Greg's phone rang. He was broken out of his shocked stated by the ringtone blaring out into the silence. He looked at the caller ID and saw that it was Mary.
"I'd better take this." Greg stated, answering.
"Hello?"
"Hi Greg, It's Mary. Listen, is John still with you?"
"No, why would he be?"
"Oh, it's just that he said he was going to meet you at the pub after work, but he isn't home yet. It's getting late and I was just wondering if you were still out together."
"No, we're not. We were only there for about half a hour. John left to go speak to Sherlock."
"Oh, that's good then…still, it's been a long time. Maybe it's not so good?"
"I wouldn't worry too much, Mary. Sherlock sometimes just fazes out for hours at a time, or John could still be ranting at him."
"Yeah… still, I'll go over and make sure things are ok. Thanks, Greg."
"Not a problem. Let me know how it goes, yeah?" Greg stated as he hung up the phone.
He returned his attention to Mycroft. The man sat there, looking more vulnerable than ever. But Greg didn't know what to do or say. Everything was still running circles in his head.
"Mycroft, I need some time to think about all of this, ok?" Greg stated, and he saw him drop in disappointment.
"No, that doesn't mean that I am wanting to end things or split up or whatever. It just means that: I need some time to think. I'm not angry at you anymore, but I still feel hurt. I understand it all a lot better, now, but I still need the space to get it all to make sense in my head first, alright?"
"I… I understand, Gregory." Mycroft said, sounding utterly defeated. He closed his eyes, and straightened himself up.
"Please take all the time you need. I'm sure you realise that I will, of course, wait for you. There was never anyone else, Gregory. And I believe there never will be."
"Don't… Mycroft, just don't." Greg stated forcefully. He didn't want to hear it.
"What?"
"I'm not going to sit and listen to emotional extortion."
"Extortion? No, I … I was being honest, Gregory."
"That doesn't mean you're not being manipulative. Is that why you told me the suicide story? To make me feel like you'll take your life if I leave?"
Mycroft's eyes widened in shock.
"God… no! How could you think that? I told you because it's important to me and it regards you. And I don't think I will be able to tell you any other time… I have never spoken about it before to anyone, and I am not accustomed to emotional honesty in this way… and so I took the opportunity whilst sharing with you."
"Well it seems like you're using it as a 'forgive me' kind of statement, since we all know it took me almost dying for John to forgive me. And the fact that it took you so long to recognise my descent into that place makes me seriously consider that you're just lying - because those signs are not something one tends to forget!"
"I have buried that memory deep down, it doesn't come into my consciousness much…"
"Look, we're just getting stuck in the same arguments. Me questioning if you're lying to me, or manipulating me, or … anything. I don't want this to devolve into a fight, alright?"
"Neither do I."
"And so just … let me have that space, ok?"
"Very well." Mycroft spoke, looking unhappy, but then sighing.
Greg stood and walked to the bedroom.
"I'm going to be staying with Sherlock tonight. And until we work this out, ok?"
"You can stay here, I can go to the other-"
"No, I'm going somewhere I can't see you all around me. I need that."
"Yes, dear." Mycroft said softly. He was afraid of causing insult by continuing to call Gregory 'dear', but couldn't help himself.
Greg pulled out a bag and began to shove items into it. He filled it with clothes mostly, and turned around to Mycroft once he'd emptied the wardrobe.
"Where's my pillow?" Greg asked forcefully.
Mycroft flushed red and uttered that it was in his bedroom.
"What's it doing there?"
"I… I felt the need of comfort last night in your absence."
Mycroft left to get said item from his bedroom, while Greg stood unbelieving that Mycroft had just admitted to that. He returned with the pillow, and handed it over to Greg.
"How… how long do you estimate you will be away?" Mycroft asked uncertainly.
"I don't know, Mycroft. I just know I need to sort things out by myself for a bit."
Mycroft nodded softly in the doorway while Greg shoved the pillow into the duffle bag.
"You should have a think, too." Greg said as he lifted the bag onto his shoulder and turned around.
"I have. My mind is resolved. I am unequivocally yours, however you will have me."
"You shouldn't make promises before you know what you are promising." Greg reprimanded, hinting at conditions he might place upon Mycroft in the future.
"Perhaps, but it hardly matters. I will do my very best to atone for my actions and make you happy again."
