

"I, uh… I wanted to ask you, sir."

"Yes?"

"Have any the coppers you've worked with been shot before?" She looks at Greg again. "Died?"

Greg breathes in . "Yes."

Bell breathes out. "Yes?"

"I've been a copper since nineteen eighty–seven, Bell."

She smiles but it is hollow on her face. "How many?"

"Bell…"

"More than one? Someone you saw every day? Someone you cared about?"

Greg pushes his chair back from his desk. "I think you should go home, Bell."

She shakes her head. "I can't go home. I don't have a home." She breathes in slowly, closes her eyes once and stays so still. "What the fuck is a home anyway? I didn't even like that flat; Ted picked it. The view was a brick wall. I just liked the rent." She opens her eyes again and grinds her teeth. "What am I supposed to do at home? What would you do? What did you do?"

"Bell, I can't answer these questions for you. It's not the same."

"But it's something!" She snaps suddenly and jumps out of the chair.

Greg stands up as well and comes around his desk. Bell steps back once so the chair is between them. Greg frowns then holds up his hands. "I'm not going to hug you, Bell."

She laughs once in a surprised away. "Good."

"But you shouldn't be here."

She shakes her head. "I have to be."

"We will give you time, Bell. You need it."

"I…"

"DI Lestrade!"

Greg turns his head when hears his name coming from down the hall. He turns quickly to stand in his doorway, half closing the door behind him. He looks around the corner and sees one of the forensics team rushing down his way.

Greg cocks his head. "You had to come up?"

"Yes!" He holds out the piece of paper in his hand. "It was faster. Traces of blood found on the shoes by the door, not the victim's."

Greg looks the report up and down. "Match?"

"Your man Bradford is on that." He grins. "But I certainly hope so."

"Thank you."

When Greg turns back into his office for a moment it appears no one else is there. Greg walks back in and steps around toward his desk. Bell sits on the floor, her back against the drawers on the left side of Greg's desk. She glances up at him then looks away just as quickly to the wall in front of her. Greg breathes out slowly then walks over and sits down in his desk chair. He touches the top of her head with his hand once then pulls away again. He puts the forensics report down on his case file and gets back to work.

–––––––––

Greg stands beside Matthews as the two of them look at the white board in front of them. Matthews writes down the name of their second victim and crosses off the first victim's husband.

"Solid alibi," Matthews explains, "work conference with five others who can confirm at the time in question."

"What about the ex–husband?" Greg says pointing to the first name. "Claudia was married before."

"Still haven't been able to track him down." Matthews picks up the case file from the table. "Got in contact with her brother who supposedly still speaks to the ex but…" Matthews shrugs and puts the file down. "Nothing yet. Parker is looking into it."

"Lovely."

"Sir," Gupta says as she comes in through the glass doors behind them. "Toxicology is in on the second victim, no sleeping pills like with Claudia but she did have traces of something else."

Greg raises both eyebrows and takes the paper from here. "Oh really now?"

"Sergeant?" Gupta says to Matthews.

"Constable?"

"The second victim, Rebecca Palmer, her mother is here to speak with you."

Greg and Matthews look at each other quickly then Matthews walks around the table and out the door. Greg looks at Gupta again and nods. The drugs in the second victim's system certainly indicate a certain level of premeditation. Greg steps back and picks up the case file which Matthews had been looking at earlier.

He adds the paper and points toward the door. "All right, Gupta, you get on evidence. I believe we have some finger prints to check on?"

"In fact, I do."

Greg smiles as they walk out through the doors. The walk down the hall, Gupta walking swiftly and just a bit ahead of Greg. Thus, when Gupta rounds the corner first she stops and turns back to Greg as he reaches her.

"Sir?"

He frowns. "Problem?"

"Well," she glances back toward the rows of desks in the department. "There is a man holding flowers standing in front of your office door."

Greg steps around the corner beside her and sees Mycroft, umbrella in one hand and a small bouquet with blue flowers in the other, standing beside his open office door. Mycroft smiles at Greg.

Gupta frowns and looks up at Greg. "Do you know him?"

Greg gives her a look.

She stares at him for a moment then her eyebrows shoot up. "Oh shi –"

Greg chuckles and turns away before she can finish her expletive, walking over to Mycroft. Greg stops in front of Mycroft, the two of them framing his doorway.

"Hi."

Mycroft glances at the room beside them, numerous officers surreptitiously watching them. "Busy afternoon?"

Greg shrugs. "The usual. Not yours?"

Mycroft breathes in once and clicks his teeth. "A matter of perspective perhaps."

Greg gives him an incredulous look then points down at Mycroft's hand. "You brought flowers?"

"Would you rather I did not?"

"You can bring flowers, I just… well usually people bring flowers with a reason."

"Aren't you the reason?"

Greg smiles. "That was romantic, you know that?"

Mycroft clears his throat. "I do." Then he smiles as well. "I promised to prove it to you."

"Flowers are proof?"

"I hope they help at least."

Mycroft holds out the flowers to Greg. Greg takes them, looks down at leaves and violets and some white flower with blue edges then up at Mycroft again. He nods his head toward his office and they step in, Mycroft closing the door behind them. Greg turns and raises an eyebrow at Mycroft.

"I think perhaps your staff have engaged in enough voyeurism already."

Greg chuckles. "True."

Greg looks around his office and wonders if he has a vase. The last time he had flowers they were from Mycroft so that vase is probably gone. Maybe he could use a coffee mug? If he looks there might be a spare vase or something tall enough in their little department kitchen. For the moment, Greg lays the flowers on top of his filing cabinet.

"Thank you," Greg says indicating the flowers. "They're lovely."

Mycroft smiles. "I should have brought a vase."

Greg smiles, knowing Mycroft could tell what Greg was looking for. He shrugs. "I'm sure I can find something." He steps forward again and kisses Mycroft. "I like them even without a vase."

"Good." Mycroft runs a hand down Greg's arm then steps back. "I do wish I could stay, however, I have work to attend to as I imagine you do as well."

Greg frowns. "You just came to give me flowers?"

"I…" Mycroft's face falls. "Yes."

"Oh no, that's fine." Greg reaches out and squeezes Mycroft's hand. "Know you still have work during the day." He waves his hand around his office. "What we all do, right?"

Mycroft laughs politely and smiles. "Yes, of course."

"That or I'm going to think you'll drop your work for me, become my live in boyfriend just waiting patiently on the couch all day?"

Mycroft sighs and frowns at Greg. "Dramatic?"

"Was it?"

Mycroft's lip quirks then he smiles. "Or you simply wish to tease me?"

Greg smiles. "I never do that." He taps Mycroft's chest with his case file. "Back to your work then. You want to do dinner tonight?"

"Of course, shall I send a car?"

"I… you don't…"

"A joke, Greg."

Greg frowns half–heartedly then kisses Mycroft again. Mycroft slides his hand along Greg's side under his suit jacket then back again as he kisses Greg. Then Mycroft leans back with a 'hmm' noise. He takes two steps back and pulls open the office door.

"Tonight then."

Greg smiles. "Bye."

As Mycroft walks out, umbrella rocking back and forth in his hand, Donovan and Gupta turn at their desks to look at Greg with matching expressions of interested surprise. Greg gives them both a glare before stepping back toward his desk.

–––––––––

Greg walks in a circle around the ready meal section at Sainsbury's. They sell some fairly good pasta creations and Greg still has not decided whether he will cook tonight or not. He did come to the store to buy ingredients to cook but maybe Greg feels lazy. He picks up a container with shell pasta and tomato basil sauce.

"Or not," Greg mutters as he puts the container back and walks further into the store. Suck it up and cook, Lestrade.

