The Guilt Of A Brother

(Chapter Two)

AN: Okay, so this was supposed to be a one-shot death fic. And because I have a soft spot for Mark Gatiss, I made this. God, I hate that man for making me feel so guilty about killing Mycroft off xxxxx

Summary: Greg doesn't believe Mycroft is dead, just like John doesn't believe it about Sherlock. Greg knows it's stupid but he has to make sure. He heads to Mycroft's house to check.

Greg finds the key with ease, shoving it into the lock and pushing the door open. He walks quietly through the house and upstairs towards Mycroft's bedroom.

When he hears movement, he pauses, ready to attack but the footfalls sound heavy and tired. So, instead, he opens the bedroom door carefully and sees Mycroft sat on the bed, gripping the gun in his hand.

"Mycroft, don't. Please." Greg whispers, watching as sad grey eyes meet his own.

Then puzzlement crosses the younger man's features, as though he can't believe Greg is actually there.

"My, please don't do it. I … love you. I can help you." Greg continues, walking over to the bed and kneeling in front of Mycroft.

"Gregory?" Mycroft whispers, finally daring his voice to speak.

The younger man reaches a hand out to touch Greg's face tentatively.

"I'm here, love." Greg replies, smiling softly. "What are ya playing at, eh? Attempting to top yourself. I thought you'd have learnt that doesn't do any good. Give me that here."

Mycroft drops his gaze to the gun for a moment before hesitantly handing it over to Greg.

Greg nods slowly, placing the gun back on the bedside table.

"How did you know?" Mycroft whispers softly, looking back up at Greg.

"I think ... I had a dream about it. It was weird. And it bloody terrified me." Greg replies sadly, stroking Mycroft's knee.

"Gregory … I … There's a letter. I need you to read it. I don't know if … I can read it to you."

Greg thinks about protesting, about telling Mycroft that the letter was in the dream too but decides against, because Mycroft poured his soul out into that letter and if he's being honest with himself, he wants to read it now knowing that he can tell the younger man everything he wanted to say to him, in person.

Instead, he nods and picks up the envelope, ripping it open to read the contents.

Dear Gregory,

I want you to know the truth. I got caught up in Moriarty's game and unknowingly set my little brother up to commit suicide.

I'm deeply sorry for that. Contrary to what everyone believes, I love my brother dearly and worry about him constantly.

I never meant to hurt him. I was merely trying to prevent him from killing himself playing Moriarty's game. I know how deeply he means to John and I only wanted to protect his safety.

Unfortunately, I have failed. I'm leaving this note because, isn't that what people do? When they want to end their life?

I knew it would be you, Gregory, who would find this letter. My brother teased me saying that you are 'stupidly in love with me', his words, not mine. And I never believed him.

But if you are reading this now, then I know he was correct.

I'm just sorry that I did this to you. I never meant to hurt you either. But given what I did to my own brother, you are better off without me.

But know that I love you too, my dear Gregory. I have for a long time.

Tell John that I am sorry. I never meant to kill the man he loves, I truly wanted to protect him.

And I hope for his sake that Sherlock had a plan. And I hope that he somehow comes back.

But maybe that's just wishful thinking.

I just cannot wait until he 'returns', the guilt is too much for even me to bare.

I'm sorry.

Goodbye, Gregory, My Love.

xx

"Obviously it's written for after my … death but the point remains the same. I was always told that caring was not an advantage. And caring for you was probably the biggest mistake I ever made ... Because now I find myself … somewhat in love with you, Gregory. And I don't think I could handle rejection …"

"I'll never reject you, My. Because, I've fallen in love with you too. I don't know how that happened given the fact that you kidnap me and order me to look after Sherlock, but there you go." Greg interrupts, letting a little chuckle escapes.

"Well, there is no need to order you around anymore. Or kidnap you. Especially since Sherlock is … gone." Mycroft replies, his voice breaking on the last word.

"So, you don't need me anymore." Greg whispers, feeling worried.

"No. But I do want you, Gregory. Very much in fact. The only reason I was doing this was because … of him. I'm more than glad you stopped me, however." Mycroft replies, looking back to Greg and lifting his chin.

Greg smiles warmly, his eyes locking with Mycroft's as he leans up and kisses him.

"I love you, Mycroft Holmes." He whispers into Mycroft's lips.

"And I love you too, Gregory Lestrade." Mycroft replies with a soft smile, before connecting his lips with Greg's again.

"What happened to Sherlock wasn't your fault, Mycroft. You have to believe that. But I'm here for you, as long as you need or want me."

"Oh, I'm more than positive that I will always want you, Gregory." Mycroft replies, letting a smirk cross his lips.

Greg smiles back and blushes bright red, trying to cover it up.

Mycroft chuckles softly, stroking Greg's hair gently and relishing in the softness.

"Do you think he could do it? Fake his own death, I mean?" Greg asks in a whisper, staring at the floor.

"Honestly, Gregory, I hope he has. At least then there is a possibility that he can return." Mycroft replies softly, still stroking Greg's hair.

"Me too."

"You need to sleep. Come on." Mycroft half orders, pulling Greg's arm.

"Promise you won't do anything stupid while I'm asleep?" Greg asks, looking up at Mycroft.

"I have something new to live for now, Gregory. You. So yes, I promise I won't do anything stupid while you're asleep, or awake for that matter." Mycroft smiles genuinely, standing up to slide the older man's jacket off his shoulders.

Greg smiles in response and allows the younger man to strip him; preferring that to the alternative.

When he gets to his pants, Greg stops him, feeling suddenly self-conscious but Mycroft just smiles softly and unbuckles his belt, pulling Greg's pants down and leaving him in just his underwear.

Mycroft steps back to admire the older man properly and a small smile creeps across his lips.

"You're absolutely beautiful, Gregory." He whispers in Greg's ear, gently touching his fingertips to the older man's hips.

Greg moans softly, resting a hand on Mycroft's hip as he tries to calm himself. Once he can breathe without moaning, his hands come up to unbutton Mycroft's shirt.

As each button slides out of the hole and reveals more skin, Greg presses his lips to the pale chest, sighing softly.

"So are you, my love." Greg whispers softly, trailing his hands down Mycroft's chest and causing the younger man to blush.

He quickly divests Mycroft of his trousers and repeats the younger man's earlier actions; looking him up and down with a loving gaze before guiding him back to the bed.

He gently pushes him back and crawls into his side, pulling the thick blanket over them before resting his head on Mycroft's chest.

"You still amaze me, Gregory." Mycroft whispers into Greg's hair.

"Why's that?" Greg asks softly, looking up into the younger man's eyes.

"Because, even though I wanted you to come and find me, I never thought you would." Mycroft whispers softly, inhaling Greg's scent and sighing peacefully.

"I'll always find you, My." Greg whispers back, kissing Mycroft's chest.

"I look forward to it, my dear." Mycroft smiles, kissing Greg's head and hugging him tighter.

"Always. You remember that." Greg replies softly, looking up at his lover and discovering he's already asleep.

He leans up and kisses Mycroft's lips softly, "I love you, My." He whispers, resting his head back on Mycroft's chest and closing his eyes.

For the first time in months, Greg sleeps soundly and the only dreams of himself and Mycroft are those that are a little too explicit for a fresh relationship.