"Even if that means not talking to me again?" Greg asked pointedly. He wasn't considering that option much anymore, but he decided not to inform Mycroft of that fact.
Mycroft lowered his head.
"Yes."
Greg halted for a moment, but then nodded and walked past him and out into the hall. He felt like he should say something, but nothing came to mind and so he continued towards the door.
"Gregory?"
Greg turned.
"Yes Mycroft?"
"Please do not dismiss your importance in my life. You have impacted me so severely that I am incapable of returning the man I was prior to our association."
Greg gripped the handle of the door as he looked down, thinking over Mycroft's words.
"I don't want you to be that man," Greg uttered softly, "I want you to be happy."
His last words were almost a breath, but Mycroft heard them. And then he was gone, and Mycroft found himself once again staring at his front door within an empty house.
Greg arrived at 221B to find it deserted. He was let in by Mrs Hudson, but she didn't have a clue where everyone was. Greg found it a little disconcerting.
He walked up to John's old room and dumped his bag onto the bed. He didn't bother unpacking anything. He just sat himself next to his duffle, and ran his fingers through his hair. He sighed. He didn't think he'd make any progress rifling through his stormy brain tonight, and so decided to have an early night. He changed into his sleeping shirt, grabbed his pillow and tucked himself in, just letting his bag fall to the floor.
It was a few hours later that Greg woke, his stomach rumbling. He'd forgotten to eat dinner again, having only had that pint of beer since his light lunch. He grumbled to himself and sat up, turning on the light. The house sounded still and quiet. It was approaching midnight, and so he guessed Sherlock must have gone straight to bed. He wasn't sure exactly where he'd gone earlier, but he guessed it didn't matter. He'd ask in the morning while explaining his presence.
He put on some tracksuit pants, some socks, and headed downstairs. He noticed the loud thudding his feet made, and the gentle squeaking of wood as he trod on the stairs. He was suddenly panicked that Sherlock would think there was an intruder and attack him. He cautiously made it to the bottom of the staircase.
"Ah, kitchen. Food." He rasped, just loud enough for Sherlock to hear (should he be listening) so that he'd know who was in his house.
He wandered into the kitchen, but there was still no sign that Sherlock was around and awake. Greg opened the fridge to see what was in, noting the various disgusting containers on the shelves that he decidedly didn't want to know the contents of. There didn't seem to be much… he found some cheese that looked alright. He pulled it out and looked about for some bread. Finding none on the bench or in the cupboards - which were fairly bare, even void of Sherlock's usual experiments he'd encountered on 'drugs busts'. Greg checked the freezer and thankfully found a loaf nestled away in the back.
He set to make himself some toasted cheese sandwiches, taking out the tomato sauce he'd seen in one of the cupboards and squirting a portion out onto the cheese. He did, of course, give it a cursory sniff before using it.
Back in his bedroom, he checked his phone out of habit. He actually had a text from Mary.
- Greg, it's Mary. John was kidnapped, attacked, drugged and put into a bonfire. Sherlock dragged him out in time, but we're all at the hospital. Come if you wish, but there's nothing much to be done now.
Well, fuck.
Greg immediately began to dress himself appropriately to go to the hospital. Once he'd managed to wrangle with his shoes, he grabbed his phone and called Mary.
"What happened? Where are you?"
"Greg… we're at St Bart's."
"I'm so sorry I didn't respond… I…"
"Relax, Greg, he's fine. Well, fine enough."
Greg did relax a little at hearing that John was actually alright. He noted the details for the room, grabbed his keys and headed out. He was glad that he'd brought his car along with him.
Mary and Sherlock were standing outside of the room in St Bart's as Greg came up and joined them.
"Hey." He said, his voice strained.
"Hey, glad to see you could come." Mary said with a smile. Greg noted that it was genuine, and so things weren't as serious as he'd pictured in his head.
"So, what happened?"
Sherlock stood. He looked frustrated.
"Someone kidnapped John. They drugged him, roughed him up a little but nothing too serious, and then buried him in a Guy Fawkes' bonfire. They sent Mary a skip code text message, alerting us to his predicament. We got there as soon as we could, and pulled him from the fire. We called an ambulance, and they took him here. He needs to stay until the drug is out of his system."
"Right. Who did it?"
"I don't know." Sherlock grumbled, obviously upset.
Greg ran his fingers through his hair.
"Is he awake? Can I talk to him?"