Greg's mobile vibrates in his pocket. He pulls it out and clicks answer without bothering to check the name.

"Lestrade."

"Oh yes, brother, say my name. It sounds much more authoritative when you say it." David tries to mimic Greg's voice. "Lestrade here, detective at sounding in command."

Greg chuckles. "Good day?"

"Oh wonderful, two loads of laundry done, finished the new web design and I painted a side table."

Greg blinks. "You painted a table?"

"Yes."

"Why would you paint a table?"

"So it looks better."

Greg frowns more as he holds the mobile against his shoulder with his ear so he can put red peppers in a plastic bag. "And does it?"

"Does it what?"

"Look better?"

David makes an odd noise. "Maybe?"

"So you painting it did not make it look better?"

"You would have to judge for yourself."

"David, why do I care about this table?"

"Well, you are the one who asked about it."

"I did not –"

David starts to laugh. "Oh, enough, Greg. Jane wants to resell it hopefully. Taking up space in our house and eBay is just lovely."

Greg snorts, throwing the pepper bag into his basket and holding the mobile in his hand again. "Well, good luck with the sellers then. You call for a reason?"

"Can't just talk to my brother?"

"Can you?"

David clicks his tongue and Greg can see David doing his best mum head shake. "Now, Greg –"

"Now, David," Greg interrupts.

"I am planning a Lestrade dinner coming up and need to know when you're free."

"When were you thinking?"

"Probably October some time."

Greg frowns again as he picks up a can of tomato paste. "Bit far off, yeah?"

"It's a month away and when your children – I include Claire's in this – when your children are near adults apparently they have lives and must be factored into the time reservation equation."

"You know, sometimes I just like listening to you talk, David, refreshing."

"I will keep that compliment like a medal on my heart."

"See what I mean?"

David laughs. "Of course. So, you keep that in mind and I'll send you possible dates soon. I know you can't help who gets murdered when but try your best."

"I always do." Greg glances down another aisle, sees boxes of tea from top to bottom on a section of shelves. "David, got something to tell you."

"That Claire is still smoking too? I already know that. You know that you two never really quit unless you do it together. Do I need to schedule a meeting with you two?"

"No, not that." Greg picks up a box of Yorkshire Gold and drops it in his basket.

"Well then – Eddie! Oi, what are you –"

"Uncle Greg?"

Greg frowns. "Edward?"

"Edward!" David echoes in the background.

"Look, I'm sorry, I... I just..."

Greg walks down to the end of the aisle, ducking his head. "Edward, what is it?"

"A boy kissed me!" Edward blurts out.

"What?" Greg snaps at the same time he hears David on the other end of the line saying, "What did you just say?"

"James. He kissed me."

"James? With the curls?" David snaps, probably too loudly.

"Yes!" Edward insists.

"Uh huh…" Greg says.

"He kissed me!" Edward repeats.

Greg rubs his forehead. "Okay, right, got it. So what about it?"

"What do I do?" Edward pleads.

"What do you do?" David hisses in the background.

"Dad!" Edward snaps and Greg hears something clatter on the floor. Edward's voice changes clearly back toward the phone. "What do I do?"

Greg sighs as he walks toward the dairy section. "Well..." Greg glances up at the ceiling and wonders why he has to be the go to 'gay' uncle. "Do you want him to kiss you again?"

"I..." Edward groans. "Not really."

"Not really?" Greg says at the same time that David does in the background with vastly different tones of voice.

"He's a good mate, I just..."

Suddenly the line makes a scratching nose and David's voice comes through again. "Yeah, okay, Greg, I'm going to have to call you back."

"Yeah, right, you –" Then the line cuts off.

Greg pulls the mobile away from his ear and taps his mobile against the middle of his forehead. "Guess I'll talk to you about Mycroft later, David, good luck with the son problem." Then he drops his arm and decides to buy too much cheese.

–––––––––

Greg stands beside his car, radio in hand. The paramedics are finally putting the body into the back of an ambulance. Forensics is packing up their gear, one woman standing beside Greg writing final notes onto their onsite report.

"I still think the weapon could be around here," she mutters.

"You had four hours," Greg snaps back.

"It was a rope! There could be fragments, threads!"

"And how long would that take you? You can't search forever."

"It could help the investigation!"

Greg huffs. "So could lab work."

She frowns deeply. "Of course, and when we –"

"When you find more on the body such as a rope fiber?

"That's –"

"What you are left with. We cannot spend twelve hours at every crime scene with magnifying glasses centimeter by centimeter searching for every tiny scrap which might not even be there. Never solve a case then, would we?"

"It's the murder weapon!"

"If you didn't find it in four hours, it is not here to find."

"Sir –"

"Oi!" Greg holds up a hand. "Enough, you gathered evidence aplenty to search though, not to mention trash bags. Talk to Brooks and you two can have a fine time if you like."

She breathes in sharply, hands him her sheet then nods her head. "Yes, sir."

Greg stares at her as she walks back to the car she came in. She has to be, what, twenty–five, fresh in the service? Greg shakes his head and resists rubbing his forehead. He has noticed how much he does that lately and it feels like such a post–fifty gesture. Is he getting that old?

Greg glances down at the sheet, quite thorough on their murder victim and 'cause of death' already predetermined as strangulation; though they will have to get the 'official' verdict after an autopsy. After all, what if someone wanted to kill the bloke twice, poison addition maybe?

Greg's mobile vibrates in his pocket. He pulls it out, sees 'Mycroft' and smiles as he clicks answer. "Hello."

"And how is the crime scene?"

Greg glances around looking for a CCTV camera. He sees one on the building across from him. He takes two steps toward it and raises both eyebrows. He cocks his head and flashes a smile.

Mycroft chuckles through the phone line. "Hello to you too."

"What's up?"

"I was wondering if after you are free from your murder, you would care to have coffee, maybe lunch?"

Greg turns over his other wrist to check the time, near one o'clock. "Haven't eaten yet?"

"Would I ask you to lunch if I had?"

Greg 'hmms' and waves a hand in the air. "Maybe?"

Mycroft chuckles again. "So?"

"Lunch sounds perfect. Send a car."

"I… really?"

Greg snorts. "No, of course not." He points at his car beside him for the CCTV feed. "Give me an hour to wrap this case up for the time being. Brooks is my second so she can wrangle the forensics team and get the ball rolling until I'm back."

"The joys of subordinates."

"And don't you know it. Pick a place?"

"I shall call you again in an hour."

Greg smiles so neither the camera nor his team can see. "Glad you called."

He hears Mycroft make a quiet, pleased noise. "See you soon."

–––––––––

Greg sits across from Mycroft at the long table in Mycroft's upstairs parlor, laptops open between them and a tablet to Mycroft's left. Greg currently writes a report to his superintendent about Avery. Avery went through a disciplinary hearing and the higher ups decided that he did not have to go through an official process with internal affairs. However, Avery was given one month of unpaid leave along with a mark in his record. As Avery's inspector, Greg was called on to make a report of all cases and police activity which Avery was involved with in the last twelve month period. The list is long.

Greg rubs a hand over his face, takes a sip of the coffee near his hand then checks the watch on his wrist. It is nearing ten.

"Christ," Greg mutters and rubs his eyes again.

"Yes?" Mycroft says.

Greg smiles a little at Mycroft seemingly answering to 'Christ.' He glances up over the edge of his laptop, Mycroft still looking at his screen.

"Just this report," Greg says.

Mycroft looks up for a minute then back down again. "Difficult?"

"More like tedious." Greg sighs and presses the enter key. "But has to be done."

"I understand your position."

Greg looks up again. "Tedious national security?"

Mycroft smiles and begins typing. "It can be."

