Sherlock reluctantly walked into his brother's house - the manor, not the ridiculous work flat he kept. He hadn't been invited, but he just had to know the solution to the guardsmen attempted murder. He'd been thinking about it for days, and he found that he was unable to give the wedding his full attention while the case remained unsolved. As much as he hated asking for Mycroft's help, he decided that just this once he would concede to his brother's intellectual superiority. That meant, in no way, that he was happy about it. Infuriated was more like it.

Greg froze when he saw Sherlock in the hallway.
"Sherlock?"
"Lestrade." Sherlock grumbled, continuing to walk towards him.
"What are…"
"Where's Mycroft?" Sherlock demanded.
"Upstairs…" Greg answered, still confused. Sherlock didn't bother answering Greg's unspoken questions and shot past him up the staircase.

"Myc! Sherlock's here!" Greg shouted out after him, just to be sure Mycroft was ready to receive his brother. He then continued to put his dirty cup in the sink, and slowly followed. He could hear parts of the conversation as he approached; mostly Sherlock shouting or grumbling. He was in a very bad mood indeed. Mycroft sounded annoyed, but tired.

He walked into the room - Mycroft's upstairs study - and saw Mycroft standing by the window and Sherlock scowling at him.
"What's going on?" Greg asked as he walked into the room.
"My brother here is demanding information from me. The usual." Mycroft answered, despite not taking his eyes off his brother.
"I have important things to be getting on with Mycroft! Just tell me the answer, and I'll leave."
"No, Sherlock. That is your business, not mine, and I don't want to involve myself."
"But it's important!"
"Hardly, I doubt it will have much significance in your life beyond another report on John's blog. Besides, brother mine, it's cheating."
"Is not!" Sherlock pouted.

Greg still didn't really understand what was happening, but had learnt early on to stay out of Holmes brotherly arguments. Sherlock became childish, vile, and vindictive. Mycroft became overbearing and insufferably condescending. Yes, it was best to just make sure neither party caused physical damage and leave them to it.

Mycroft sighed.
"Let it go, Sherlock."
"Oh, of course you'd say that. Maybe you're not be smart enough to figure it out either, and instead of just saying so, you continue to be a pompous git and make it out like you're oh so high and mighty."
"I assure you, Sherlock, I do know what happened to your guard victim. I of course do not know why, as you have explained merely the situation you found him in, however I do not feel the need to disclose the solution to your problem. It is YOUR problem, Sherlock, and I'm sure if you work that little brain of yours, you'll work it out eventually."

Sherlock snorted. He was running out of ways to make his brother answer him. Simply shouting insults at him only served to annoy him. But, it seemed that he wasn't getting anywhere, so why not?
"Mycroft, you corpulent waste of space! Fine! Keep your oh-so-elegant solution stacked away with your mountain of cake. Be sure to attempt to restrain yourself at the reception, brother, as you may find yourself dragged away naked! Your suits barely stretch over your rotund body as it is!" Sherlock shouted, stomping his foot; and spun around and stormed off.

Greg wasn't really sure what Sherlock had just said, but it involved cake, and so he assumed that he'd called Mycroft fat again. The 'waste of space' comment was also rather uncalled for. Mycroft seemed uncharacteristically hurt by the words, and stood stoic by the window until he heard the front door slam shut. Greg took a few steps forward.

"Just ignore him, Myc." Greg said. Mycroft didn't say anything. He didn't even move. His lip trembled slightly and Greg saw tears forming in his eyes.
"Oh, Myc." Greg uttered and hugged him close. "He was just trying to hurt you, like he always does when he doesn't get his way."
"It's true, though." Mycroft managed to mutter into Gregory's ear.
"No, it's not. You look wonderful, my dear."
"My suits are getting tight again." Mycroft stated dejectedly, as if it was one of the worst things to happen to him.

Greg released him and held his shoulders firmly, looking straight into his eyes.

"Now you listen to me, Mycroft Holmes. I love you, and I honestly do not care what you weigh. If you want to lose weight, I'll support you, but only because I want you to be happy - not because I want you to feel you need to do so for my sake. If you gain more, then that's fine by me… I do always like a little bit of pudge to snuggle into." Greg said, smiling. Mycroft returned his smile, but it remained sad.
"Sherlock discovered early on that my weight was the perfect ammunition for him."
"Yeah, well, he's a bit of a bastard sometimes." Greg said casually, using his thumb to softly stroke Mycroft's cheek.

"Come on, why don't you get your sexy arse into one of your fancy suits and we'll head out to our lunch reservation?" Greg said happily, giving his partner a wink.
"I… I do not wish to go anymore." Mycroft said.
"Why? You're going to let Sherlock's bad mood spoil our lunch?" Greg asked, realising after he spoke that it could have been interpreted as mean. He certainly didn't intend that.
"I have lost my appetite. I do not want to make you feel awkward by eating in front of me whilst I refuse to."
"Mycroft… you can't starve yourself, that's bad for you."
"It has never mattered if it is bad for me, the desire is always there regardless." Mycroft stated, hanging his head.

Greg was starting to get a sense of how deep and complicated Mycroft's body issues were, and his probable eating disorder. He wasn't really sure how to continue the conversation and remain sounding supportive.