"Yes. We were talking to him before but thought he needed a bit of rest. I'm sure he wouldn't mind you saying hello though." Mary said, indicating to the door.
Greg nodded and walked into the room. John stirred and looked up at him, and then smiled faintly. He looked exhausted and a bit dazed, and had taken a blow to the head, but fairly cheerful.
"Hey." Greg said, taking a seat beside him.
"Hey."
"You're not having much luck lately, are you?" Greg chided. John smiled and laughed.
"Doesn't seem so, eh?"
"You alright?"
"Yeah. I'll be fine." John said, nodding, and then closing his eyes. "Killer of a headache though."
"So, when did this happen? I'm sorry I wasn't there to help."
"It's fine, I don't know if you could have done anything, mate. I was standing outside 221 when two guys ambushed me and stuck a needle in my neck. It all gets a bit blurry after that."
"Fuck, John. They just took you off the street in broad daylight?"
"Yep."
"Well, at least we've got a chance at finding them."
"I guess." John uttered, not really interested in finding the men responsible. Greg figured it was just another thing the doctor wanted to just run away from.
"So… you never managed to talk to Sherlock?"
"No. Did you talk with Mycroft?"
"Yes."
"How did it go?"
Greg looked away from John to stare out into nothing directly ahead. He swallowed.
"I know things." Greg uttered distantly, as if he were traumatised.
"Things? What things?" John asked, concern growing.
"I can't say. Big things."
"Alright. So how did it end between you two?"
"I… I said I needed some time to think about it all. Get it all straight in my head, like. He was seriously open and honest with me… like I asked… and, frankly, it was a bit scary. And there's one bit that I don't know if he's lying to try soften me, or if it actually happened. If it did, I'm a bit dazed over it all."
"Right. Well, taking some time is good. But right now, do you think you could forgive him?"
"I'm… I'm not angry, anymore. I still feel hurt, but I think, yeah… I understand why he did it, and I feel like eventually that'll become forgiveness."
They sat there in silence for a while. Greg wanted to tell John he should still talk to Sherlock, but wasn't sure if it was a good idea given the circumstance. But then again, it could be the perfect circumstance - John physically incapable of just turning and running away.
"I still think you should listen to Sherlock."
"I knew you were going to say that."
"Probably because we had a deal, remember?" Greg quipped with a smile. John smiled and nodded.
"Yeah, we did. Alright, if he wants to talk, I'll listen."
"Great. I'll go get him."
John opened his mouth to protest, but knew there was no point. Greg had already leapt from the chair and was giving him a knowing smile from the doorway.
"Sherlock?" Greg asked once he'd shut the door behind him.
"Hm?"
"Listen. John agreed to hear your side of the story… provided I did the same with Mycroft. He was kidnapped while he was standing outside the front of your door, ready to talk with you. And since I did actually have a conversation with Mycroft, he's wanting — or, well, willing — to have that conversation with you now."
"Oh."
"But Sherlock, you have to be careful. John's likely not going to be willing to listen to you talk of this again, so you'd better make this count. Don't just fob it off, or lie. Be honest with him about everything that happened if you still want him around. He can take it."
Sherlock's face crinkled. He was not impressed being told what to do, let alone to be honest, but deep down knew he had to do it. He nodded sternly, and then walked into the room.
"Do we just wait here? Or should we go?" Mary asked.
"I don't know. This could take a while. Sherlock's good at rambling when it's information that doesn't really matter to him personally. With feelings… it's a bit more of a struggle."
"Alright. But what did you mean by, 'he can take it'?"
Greg eyed Mary uncertainly, debating if he should tell her. Deciding that John would likely tell her anyway once he found out, he might as well.
"Sherlock was tortured."
Mary's mouth opened in shock, and her hand flew up to cover her mouth.
"Oh god… really?"
"Yes. He hasn't spoken to me about it in detail, or if the time in Serbia was the only time - just that he's been alone the past two years and it was tough on him. That's 'Sherlock' for some pretty traumatic things. He did it all to protect those he cares about - myself, John, and Mrs Hudson. I just… I hope he's open about it to John, because I know it'd help him understand better. And eventually lead to forgiveness. But John's a bit thick when it comes to deciphering 'Sherlock-ese'."
Mary nodded knowingly, and Greg gave a cheeky grin. Mary seemed to understand John pretty well. They decided to take a walk around the ward and go search for some coffee, chatting about John and Mycroft.