Greg watches him for minute then returns to his report.

08 January 2014: Case number 2014_4_57.

Double murder. Victoria. 24–36 Gullingham Street.

Police Constable Michael Avery third officer on the scene preceded by

Greg minimizes the report and pulls up the case file in the system again. He knows Gupta beat Avery to the scene but does not remember the name of the first officer; not someone from his division.

Across the table Mycroft makes a frustrated noise and hits the keys harder for a few seconds. Clicking away from the file, Greg looks up at Mycroft again. Mycroft frowns and taps the tablet beside him, frowns more then turns back to his computer.

"Everything all right?"

Mycroft huffs. "Fine."

"Do you want some coffee?"

"Coffee will not change this status report to a more positive light so, no, Greg dear, I do not want any coffee," Mycroft growls.

Greg huffs. "It might at least help –"

"Oh, I am sure, but I require less interruption when attempting to handle security leaks than I do mugs of caffeine laden liquid, Greg!"

Greg clicks his teeth and tips his head back down to his computer. "Right." He clicks back into his report and types:

preceded by Constable Parni Gupta and Constable David Sand.

"Greg." Greg glances up, fingers still on the keys, to Mycroft looking back at him. "I apologize."

Greg smiles. "You can be frustrated by work, Mycroft, lot on your plate I imagine."

"But I needn't take that out on you."

Greg tilts his head. "No."

Mycroft threads his fingers and taps his thumbs together. He purses his lips and cocks his head at Greg. Greg frowns and raises his eyebrows. Then Mycroft smiles slowly. He reaches out and closes his laptop. Greg's eyes widen. Then Mycroft stands part way, leans across the table and pushes Greg's laptop closed as well.

"You're freaking me out," Greg says.

Mycroft laughs. "Now, Greg, did you really wish to continue writing your report?"

"I sort of have to."

Mycroft shakes his head. "I think we have done enough work for one night. After all, as you noticed earlier, it is nearly ten."

"I didn't say that out loud."

"You looked at your watch. What else would you be noticing?"

"Maybe the time didn't bother me."

"It did."

Greg sighs with a smile. "It did."

Mycroft stands up and walks around the table. He holds out his hand to Greg. Greg laughs once then takes it while standing up. Mycroft curls his fingers around Greg's then leads them back toward the kitchen.

"You know we've already had dinner, right?"

"I remember."

Mycroft lets go of Greg's hand when they enter the kitchen, new tile on the floor since their first foray into dating but the counter tops are the same. Mycroft stops at the nearer refrigerator and looks at Greg.

"So, what do you think?"

"What do I think of what?"

"Dessert."

Greg chuckles. "Are you going to make something?"

"If you would like me to."

Greg steps forward and taps his fingers on the silver door of the refrigerator. "Are you saying you are stocked to make any dessert I can think of?"

"Perhaps not any."

Greg shakes his head. "You don't have to make something just to apologize for snapping at me."

"Did I say I was doing that?"

"You didn't need to say it."

"I am not apologising." Mycroft points at the room behind them. "I already have. I simply think a break from staring at laptop screens would be beneficial to us both."

"So, dessert instead?"

"I happen to enjoy desserts."

Greg smiles. "I remember."

Mycroft taps the door beside Greg's fingers. "So?"

"Why don't you surprise me?"

Mycroft raises his eyebrows. "Anything?"

Greg shrugs. "Maybe not cake. I think that would take a while."

Mycroft chuckles. "That's it?"

"Should I narrow it down more?"

"No, I am sure I can choose something. In fact I may have a few things already prepared."

Greg makes a face and taps his fingers on the refrigerator door. "Oh my, baking without me, are you?"

Mycroft nods then makes a shooing motion toward Greg as he opens the door to the fridge. Greg grins and steps back. He walks around Mycroft, dragging one hand along Mycroft's side and over his lower back, then pulls one chair around the side of the table so he can sit and watch Mycroft. Mycroft rummages around for a moment, pulling one container from the fridge and then another beside it. Greg smiles, threads his fingers together then props his elbows on the table and rests his chin on his hands. Mycroft opens another cabinet and pulls out two small plates then opens a drawer and takes out some forks. He closes the drawer again then turns fully toward the counter so Greg cannot see what he is doing.

When Mycroft turns around again he holds two small plates with a fruit tart on each, a sliced strawberry lying on each plate. Greg presses his lips together and does not laugh. Mycroft steps toward the table, puts one plate down in front of Greg and the other in front of the empty chair across from the Greg. Mycroft turns back to the counter and picks up the forks. He steps back over and puts one fork beside Greg's plate then sits down in the chair across from Greg, the other fork in hand.

"And there you are," Mycroft says.

Greg lets out a small chuckle. "Classy."

Mycroft raises one eyebrow. "Oh?"

Greg shakes his head. "I'm not judging."

"No?"

Greg presses his fork into the tart, takes a bite, makes a 'hmm' noise then nods twice. "I love it. Thank you."

Mycroft smiles and taps his fork once on the table. "Good. Dessert break then."

Greg smiles, Mycroft smiles back at him and they eat their tarts, fork for fork, across the table and socked feet entwined underneath.

–––––––––

Greg sits on his couch listening to his mobile ring in his ear. Three rings then Claire picks up.

"Hi Greg, how are you?"

"Good. Got something to tell you."

"Whoa, right to it."

"Yes."

"Is this related to Mycroft?"

Greg frowns. "How did –"

"You're got your 'Claire is going to be upset' voice going."

"Other things in my life could upset you."

"Like what?"

"Uh..." Greg rolls his eyes up to the ceiling and bites his lip. "I could probably think of something."

"Just tell me, Greg."

"Got back together with Mycroft."

"Yeah?"

"Yep."

"Really?"

"Just said it, didn't I?"

He hears the clink of plates through the phone then Claire clearing her throat. "I thought you told him you never wanted to see him again?"

"I did."

"I thought you were done with him?"

"I was."

"Well?"

"Apparently I am not done with him and do want to see him."

Claire sighs loudly. "Greg, are you mad? You two have been so back and forth this year, not to mention before that, how do you know this isn't just another up before a bloody down? What is wrong with you? You are fifty years old!"

"Fifty–one."

"That doesn't help your case."

"It's not a case!"

Claire groans. "Greg!"

"It's not been as bad as all that, Claire, not really. Mycroft has made mistakes, been hesitant but I've been pushy and impatient."

"Are you your own counsellor now?" Claire huffs again. "Can't you find anyone else to date?"

Greg sighs, rubs his forehead and wonders if maybe he should have called David first. "Maybe I don't want anyone else, Claire."

"Maybe you're in a downward spiral!"

"Claire, I am not in a downward spiral." Greg heaves himself up off the couch. "He broke my heart once, made mistakes; he didn't burn my flat down or steal money from me or actually hurt me."

"Your feelings count."

Greg chuckles. "That's sweet, Claire, but he has made me very happy too and I want him to continue to do that."

Claire makes a noise which Greg is fairly sure would be categorized as a growl. He hears her say something away from the phone and Colin reply. She sighs and dishes clink again.

"Claire?"

"You can do what you want, Greg. You're an adult."

"You're evading."

"I just said you can do what you want."

"Claire, I want you to be happy for me. It is going to be fine."

"You have an uneven track record."

"But not the worst track record, Claire. A lot has happened and a lot changes over time." Greg chews the edge of his lip. "Look, I'm just telling you and we'll all see how it goes, all right?"

Claire sniffs and clicks her tongue. "Right."

"Good." Greg stares at the wall then walks toward his kitchen. "Look, gotta go now but feel free to call stalk me if you'd like."

"I will."

