Greg pulled out his phone and looked at the conversation he had with Mycroft.

- Gregory, I am glad that you are safe. MH

- As am I. Same to you.

- Good lord, they are expecting me to attend a celebration to honour the prevention of the terror attack. MH

- Just think of the people there… how utterly horrendous. MH

- You'll survive, Myc.

- At least your promotion in the wake of events will be a quieter affair. MH

- Apologies, I do believe you were not to know of that yet. Please act surprised. MH

- How's this? D8

- I do not understand, are you asking me out to dinner? MH

He smiled warmly at the messages. To anyone else, this was simple casual conversation. To anyone who knew Mycroft, and knew his distaste for small talk, knew this was practically desperate attempts to keep Greg talking to him. He chuckled at the last message. He wasn't usually one to use emoticons, but wanted to see how Mycroft would react. He knew Mycroft understood the use of the expression, but chose to instead feign ignorance and cleverly ask for another 'Deight'.

He hadn't responded to that. He didn't know what to say. Yes, he did want to go out for another dinner with Mycroft. He did want to try continue their relationship. He was opposed to the idea of 'starting again', because so much had happened in the relatively short time they'd been together, and they'd both changed a fair amount for the better in that time.

But… he was afraid. He'd spent most of his life being lied to be one person or another, and he frankly was sick of it. He didn't want to commit himself to a life where he knew he'd continue being lied to. But even that thought made him question himself: Mycroft's lies weren't the same as the ones from his exes. He didn't believe that Mycroft would, or even could, cheat on him… so he definitely wasn't worried about that. He just had trepidation in considering a life in the shadows of the British Government.

"He'll only keep things from you to keep you safe, you know."
Greg snapped out of his thoughts and looked at the person suddenly by his side: Mary. He peered over her shoulder and saw that Sherlock and John had left, and Molly was now showing off her fiancé to Mrs Hudson.

"Huh?"
"Mycroft. I can tell you're thinking about it. Trust me, he wouldn't intentionally do anything to hurt you. He elects to suffer himself for the benefit of those he cares about… or the best outcome."

Greg blinked at her a few times. He wasn't sure how Mary knew he was thinking about it, or how she knew what Mycroft was like. They'd not spent much time together.
"How…?" Greg began to ask, but was interrupted.
"I can't tell you how I know. You're just going to have to believe me." Mary said with a knowing smile. Greg could see there was something she wasn't telling him, but let it go.

"I… what if this keeps happening? I don't want to spend my life worried that he's hiding something like this or worse from me." Greg said while exhaling.
"I think he'd be more reluctant to do something like this again, but I understand your point. All I can say is what I said to John: You trusted him not to hurt you, and he broke that trust. He realises his transgression; and so don't lose something important out of fear of being hurt again, especially when he's trying to change and make amends for you."
"…That's what you said to John?"
"Word for word." Mary smiled, and moved back to rejoin the others.

Greg stood and thought about it. Everyone seemed to be telling him the same thing, but it was only now that their words were sinking in.

- Yes. We'll work out details tonight. I'll be home at 6.

Greg read the message a few times before pressing send. He smiled to himself at his wit to be able to say such things for Mycroft to pick up on… like he wasn't so far below Mycroft intellectually as Sherlock often had suggested.

Across London, Mycroft felt his phone buzz. He slid his phone out of his pocket inconspicuously, and beamed upon reading the message. Home. Warmth spread through his chest as the tension in his muscles relaxed. He wasn't even annoyed at being around people in the ceremony anymore. He was so exuberantly overjoyed he still had Gregory that tears welled in his eyes. And he didn't even care that people could see him.
Things are going to be alright.

Greg took a deep breath before opening the front door. He wasn't sure why he was anxious, but he was. He pushed the door open and walked in to the hallway. The first thing he registered was that it was dark. He then noticed that the whole hallway was outlined in little tea-light candles; a line running along the skirting board on each side. He stepped forward to drop his bag on his bed, but looked to the left and peered into the living room. That room was also illuminated with candles. Upon the table rested two large ones in the middle of the table, shedding dancing light upon the place setting for two.

He placed his bag on the floor of his bedroom, and followed the trail of candles down the hall and around the corner to the right. Mycroft's bedroom door was open, for the first time he'd ever seen, and there just beyond the doorway stood the man himself. He was wearing his grey three piece suit, standing stoically tall, and held his hands rested together upon his belly…holding a single red rose.

"Gregory." He spoke softly, his eyes piercing into Greg's soul.
"Myc? What is all this?"
"I am so sorry for what I have done. I hope that one day you will see that I did not mean any harm, and did so only to protect you. The fact that you are willing to give me another chance means more to me than words could express."

Mycroft took a few steps further, and held out the rose for Greg to take.
"I can't promise you that I won't keep things from you anymore… because I know that's just not possible. But I can promise to always consider you, always care for you, and always do everything in my power to protect you from harm."

Greg genially took the rose, his heart pounding. He'd never thought Mycroft Holmes could be this romantic. Part of him, deep down, had always wanted to experience such romantic gestures… but no one had had the inclination in the past.

Those moments watching Gregory's reaction were long and tentative for Mycroft. His hand trembled slightly, which caused Mycroft's eyebrow to flicker briefly. Was it too much? A sudden burst of adrenaline pounded through his system when he saw Gregory drop the rose onto the ground, but he relaxed immediately after as the man stepped forward and grabbed him for a deep kiss.

Mycroft reached out and wrapped his arms around Gregory's waist, revelling in the feeling of the man's strong hands grasping his cheeks. Greg slid his left arm forwards to rest on Mycroft's shoulder, and gently stroke the back of his head. He tingled at feeling Mycroft's warm skin against is, the man's pointed nose pressing against the sensitive skin of his face, and the soft strokes Mycroft's nimble fingers ran along his sides.

Greg broke the kiss, and moved his hands so that he was hugging Mycroft close. He rested his head against his chest, sighed, and gripped him tighter. The British Government had the same idea, and held Gregory firmly; one arm around the man's waist and the other pressed against his back so he could cup the back of Gregory's head.

Greg closed his eyes. After all the hurt and turmoil of the past few days, this was what he needed. Mycroft completed him, and he knew he never wanted to be without him.
"I forgive you, My." Greg uttered softly.

They remained in the warm embrace for some time, healing each other.