Chapter 10

"Are you in love with him?"

Greg jumped, startled. Not so much by the question itself, although he hadn't been expecting it at breakfast on a Sunday morning, but more because Elaine sounded actually curious. She had a small smile on her lips and she looked at him in a way he hadn't seen in years, a look of genuine interest.

"I...uhm, might be. I mean…. yes. Yes I am." His first instinct had been to deny it, but why would he? They'd been dating for a few months now, and Elaine had her own steady relationship since three months back. And yes, he was very much in love with Mycroft, so there was really no point in trying to pretend otherwise. She smiled. "I'm happy for you" she said, taking a sip of her coffee. During these past months something had changed in their relationship. They'd gone from barely speaking at all, to small-talk, to actual conversations and now they were even friendly and loving towards each other. It was like them finding happiness in other people, had brought them closer together. None of them would ever consider being with the other, but it had made their living together a nice and much more comfortable situation. It had been years since they'd shared a Sunday breakfast like this, and Greg felt happy for the change. But he knew Elaine well, and right now he could tell that she had something on her mind, that she wanted to tell him. He waited patiently for four minutes, while stirring an unnecessary amount of sugar into his coffee. He looked up as she cleared her throat.

"Uhm… I've been thinking Greg. Don't you think it's time we sell the house? I mean, neither of us are hardly ever home anymore. You spend most nights at Mycroft's and I'm mostly at Robert's. It's too big for just the two of us anyway. What do you say?" She exhaled loudly, as though she'd wanted to say this for a very long time.

Greg thought about it. She was right of course. When they'd first bought the house, it had been with the idea that it would soon be occupied by two or three children. But as the years went by, the house felt more and more empty. Neither of them were home much, that was true. And considering the current market, they would probably make a good profit selling it now. He could get a flat of his own, closer to work. Ask Mycroft over to him, for once. It was a bit melancholy considering they'd lived there for a major part of their lives, but he couldn't see why they would keep it. He nodded. "I think you're right, we should sell it. And the profit should be enough for both of us to get a flat, don't you think?"

"Actually… I'm going to move in with Robert. He's already asked me, but I wanted to discuss it with you first. I know it might be a bit soon, but it's not like we're getting any younger." She smiled crookedly. "Besides, I thought you might move in with Mycroft? He probably has enough room in that big-ass house of his." Greg had taken her to see Mycroft's house once, but she hadn't met the man in person.

The idea that he could move in with Mycroft hadn't even occurred to Greg, and he was as astonished by that as by the idea itself. Would they manage it? Living together was a completely different thing than dinner and staying the night a couple of days a week. He imagined himself in that house, having breakfast with Mycroft's assistants, doing the laundry and having his toothbrush next to Mycroft's. It felt weird, almost unnatural. They hadn't talked about it, but he doubted that Mycroft would want him there 24/7. He shook his head. "I'll probably look for my own place, closer to the city." She looked at him for a long time before nodding, not pushing the question. "I'll make an appointment with a broker then, if you're sure about it?" she asked, still a bit hesitantly.

"Yeah, I'm sure." he said, really meaning it. "I think it's time we move on."

Mycroft sat in his office at home, buried in stacks of files and reports. He had approximately three thousand pages to read by tomorrow, but sometime around ten o'clock he realized the impossibility, threw his jacket across an armchair and poured himself a whiskey instead. He'd only taken a sip of it, when the doorbell rang. He sighed. He didn't expect anyone, and company was the last thing he wanted at the moment. He dragged himself out if the chair and walked over to the door, and opened it. Standing outside leaned against the banister, smoking a cigarette and wearing his usual smirk was Sherlock.

"Hello brother". He said coolly. "May I come in?" he asked while passing Mycroft in the doorway. Mycroft closed his eyes, begged for strength, and then turned around to face his younger brother.

"Why are you here?" he asked.

"Don't be unspecific Mycroft, you know how much I hate that."

"Fine. Why are you here, at my house, right now? Why aren't you in Switzerland?" Mycroft asked, his eyes roaming over Sherlock, trying to find out every detail of his brothers current state.

"I'm clean." Sherlock said simply. "Call the doctors if you don't believe me."

He didn't find anything unusual in his trail of deduction, and he had in fact received an e-mail earlier today from his contact in Switzerland, telling him Sherlock was now clean and ready to come home. He just hadn't expected him to be home quite so soon.

"And to answer your question about why I'm here, I want my keys back. If I remember correctly you stole them from my pocket before you sent me off to the end of the world. And if I know you correctly, which I do, you've searched the entire flat in search for any substances which you wouldn't find because I'm not as stupid as to keep it in the flat. And you've probably messed up my sock index again." Sherlock squinted his eyes at Mycroft, as if trying to see if Mycroft really had messed up his sock index.

Mycroft went to his office to retrieve Sherlock's keys from his safe, and froze when he heard Sherlock ask "Have you talked to Lestrade anything?" Sherlock couldn't know, it was impossible. Or was it? Sherlock did have a tendency to find out Mycroft's secrets. If nothing else, he usually did it just because he knew Mycroft would get irritated, but he couldn't possibly know this. Mycroft had done everything in his power to keep his and Greg's relationship an absolute secret.

"No. Why?" he asked nervously as he dropped Sherlock's keys in his outstretched hand.

"Just wondering if he knew about the good news." Sherlock said smirking.

"What good news?" Mycroft swallowed.

"That I'm back. He probably hasn't solved a single case while I was away. Poor thing." he said the last words sarcastically.

"You know, he did manage to do his job remarkably well before you showed up." Mycroft said, a bit too heated, but Sherlock took no notice.

"Oh he'll be thrilled to see me back." Sherlock said as he walked out the door. "Don't call me" he shouted back to Mycroft as he walked out the gate.

"Nice to see you too brother" Mycroft said to the empty hall.

But he couldn't help but smile as he closed the door after Sherlock. The last time he'd seen him, he had been almost unrecognizable, and Mycroft could still see the image of him in the hospital every time he closed his eyes. He was very glad that he could exchange that image to the one he'd just seen. Sherlock, alive and well and very much back to his old self. He returned to his office to get his whiskey. Should he call Greg and tell him about Sherlock? He was halfway through dialing the number when he put his phone down again. He knew Sherlock would probably surprise Greg in one way or another, and Mycroft decided to give him the satisfaction. He was glad to have his brother back, and he hoped with all his heart that this was the last time he had to send him to rehab. A small voice in his head told him he was being naive, and deep down he knew it. But Mycroft tried very hard to ignore it, as he downed the rest of his whiskey, and went to bed.