"Bye, Claire."

Greg hangs up the phone as he walks into his kitchen. He goes to his cabinet and pulls out a beer. He pops the top, get himself a glass then pours the beer into the glass. Greg blows out a breath then clicks his mobile to life again. He pulls up David's number and clicks dial.

Two rings later David answers. "Hey, Greg, sorry I've got Claire on the other line. Can you give me one second?"

Greg takes a big gulp from his glass. "Oh sure, I can wait."

–––––––––

Greg and Mycroft stand side by side in the lift. Mycroft twirls his umbrella around in his hand in slow circles, tip against the metal floor of the lift. Greg shifts back on his heels, hands in his pockets. He glances at Mycroft then back to the numbers on the wall as their floor finally lights up.

"You sure he won't just throw you out?"

Mycroft smirks as the lift doors slide open. "The benefit of his being confined to a hospital bed is that he cannot do that."

"He can try."

"He certainly can."

They walk down the hall until they reach Sherlock's room. Mycroft opens the door without knocking and shuts it again once Greg walks in. Sherlock sighs without glancing up from the mobile in his hands. Mycroft smiles in that pleased yet disdainful way that he only ever seems to use for Sherlock.

"Give it five minutes, will you both?" Greg says before they can start.

Sherlock looks up at that and raises both eyebrows. He glances back and forth between Greg and Mycroft once. He purses his lips, makes a 'hmm' noise then looks back to his mobile.

"Might I enquire –"

"Do you want to?" Greg interrupts.

"As to how you are feeling?" Mycroft finishes flashing a look at Greg.

Greg puts a hand palm up then looks back to Sherlock.

Sherlock tips his mobile down and smiles in a thin line. "I am splendid. Lovely of you to visit. See you later. Much later." Then he pulls his mobile up again, thumbing across the screen.

Mycroft and Greg turn to each other. Turning sharply back to Sherlock, Mycroft opens his mouth but Greg puts a hand on his arm. Mycroft stops and glances at Greg again. Greg smiles then walks around the bed to stand next to Sherlock's side.

Sherlock frowns and ticks his eyes up. "Lestrade?"

"How are you really feeling?"

Sherlock sighs again.

"Can't be happy stuck here? Assume John's been in, help a bit with that?"

Sherlock's mouth twitches in an odd way then he finally puts his mobile down on the sheets over his lower half. "Fortunately for me technology has advanced to points which can keep me connected as I need to be." He shakes the hand still holding his mobile. "Do feel free to phone should an interesting case leave you baffled as usual."

Greg breathes in through his noise slowly and he hears Mycroft scoff derisively behind him. "It is pleasing to see your usual charm has not been lost during your hospital incarceration."

"Try to not be too pleased on my behalf, Mycroft. I would not want to disrupt your usual foul mood."

"Oh, my mood is far from foul, Sherlock, but you may continue to try and make it so."

"Are you both done?" Greg interrupts.

"Never, it seems," Mycroft says.

Greg turns and gives Mycroft a look. Mycroft stares back at him until Greg tilts his head and waves a hand lightly toward Sherlock's bed. Mycroft sighs and taps his umbrella on the floor. "I am pleased to see you looking improved since my last visit."

"You visited?"

Mycroft purses his lips but just smiles slowly. "I did, as you know, and as I have learned from your doctors you should be free from this room before Christmas."

Sherlock sighs. "Oh, how fortunate for all my festive plans."

Greg chuckles. "Be a nice Christmas present, eh?"

Sherlock just gives Greg a look then reaches over to his morphine drip and presses the dosage up a notch. Greg feels Mycroft shift behind him but Mycroft says nothing.

"Going to tell me who shot you yet?" Greg asks though he already knows the answer.

"Does it amuse you to ask me the same question over and over?" Sherlock retorts.

"Maybe."

Mycroft chuckles making both Sherlock and Greg turn to look at him. Mycroft shakes his head and just smiles at Greg. Greg turns back to Sherlock who is frowning.

"I see your relationship is still in fine form or whatever it is you two consider 'good.'"

"I am sorry to disappoint you, Sherlock," Mycroft says from behind Greg.

Greg stifles a laugh just as Mycroft's phone beeps. He pulls it from his pocket then turns away as he answers a call. Greg glances down at Sherlock again. Sherlock looks up at him with a serious expression now, one of his 'time to analyze faces.'

"What?"

"My brother."

Greg raises both eyebrows. "What about him?"

"He's…" Sherlock frowns. "Different."

"Hmm, maybe, why? Thought you didn't think much about him in any respect?"

"No need to jest, Lestrade, he is still my brother despite the many aspects which I prefer to avoid about him."

"Meaning you care?" Sherlock frowns and Greg just chuckles. "All right, maybe he's a bit different but so are you."

"I died and came back to life as well as being recently shot." Sherlock clicks his teeth. "I also performed the duties of best man…"

Greg laughs. "And came through all right, minus the gun shot I suspect."

"I try to avoid those in most instances, but," Sherlock cocks his head. "My brother rarely changes his mind let alone his demeanor or personality. He is set in his ways and behaviors and always has been."

Greg shrugs. "Whatever you say, Sherlock."

"You need not patronize me, Lestrade, you are easier to read than a children's book."

Greg crosses his arms. "So what then?"

Sherlock's eyes shift past Greg to Mycroft speaking softly into his mobile near the door. "Just what did you do?"

Greg glances at Mycroft, umbrella still in hand and a small smile on his face. Greg turns back to Sherlock in the bed. "I told him I never wanted to see him again."

Sherlock's eyes widen, Greg smiles then Mycroft clears his throat. They turn to look at Mycroft no longer on his mobile. He nods once at Sherlock then looks at Greg. "Shall we leave my brother dear back to his solitude?"

Greg glances at Sherlock. "Unless he wants to finger an attempted murderer?" Sherlock rolls his eyes. "Then, yeah, head off."

Mycroft smiles again at Sherlock. "Do rest up brother."

Mycroft closes the door behind them then briefly touches Greg's hair as they walk down the hall. "I trust my brother's interrogation was within appropriate lines?"

Greg snorts. "Thank God."

–––––––––

The paramedics, under the watchful eye of the forensics team, pull the body of a late twenty–something woman from the small pond at the entrance to Postman's Park. Just from Greg's eyeballing he would guess she has been in the water for five plus hours. He checks his watch, sees it is six in the morning, and checks the math in his head.

"Can we get CCTV footage from near here?" Greg says as he turns to Banks behind him. "I'd say at least midnight up to now."

"Maybe two hours before that?" Banks suggests.

Greg nods. "If you want to reel through longer."

He smiles. "I live for it."

Greg nods then turns and walks further into the park. Bell crouches down beside the flower patches around the small stone column which is the center of the little park. Brooks stands a couple meters away from her on the other side of the flowers talking to Bradford. Near the building on the left Sergeant Parker talks to the couple who found the body.

"Anything?" Greg says coming up behind Bell.

She glances back at him, pen on a page in her notebook. She looks down again and points at the edge of the flower bed. Greg cocks his head then crouches down as well.

"Footprint," Bell says.

Greg nods and stands up again. "Looks like."

Bell only nods and makes a note in her book. Brooks walks over with a yellow evidence marker in her hand. She smiles at Greg then leans over to hand the marker to Bell.

"Marker for you."

Bell smiles briefly and puts the marker on the stone path beside the dirt. "Someone from forensics?" She asks Brooks.

"They'll be over soon to photograph." Brooks clears her throat and adjusts her hat. She opens her mouth then closes it again. She looks over at Greg then back to Bell still near the ground writing in her book. "Anything from forensics about the body?"