"Have… have you always had difficulty with that? Like, eating and stuff?" Greg asked cautiously.
"I don't know about always, but for a very long time. I was quite portly as a child and teenager. I fought myself often regarding eating. Sherlock was a child and would only notice my love of cakes, not the internal struggle associated with them. I would starve myself regularly, and then pudge back out not long after resuming eating. It was clear that starvation wasn't a solution. Those times I'd get particularly depressed about it, thinking nothing I did mattered, I would binge out and eat the things that I restricted myself from - cake included - and Sherlock seems to only remember those instances."
"Why does he still torment you about it? I mean, you clearly are not fat anymore." Greg asked, hoping his comment wouldn't trigger his partner.
"It has remained a constant struggle to maintain my weight, and often I find myself gaining without changing my behaviour. I've been less than vigilant lately in my comfort with you, I regret, and I have found my outfits clinging uncomfortably to my middle."

"Well I haven't noticed." Greg stated blankly, "Nor do I really care if that's the case."
Mycroft shuffled his feet nervously. Greg let his shoulders go, and stood looking at his partner with a concerned, yet loving, expression.
"I don't mean to be dismissive of your struggles, Myc. Really. I just don't want you to get too hung up on this problem, and hope that you knowing that for me it's not an issue might make it easier for you."
"I appreciate your efforts, Gregory."
"So… lunch?"

Mycroft hung his shoulders and sighed.
"As much as I dislike being forced into eating, your charms make it bearable. And I guess it's better than the usual ignorance or even encouragement I received for starving."
"What? Encouragement?" Greg asked incredulously.
"Indeed. As you may not know, the general population believes that only emaciated persons are capable of having an eating disorder. Larger people showing the same signs are either ignored, or even encouraged to continue their self destructive behaviour."
"So people see you starving and praise you for it?"
"Unfortunately. Which of course serves to make the problem worse, as it engrains in one's mind that you are indeed worthless and unworthy of care for behaviour others would get help for."

Greg frowned. He hugged his partner again.
"I don't know what your childhood was like much, Myc, but that sounds horrible. I'm sorry you had to go through that."

Mycroft allowed himself to sink into Gregory's embrace, and hold him close. Greg kissed him, and then broke the hug with a smile.
"But hey, you'd be getting a new suit for the wedding anyway, right? So what does it matter if it's a bit bigger than the others?" Greg suggested.
"No, I am not attending."

Greg laughed.
"Of course you are. Don't let Sherlock intimidate you."
"No, he's not. I'm just not going."

Greg paused and frowned at him. He sounded serious.
"You… really? And when were you going to tell me?"
"I did not receive an invitation, Gregory."
"Yeah well John and Mary know you'll be coming as my date, and… as a matter of fact… I think you were invited." Greg stated, and turned to rifle through a drawer. He tried three more before he found what he was after: his invitation.
"See? I gave this to you when I got it."

Mycroft looked at the card and read that it was indeed addressed to both of them. He flushed red in embarrassment.
"Hey, it's fine, so you are invited after all." Greg beamed hopefully.
"It does not matter, I still am not attending."
"Mycroft! Bugger Sherlock and his big mouth! You're going as my date, and I'm going to show you off to everyone that I managed to bag Sherlock's sexy big brother."

Mycroft looked panicked. His breath quickened and his eyes began to flicker about. Greg noticed that his body had started to shake.
"Myc?"

Mycroft felt like he couldn't breathe. The idea of going to the wedding, where there were so many people… it made his chest feel tight and he just wanted to escape. He began to heave for air.
"Myc! Calm down!" Greg snapped worriedly. Mycroft was having another panic attack.
"Come on, come sit at the desk before you fall over." Greg said soothingly as he guided Mycroft to the chair. Mycroft didn't object, and willingly followed. Greg knelt before him.
"Now, try take some slow, regular breaths for me."
Mycroft nodded and attempted to get control of his breathing. He hated this. He hated breaking down, hated being unable to maintain control of himself and his emotions.

"No… no, whatever you were thinking - don't. It's making things worse." Greg stated, noticing Mycroft's mind whirling and his panic exacerbating.
"Just focus on me. Copy me." Greg said, glad that he'd researched what to do in these situations. He made exaggerated breaths, complete with indicative hand gestures. After a few moments, Mycroft calmed down. He was still shaky, but at least mostly in control again. Greg stood and rubbed circles on the man's back.

"It's… it's not just about what he said, is it?" Greg asked, sighing. He did honestly want to flaunt his man about, but not if it was going to be traumatic for him.
"No." Mycroft said quietly.
"Then tell me what's up." Greg said understandingly. Mycroft eyed him, and then nodded.

"It's not that I don't want to be there for you, Gregory. It's … the people. There's going to be so many people, in a small confined space, for a long time. But not just any people - people that are judgemental of me. They will be staring at us, and judging if I am a suitable person for you. And since it is a social occasion, I will not be able to use my standard façade to deal with being around such a large group of people. I cannot be cold, detached, and uncaring, at a wedding whilst in the company of my partner. That wouldn't be fair on you either. I would get anxious at them, and that would devolve into less than favourable behaviour towards you. And the last thing I want is to offend you, or upset you in any way…"
"I get it, Myc."
"And… you…you do?" Mycroft asked.
"Yeah. I'm glad that you told me. I can see how it'd be an overwhelming experience for you. Sure, I'll be sad and lonely… but I get it. I don't want to make you do anything that uncomfortable for you."

Mycroft leaned backwards and let his head rest on Gregory.
"I do not know what I have done to deserve you, my dear."

Greg chuckled and bent over to kiss him on the top of his head.
"I do expect to be compensated, however." Greg said playfully.
"Oh? And how might I do that?"
"I'll leave that up to you to decide. I'd like to be surprised. As long as it involves food, pampering and your sexy arse, I'm good."

Mycroft blushed and smiled.
"That can be arranged."