"Not yet," Bell says as she finally stands up. She puts the book back in the pocket of her staff vest. She turns to Greg. "Sir?"

Greg looks back and forth between them. "Don't have an official time of death yet but probably after midnight from what I can see."

Bell turns around and watches as the body is wheeled carefully down the path. She frowns then turns back to Greg and Brooks.

"Looked like stab wound from my initial check," Brooks adds, taking a step to the side so she can point in the direction of the paramedics and the body. "Harder to see in the water of course."

"But was stabbing the cause of death?" Bell asks.

Brooks smiles. "The twenty pound question, isn't it?"

"Autopsy will help with that," Greg says. "All right, Parker there is on our witnesses and I have Banks looking into CCTV though don't think there are cameras right here in the park."

Brooks shrugs. "Would detract from that green space idea, wouldn't it?"

"And from the memories," Bell says quietly.

Greg and Brooks both turn to Bell but she is no longer looking at them. Her gaze falls on the long wood awning and the marble squares beneath it. Bell steps forward around Brooks and walks over to the awning. She stops near the center of the memorial stones and tilts her head slightly. Brooks glances at Greg. He breathes in slowly then follows Bell.

Greg stops beside her but she does not acknowledge his presence. Greg turns to look at the wall in front of them. Groups of eight white stones in two rows set into a wall of brick recount the selfless deeds of individuals who died saving others. Greg has only been to this park maybe a couple of times; once he can remember when he took the nephews and Kate to see St. Paul's but that was probably six or seven years ago now. The first stone which catches his eye remembers John Clinton, aged 10, "who was drowned near London bridge in trying to save a companion younger than himself," July 16 1894. Greg thinks first of the change of language before anything else, 'younger than himself.'

"I always think when I'm here," Bell says suddenly making Greg start slightly, "would I be the same?" She turns to Greg. "Would I have run back into a burning house, jumped in front of a carriage for a stranger? Would I have saved someone else from drowning before myself?"

"You're a copper, Bell. You would have."

"Would I? How do I know?"

"You know when it happens but you can't think like that."

"And if I don't save them?" Bell pushes on. "If they die too, is it worth it?" She flicks her eyes to the wall for a moment and points to a stone further down. "What if I'm police constable Robert Wright and we all explode? Is it better even?"

"Bell…"

"Would I have put myself in harm's way?" Bell says quietly.

"You don't want to be on this wall, Bell. You want to live."

She turns to him again but she says nothing.

"Sir?" Greg and Bell turn at the sound of Brooks' voice. She walks up to them with the crime scene report in her hand. "There was a wallet in the victim's pocket. We have an ID."

Greg glances at Bell briefly and she nods back at him. Then he turns to Brooks and takes the report from her hand. "Wonderful, now who is our lady of the water?"

–––––––––

Greg writes a short press release on a recent case which they were able to close. The case garnered little media attention but good press for the Met in the form of a case solved is never a bad thing. The court case will not be for several months but on the police side the matter is wrapped. Greg blows out a breath as he reads over what he wrote. Then he sends the document to his superintended for approval.

Greg rubs his eyes then looks at his watch. "Twelve–ten, should get lunch."

Greg drops his arm then smiles. He pulls his mobile out of his pocket and dials Mycroft.

"Yes?" Mycroft answers on the first ring.

"Hi."

"Oh, Greg."

"Were you expecting someone else?"

"As a matter of fact, I was."

"Ah, well, it's me."

"As I hear." Mycroft clears his throat and Greg hears rapid typing in the background. "What is it?"

"Wondering if you wanted to get lunch?"

Mycroft makes a dismissive noise. "It is quite impossible today what with Gaza and then of course the retaliation for –" Mycroft clears his throat again. "Regardless, I cannot possibly be away from my desk."

Greg bites his lip. "Right. Of course."

"I must be off now, Greg, good afternoon."

"Right, bye –" the line cuts off before Greg barely finishes the word.

Greg pulls the mobile away from his ear and stares at it for a minute. He frowns and puts it down on his desk. He clicks his teeth then pulls up his e–mail again. He has some witness detail requests to answer from a case they conferred on with drugs directorate. A friend of his, Scott Chapman, is heading that investigation and Greg likes to generate good stock where he can.

Greg's mobile vibrates on his desk before Greg writes more than a sentence back to Scott.

Greg picks it up without needing to check the name. "Changed your mind?"

"I apologize, Greg, there was no need for me to be short with you."

"Well, you do work in politics."

"I am not certain that was a joke or not."

"Neither am I actually."

"Regardless, Greg, I needn't take out my work frustrations on you and I can certainly find thirty minutes for lunch with you."

Greg smiles slowly. "You sure, what with Gaza and mysterious retaliations elsewhere?"

"I always have my phone should disaster occur."

Greg chuckles. "Oh right."

"And it would improve my day immensely to see you in person."

"I'll drive by your office and pick you up then."

"I…" Greg hears Mycroft clear his throat in an awkward way. "You needn't…"

"Kind of odd having someone pick you up in their car by surprise, isn't it?"

"More pleasing when it is you. Do refrain from using your siren."

Greg grins and minimizes his e–mail, setting his computer to sleep mode. "See you soon, Mycroft."

–––––––––

Greg and Mycroft stand in front of David's front door. Greg recalls a similar gathering a number of years ago when they did this before, must have been David's birthday. He glances at Mycroft beside him. Mycroft bounces his arm against his side lightly but does not look over at Greg.

"Second thoughts?" Greg asks.

"Many."

Greg smiles then knocks on the door. A few seconds later Edward answers the door, Timothy a few steps behind him. Edward's eyes widen for one moment and he smiles awkwardly.

"Hey."

"Hi, Eddie."

Edward's eyes tick to Mycroft but he says nothing else. Timothy smacks Edward on the shoulder. Edward blinks then steps back out of the door way hissing something like 'bugger off' to his younger brother. Mycroft flashes a displeased look in Greg's direction as Greg leads them through the door.

"Good to see you both too."

"Hi, Uncle Greg," Timothy says, "Eddie's just being a twat."

"Oi, you –"

"Don't start," Greg interrupts before Edward begins on his own train of profanity. "And don't say twat."

Timothy huffs. "I'm practically fifteen now!"

"Exactly."

Mycroft chuckles once. Edward rolls his eyes, grabs his brother's collar and shoves him forward toward the living room. Greg and Mycroft follow after just as David walks up.

"Enjoy your welcoming party?"

"Always a pleasure."

David grins. "Happy October, Greg." Then he looks at Mycroft. He cocks his head and smiles less. "Mycroft."

"David." Mycroft glances at Greg then turns back to David, clearing his throat. "David, despite my intentions at the time, I feel I should apologize to you for my unexpected visit to your home some months ago. I imagine I put you in an awkward position nor was it appropriate for me to impose upon you for my own sake." Mycroft breathes in once then smiles. "I may have been… rash."

David opens his mouth, looks at Greg who feels pretty much the same way as David's expression then David turns back to Mycroft. "I… well… right, yeah, okay. Apology accepted."

"Thank you."

"Still have Claire to worry about though."

Mycroft smiles with a bare amount of humor. "I have no doubt."

Greg sighs. "Are we done for the moment?"

Mycroft and David both look at Greg. Greg waves a hand to indicate the living room. David nods and turns around so they can follow him in. Around the corner, Jane sits on one chair talking to Claire. Both women turn as the men walk in. Jane smiles and so does Claire but their expressions are very different. Greg squeezes Mycroft's arm once then steps over to the chairs. Claire stands up and gives him a hug.

"Behave, will you?" Greg hisses in her ear.

"Sure."

Greg pulls back, hands on her shoulders and stares at her, voice low. "I mean it."

She nods. "I'm fine." She holds up both hands.

Greg narrows his eyes at her but she just smiles back.

"Claire?" She looks down at Jane. "Give him a break, yeah?"

"Which one?" Claire asks.

Jane sighs but still smiles. "You still have to show me how to fix this." She holds up her mobile. "I need to add a lock code!"

Claire laughs. "Kids at school get their hands on it?"

"Worse, my sons."

Greg watches Claire a moment longer then turns back around. Mycroft stands near the couch watching him. He raises his eyebrows as Greg looks at him and tries to smile. Greg wants to laugh but he is far too pleased to just see Mycroft here.

"Come on," Greg says waving a hand to Mycroft. "Get you a glass of wine."

"Who says we're having wine?" David interjects from the other side of the couch.

Greg and Mycroft shoot him matching looks of incredulity.

David laughs. "Ah, can't fool you two!"

"Ha ha." Greg turns Mycroft around by the arm and walks them to the right and into the kitchen.

In the kitchen, Kate and Rory hover near the stove. Kate laughs at something Rory says as he adds spice to one of the pots on top.

"Poisoning us?" Greg asks.

They spin around in surprise, Kate knocking a wooden spoon to the floor and Rory almost dropping his drink. Kate laughs high when she sees them and Rory groans.

Rory points to the spoon. "Could have been dinner, yeah?"

Greg grins. "You're the one messing with your dad's cooking."

"Improving it," Rory amends.

"And we said we'd help!" Kate insists.

Greg holds up a hand. "Right, sorry." He glances at Mycroft who appears slightly nauseated by his expression. Greg holds out a hand toward him. "Kate, Rory, this is Mycroft. You may have seen him before but formal introductions needed."

"Yeah," Rory mutters.

Kate smiles nervously and waves a hand. "Hi."

"Mycroft, my niece Kate and nephew Rory."

Mycroft nods slightly. "Pleasure."

Rory snorts then clears his throat in an attempt to cover it up. Kate flashes him a look then smiles back at Greg and Mycroft.

"Uncle Greg's told us… well…" She clears her throat too. "It's nice to meet you." She holds out her hands to indicate the kitchen. "Welcome to Lestrade dinner!"

"Except you're an O'Shea," Rory mutters nudging her with his elbow.

Kate sighs and rolls her eyes. "Whatever."

Greg laughs then walks over to the wine rack on the wall beside the refrigerator. He pulls down a bottle of red then searches through the drawer in front of him for a corkscrew.

Behind him he hears the noise of feet shuffling. Kate makes a humming noise then squeaks and hisses 'stop.'

"Nice suit," Rory says suddenly just as Greg finds the corkscrew.

Greg turns around with bottle and corkscrew in hand. Mycroft looks at Greg then back to Rory.

"Thank you."

"You do wear nice suits," Greg adds and grins.

Mycroft looks at him and smiles just a bit. "Always."

Kate giggles then clears her throat. "I'm going to… go find John!" Then she skirts around Mycroft and out of the kitchen.

Rory frowns in surprise, bites his lip then looks at Greg. Greg shakes his head and waves a hand toward the kitchen door. Rory laughs then follows after Kate. Mycroft's posture eases visibly. Greg puts the bottle and corkscrew down on the island in the middle of the kitchen then turns to find them glasses.

"Will the whole dinner be this…"

"Awkward?" Greg offers.

"Family oriented?"

Greg laughs as he turns around with two glasses in hand. "That really what you mean?"

Mycroft takes the glasses from Greg and puts them beside the bottle on the counter. "I spend very little time with children."

"They're hardly children any longer. Timothy is the youngest and you heard him, near fifteen now."

Mycroft frowns. "I do not believe teenagers are much of an improvement."

Greg stabs the corkscrew into the cork and twists. "Maybe."

"Certainly."

Greg chuckles and pulls the cork out. Mycroft takes the bottle and pours them both some wine. He puts the bottle down again and looks at Greg's glass.

"Yeah, I know, wine but thought, why not?"

Mycroft smiles. "Of course."

"Come on now." Claire appears abruptly in the doorway. "You might be a bit of hot water, Mycroft, with all your waffling about but now is now and that means you need to come out here and mingle with the family." She grins and points between them. "It is a Lestrade dinner."

"I am a Holmes," Mycroft says.

Claire opens her mouth about to retort then Mycroft smirks at her.

Claire gasps. "My God, he made a joke!"

Greg laughs and really wants to kiss Mycroft. "I'm so proud."

"It is only your influence," Mycroft says turning back to Greg, taking a sip of his wine.

Claire chuckles and Greg sees her warming up already. "Okay then, come out of the kitchen so David and Jane can actually finish dinner!"

The three of them return to the living room. David perks up from where he sits on the couch when he sees them and stands up.

"Freeing my kitchen?"

Greg nods. "I touched nothing."

David frowns. "Damn it."

David passes the three of them, patting Mycroft on the shoulder as he goes. Mycroft frowns and shoots a confused look at Greg. Greg only shakes his head back. His siblings appear to be a ball of mixed messages right now when it comes to Mycroft. Greg and Mycroft sit on the couch, Jane in a chair, Claire in another with Rory, Kate, John, and Eddie clustered around the edges on an ottoman, the floor, even John on a side table. Colin has finally appeared seated nearest to the door while Timothy has alternatively disappeared somewhere. Beside him, Mycroft sits at stiff attention and Greg can tell by the points of his smile how much he would rather be almost anywhere else.

They talk for forty–five minutes about John and Kate's first month back at school, Rory at university, mum and dad, the new greenhouse at Colin's store, unanswered questions about Mycroft's work, Eddie's new interest in The Rolling Stones, Kate's 'reinvention' of the color pink; isn't Mycroft's brother that detective guy – Mycroft goes so still Greg is worried he might murder whoever is closest; questions about Greg's division, didn't he lose a constable a few months back – Mycroft's hand touches Greg's briefly when Greg pauses a second too long; new cooperation in Jane's school with London museums, Colin and Claire's anniversary coming up, and where exactly is Timothy?

Mycroft never relaxes during the flow of conversation but he never scowls either.

Jane disappears at one point then ten minutes later David slides into the room, apron around his neck. "Dinner!" He holds his hands out toward the dining room to the left. "Lestrades, go feast!"

"And O'Sheas!" Kate and John say together.

Colin laughs and ruffles Kate's red hair making her groan. Greg smiles at Mycroft. Mycroft smiles a little back then breathes in quickly as they stand up. Greg squeezes his hand.

After a long dinner – soup and potatoes and chicken and custard – the family disperses around the house, Colin declaring he will take care of the dishes.

"The men are in charge around here," he says so Claire kisses him hard and Jane laughs into her hand.

"Don't break my dishes," David says.

"But he would have to buy us new ones," Jane hisses.

David purses his lips. "I retract my last statement."

Greg goes with Colin to get himself and Mycroft a bit more wine, only the third glass in a long dinner. Overall, the dinner seems to be going well to Greg. David and Claire threw in a few digs at Mycroft here and there. David made jokes about the terror alert level – which Mycroft deftly deflected into a commentary on the tube improvements – while Claire asked if Mycroft would still be around come Christmas. Fortunately, Greg's angry glare cut her off for the rest of the meal and Mycroft only ground his teeth in response. In fact, Greg was impressed at how much Mycroft managed to normally socialize through the meal.

"You two all right again?"

Greg looks up from the two glasses on the counter to Colin placing dishes in the skin.

"Hmm?"

"You and him," Colin gestures with his head toward the living room. "All right again?"

Greg smiles and nods. "Think so."

Colin just nods back. "Good."

Greg twists one of the wine glass stems between his fingers. He sometimes forgets about Colin, the quiet, steady gardener his sister chose. Colin and Greg do not talk much but Colin never fails to be supportive.

"Thanks Colin," Greg says as he picks up the glasses and walks out of the kitchen again.

In the living room, John and Eddie arm wrestle in the corner, Kate rolling her eyes as she texts on her mobile beside them. David and Claire sit side by side speaking quietly. Greg looks around into the dining room almost across from the kitchen entrance to see Jane putting leftovers into plastic containers. Greg does not see Mycroft. He looks to the right, takes a guess and walks down the hall out to the back garden. Mycroft stands just outside with a cigarette in his hand. Greg opens the door, lets it fall closed behind him and steps up next to Mycroft.

"You all right?"

Mycroft takes a drag of his cigarette then slowly blows smoke out again. "Fine."

"Brought you more wine."

Mycroft shakes his head and holds up his cigarette. "I am content."

Greg takes a sip from his glass then leans to the right and puts both glasses on a small, dusty table in the corner of the tiny porch they stand on. He puts his hands in his trouser pockets and looks out over the garden, watching Mycroft out of the corner of his eye.

Mycroft flicks ash off the end of his cigarette, glances at Greg, takes another puff then blows out the smoke. "I am trying, Greg," he says as the smoke curls up. "I do hope you see this."

"I do. I know you are."

"I know you are subjected to the worst member of my family on a more regular basis so it should be only right I be subjected to your family, but –"

"You don't have to explain or rationalize, Mycroft. It's always difficult or odd or even awkward with your in–laws."

"We are not married, Greg."

Greg smiles. "You know what I mean."

Mycroft 'hmms' and looks down at his cigarette. "I do not socialize but I am making a concerted effort."

"I know, Mycroft, and thank you." Greg glances at his watch. David will probably want to do a few more drinks. Sometimes the dinner nights drag on to near eleven if on a good kick. Greg turns back to Mycroft. "Want to leave?"

Mycroft turns to look at Greg. "Leave?"

"We've been here more than three hours. I think that's enough to subject you to." Mycroft still looks skeptical so Greg kisses his cheek. "This relationship thing, this 'make an effort,' works both ways. Can't force you into situations you don't like all the time, can I?"

"You don't 'all the time,' Greg."

"Still."

Mycroft smiles. "It is your family, Greg. It is up to you."

Greg touches Mycroft's hand – soft skin, short nails – then looks up again. "Let's go. You finish that and I'll break the news."

Mycroft chuckles quietly and nods. Greg turns around, picks up the wine glasses then opens the door back into the house. He closes it quietly behind him then turns the corner in to the hall. David stands at the mouth of the hallway, arms crossed and leaning with his shoulder against the wall. They stand looking at each other for a moment.

"Greg…"

"David?"

David looks down at the floor, chews his lip then looks up at Greg again. "I just want you to be happy and I am always on your side. Okay?"

"Okay."

"And maybe you are right," David glances over Greg's shoulder then looks back to Greg. "Either way, I'm on your side."

Greg smiles. "I know, David."

–––––––––

Greg clears his throat as he writes on the white board behind him. He lists cases, officers assigned and status.

"No," Brooks says. "Matthews is on that one."

Greg frowns and looks over his shoulder.

"Guilty as charged," Matthews says.

"He offered," Brooks says putting her hands up.

"I had a past case in Manchester with similar circumstances, substance aided murder and that particular drug. It's still fairly new and I have some contacts who are doing research."

Greg nods. "As you will, Matthews, always good to be on the up and up of new drugs."

Banks and Bradford snort with amusement at the same time. Gupta chuckles and pats Matthews on the shoulder beside her. Matthews sighs but smiles for once.

"All right," Greg says as he finishes writing. He puts the marker down then turns back around. "Everything else in line, Brooks?"

Brooks smiles and clears her throat. "Sir, yes, sir."

"Okay, so, as Brooks was so good to check over –" Gupta chuckles again. "You all have cases at the moment. Quick thing, Parker is with us full time now." He points to Sergeant Parker in the back who waves at the room craning their necks toward him. "So, good there. Bell and Cooper recently closed the Monument Tube station case?"

Cooper nods her head toward Bell. "Well, she figured out the link between our victim and the third suspect, the violin player."

"Violin player?" Gupta says with surprise. "Like in the station?"

"Yes," Bell answers, "but that violin player usually plays at Canary Wharf station and this one day –"

"This one day," Cooper jumps in, "she was at Monument and then our victim –"

"We get the idea," Matthews interrupts. "Don't we have more of a meeting to do?"

Half the room groans, Parker looking confused, Banks muttering "such a git, Manchester," Avery shaking his head, while Cooper frowns dramatically in Matthew's direction. Matthews makes a rude gesture toward Banks then looks imploringly at Greg. Greg claps his hands together once and the room quiets down.

"All right, point is, case closed, well done Bell and Cooper. Now, as some of you know there was a big drugs bust this past weekend by some of our esteemed colleagues."

"Esteemed…" Bradford repeats and huffs.

Greg gives him a look then continues. "As a result everyone in forensics is bulled over with work, might take longer on our cases. You need something rush, tell me, I'll make it happen. Otherwise, extra day at least for this week."

"Right, prioritize drugs over murder," Gupta says and flings up her hand. "Perfect sense."

"Crime is crime," Cooper offers.

"Pull the other one."

Banks raises his hand while speaking. "Are we allowed to partake in the forensics analysis? Help out a little?" Banks drops his hand and grins.

Bradford, Brooks, and Cooper all groan while Matthews scoffs with a, "not funny at all."

Greg only shakes his head. "I love my department."

Gupta giggles. "Aw, we love you too, Inspector!"

Greg waves a hand at her. "Enough." He points at the white board. "Keep at these. Any calls today, I am on point and I am electing Bell and Bradford to be my back up, all right?"

"Yes, sir," Bradford says while Bell says, "can't wait."

"Right." Greg clears his throat and holds out his hand to Avery sitting closest to him. "Welcome back to Avery." The room claps, Banks giving Avery's shoulder a shake and Brooks nodding her head encouragingly.

Avery turns part way in his chair to acknowledge the room before turning back again.

Greg nods at him then moves on. "Avery is back to full status and able to assist on any cases. Brooks, I am assigning Avery to you and the homeless murder."

"Perfect," Brooks says as Avery says, "thank you, sir."

"As for his month of leave, I don't want any talk one way or the other. He made a mistake, paid for it and he has my full support. Is that clear?"

The whole room replies with, 'yes, sir' and 'right, sir' and nods of approval. Avery smiles in a thin line at Greg, sitting up straighter in his seat.

Greg glances around the room once then he motions toward the door. "Dismissed."

The department stands up and files out the door. Greg steps over to Bell as she rises from her seat and closes her notebook. She looks up at Greg as he stops in front of her. He smiles and she smiles back at him.

"So?"

"So."

He cocks his head. "Better? Worse?"

She breathes out a slow breath. "Better, a bit." She chuckles once quietly. "I think. It depends on the day."

"But you're still here. Not all cops make it through… well." Greg smiles. "Just saying I've seen people disappear after something like this."

"He wouldn't want that. He knew what being a copper means to me; what it meant to him. I'm not throwing that away."

Greg frowns. "It's not about throwing it away, you know?"

She shakes her head. "Of course, no, I know. It's just…" She looks away for a moment, seeing something else then turns back to him. "I'm trying to not let it change me."

Greg nods. "All right."

"I mean…" She clears her throat. "It will. It has. Of course it has, Ted was…" She shakes her head. "I'm trying to not let it change me too much."

"Good." Shaking her shoulder with one hand, Greg points with his other to the doors. "Back to it then."

Bell smiles. "Yes, sir."

Back in his office, Greg adds two case files to his desk as he sits down. He has an open murder from near Heathrow; probably not airplane related. He opens the second case file, a consultation from another department, when he notices the small box and card next to his laptop. Greg smiles and picks up the card, a dark red. He pulls out the card, MH embossed on the front. He flips it open:

For your case notes.

–Mycroft

Greg smiles and taps the card on his knuckles. Then he puts the card down and pulls the top off the box. Inside is a small, brown notebook. It looks to be the perfect size to fit in his coat pocket. Greg picks it up – feels like leather – and pulls open the magnet latch, lined paper inside. Greg puts the notebook back into the box and pulls his mobile out of his trouser pocket.

Mycroft answers on the second ring. "Hello, Greg."

"You're never going to stop with the surprise presents, are you?"

"If you have tired of them I can stop."

Greg smiles and rocks his chair from side to side. "No."

"Good. I happen to enjoy giving them."

"You know I have a notebook or two for work already, right?"

"But this one is leather bound."

Greg laughs. "Oh, quite right."

"I take it you like it then?" Mycroft asks, a sound like longing in his voice.

Greg touches the edge of the red card, red like a rose, like kissed lips, like a beating heart. He reaches out and picks up the notebook again, flipping it open. This time he notices something written in the front cover and he smiles wide. "Yes, Mycroft, I like it a lot."

The inside cover, in the bottom left cover says;

A gift from your Mycroft

–––––––––

Greg wakes up from a hand running quickly through his hair and a kiss on his lips. Greg murmurs and opens his eyes. He sees Mycroft's smile for just a moment as he turns away again walking across the room. Greg watches as he moves to his wardrobe to pull out a waistcoat to compliment his trousers and shirt. Greg smiles and slowly sits up in bed. He yawns and runs a hand over his hair, no doubt messing it up more.

"What time is it?" He asks

"After seven," Mycroft says as he picks up a red tie.

Greg groans and shifts his legs around off the side of Mycroft's bed to stand up. "Oh lovely, good morning."

"It certainly looks that way."

Greg frowns and glances back to Mycroft. Mycroft smiles and looks Greg up and down. Greg laughs once and just shakes his head. He walks over to the dresser against the wall near the door. He has a few drawers now with clothes here, he thinks. Greg opens the top drawer, picks out an undershirt then pulls it over his head.

"Do I have any shirts here?" Greg asks.

He turns toward Mycroft just as Mycroft walks over holding out a white on white pinstripe shirt.

Greg smiles and takes it from Mycroft. "Thanks."

"Must keep you looking your best."

Greg snorts as he puts his arms through the shirt. "Or at least proper for work."

"At least that."

Greg turns back to the dresser and opens the second drawer which, lucky for him, has some of his trousers. He sticks with black, pulls one out and puts them on, right leg then left leg. Greg tucks in his shirt with one hand while he opens more drawers.

"Don't I have any socks here?" Greg asks as he buttons the top of his trousers, shirt all tucked.

Greg crouches as he finally reaches the bottom drawer then stops after he opens in. On the left side sit two pale green hand towels then on the right are a number of familiar items all lined up. A gray coat lies folded into a tight square next to a watch box. Beside that is a smaller, yet still fine black box about the size for cufflinks or, as Greg knows it is, a tie pin. Above these two is a cardboard box with the image of a French press on the front, one corner ripped slightly. Above that at the top of the drawer is something long wrapped in white tissue paper. Greg picks it up and unwinds the tissue paper. Inside is a familiar champagne glass with a swirling pattern around the base. Next to the box holding the French press is another small box Greg cannot indentify.

Greg stands up, champagne glass still in his hand then turns his head to the right to see Mycroft standing beside the bed watching him. Greg looks down at the glass in his hand, twists it around once so the light from the window to his left shifts and shines.

Greg looks back at Mycroft again. "You kept all these, everything you gave me that I gave back?"

"As you see."

"Why?"

Mycroft drops his hands to his side from where they had been up at his tie and raises both eyebrows. "Do you really need to ask me that?"

"Maybe."

"I told you I never really stopped caring, merely... got in the way of myself."

Greg chuckles. He bends over again, puts the glass back down in the tissue paper then picks up the mystery box. He stands up straight and holds up it. "What is this?"

"You may remember it as the gift you sent back."

Greg frowns. "I did?"

Mycroft smiles. "It was soon after your divorce. I believe you threatened my courier with arrest if he did not take it?"

Greg hisses. "Yeah, do remember that." He laughs and turns the box around in his hand, glancing at Mycroft again. "What is it?"

"You could open it."

"Open a three year old gift?"

"Closer to four now."

Greg taps the box with two fingers then leans over and returns it to its spot in the drawer. "Maybe another time." He stands up straight again. "Leave the mystery."

Mycroft shakes his head. "Whatever you prefer, Greg."

"I prefer you."

Mycroft flushes instantly and bounces his arms against his side. He smiles. "I... good."

Mycroft sits down on the bed, sliding his shoes, which Greg just notices, closer so he can slip his feet in. He is still blushing.

Greg walks over to stand in front of Mycroft as he ties his shoe. Greg touches Mycroft's hair with one hand, brown with that hint of red Greg loves to notice. Mycroft looks up at Greg, sitting up again with only one shoe tied.

"You kept all those things," Greg says, "a year where you didn't even see me and you still kept all that."

"It was just a drawer, Greg, not an imposition."

Greg laughs once. "You still try those deflecting tricks with me?"

"I..."

"I'm glad you kept them." Greg purses his lips then shrugs. "Seems to mean something."

Mycroft breathes in quickly and touches Greg's hip. "I imagine a psychologist could tell me a great deal about what it could mean about my psyche and feelings in regards to you."

Greg chuckles. "Don't think you need to go through all that."

"Greg, I… about the…" Mycroft clears his throat. "I hope it has not gone unnoticed the effort I have been making in regards to –"

Greg touches Mycroft's cheek. "Mycroft, you survived a dinner at my brother's house; think I've noticed the effort."

"Not just that, Greg. I want us to be happy and I hope that you are because I am most sincerely trying."

"I've noticed Mycroft and I am happy. Are you, because you need to be happy too for it all to be right?"

"Yes, Greg, I am quite happy."

Greg smiles. "Then we're doing it right."

Mycroft grips both of Greg's hips tightly. "I do hope so."

"You don't have to worry, Mycroft." Greg waves a hand behind him. "I'm right here."

"I... it is not you being here, its..." Mycroft sighs. "I want to keep you here."

"I do have clothes in drawers," Greg says with a smirk.

"I am not joking, Greg." Mycroft says squeezing Greg's hips to emphasize his point. "I am certainly capable of living life without you but I... I don't... I don't want..."

Mycroft stops talking. He rubs one hand slightly up and down Greg's thigh. He shifts forward so his forehead rests on Greg's chest. Greg rubs a hand over Mycroft's shoulders, strokes his thumb over the back of Mycroft's neck where his shirt collar presses.

"Mycroft?"

"You terrify me," Mycroft whispers.

"I'm not so frightening." Greg brushes his hand over Mycroft's temple and into his hair. "I promise."

"I do not believe you."

"When have I ever lied to you?"

Mycroft leans back and looks up at Greg. "Not once."

"So?"

Mycroft stands up and slides his arms around Greg, close and warm, one shoe on and tie loose, Greg in bare feet on the wood floor. Mycroft kisses him and Greg kisses back and he thinks about presents in a drawer and promises in a car and Greg's lips say 'I trust you' and Mycroft's lips say 'I believe you.'