Author's Note: The plot thickens. Hang with me, people. This one is fun to draw out. Don't hate me.

"Good God!" Mycroft closed the browser window with a hurried click and shut the laptop, casting a furtive glance around, even though he was alone in the hotel room. The pink creep of embarrassment (and possibly arousal?) flushed his cheeks as he went over what he'd just researched.

Apparently, there was a quite a lot more to gay sex than he'd previously believed. Or had been instructed. Perhaps that was why it had all gone tits-up, to use Greg's vernacular, at his previous attempts. Greg.

A wistful smile turned up the corners of his mouth. Greg probably knew everything there was to know about the subject. Hell, the man could probably write a book about it. A very detailed and descriptive book, at that.

It had been the better part of a week since their date, and the details were still fresh in his mind. The feel of Greg's strong hands, warm and sure, the press of his lips on his skin, hot and fevered. A shiver ran down Mycroft's spine at the memory. Unfortunately, duty to Queen and country had him holed up here in Prague, doing his best to avoid an international incident between the Empire and factions of the former Eastern bloc. Things were going well diplomatically and he hoped to be home soon, the promise of a second encounter with the DI lingering long on his mind.

This waiting was killing him. The longer he was gone, the more the agreement to take things slow was beginning to lose its luster. He frowned as he recognized the impatience in himself; Mycroft was not a man above eschewing timing in favor of the proper outcome, but now, all he wanted was to be in Greg's arms again putting his newfound knowledge from the internet to practice, whether or not he was ready for the inevitable. He was, after all, a rather resourceful man. He could handle the nerves and make it work. He thought idly that Greg could do the same. It was a feature of both their occupations. Remarkable man that the DI was, he was sure to understand. Sometimes, things needed to be rushed.

He opened the laptop again and returned to his browsing with keen interest, pushing away the fluster (and a small giggle). It was only a matter of time before he and Greg got around to the more…rigorous aspects of their relationship. Best to go in knowing what he was up against. Another giggle. Chance, indeed, favors the prepared mind.

Several hours later, he sat back with a sigh, mind ablaze with sensual information, and truth be told, a good deal of longing. Longing for the delicious form of one silver-foxed Detective Inspector. The last website he'd visited had opened a new door in his subconscious. One marked of hidden desires and secret fantasies he hadn't known he was capable of contemplating. But then, that thing he saw with the neck tie was extremely stimulating. And Mycroft owned an obscenely exciting number of neck ties. Oh, Greg. The things you make me want. He filed that away for future reference. It wouldn't do to get ahead of one's self. Then again, wasn't he already jumping in head long into the deep end of the pool? It certainly seemed that way.

The buzzing of his mobile broke his reverie and drew his attention.

THINKING OF YOU. MISS YOU. - GL

Mycroft couldn't contain his smile and his heart began to pound as he typed back.

I MISS YOU, TOO. - MH

WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN. WHEN ARE YOU COMING HOME? - GL

SOON. WORK ALMOST DONE. - MH

DELEGATE. COME HOME. - GL

NOT THAT SIMPLE. - MH

YES, IT IS. NEED TO SEE YOU. NEED TO KISS YOU. - GL

ARE YOU FLIRTING WITH MY BY TEXT? - MH

NOT NEARLY AS INNOCENT AS FLIRTING. WANT YOU. - GL

WHAT HAPPENED TO SLOW? - MH

THAT WAS BEFORE YOU LEFT FOR A DAMN WEEK. HOW'S EASTERN EUROPE? - GL

OLD. HOW DID YOU KNOW THAT? - MH

ANTHEA WAS HELPFUL. NOT TOO HELPFUL, THOUGH. SHE'S A PEACH. - GL

THAT SHE IS. AGAIN, SLOW? - MH

FUCK SLOW. I WANT TO FUCK YOU. SLOWLY. - GL

GREG… - MH

MYCROFT… - GL

YOUR OFFER IS MOST INTRIGUING. - MH

WAIT UNTIL YOU GET HOME. I FEAR YOU'LL GET MORE THAN YOU BARGAINED FOR. - GL

WHAT ARE YOU DOING? - MH

I BELIEVE THE KIDS CALLTHIS 'SEXTING'. IT'S ALL I'VE GOT LEFT. RUBBED MYSELF RAW THINKING ABOUT YOU AND YOUR DAMNED SUITS. - GL

YOU SHOULD BE CAREFUL. ANY INJURY WILL SET OUR TIME TABLE BACK EVEN FURTHER. AND THAT WOULD BE A SHAME. - MH

LISTEN TO ME, MYCROFT HOLMES. I WANT YOU HOME IN MY BED. IN YOUR BED. OVER MY DESK. OVER A TABLE. ON THE FUCKING FLOOR. - GL

IN FRONT OF CHRIST AND THE ENTIRE BRITISH EMPIRE. I WILL HAVE YOU. I WANT TO YOUR LIPS ON MINE. I WANT TO FEEL YOU UNDER MY SKIN AND MAKE YOU SCREAM MY NAME. - GL

I WANT TO GO ABOUT MY DAY AND BE ABLE TO STILL TASTE YOU IN THE BACK OF MY THROAT. FUCKING COME HOME. NOW - GL

LET ME SEE WHAT I CAN ARRANGE. - MH

Mycroft swallowed hard and cast a glance down the sudden and raging erection and dialed Anthea. He was a bit out of breath as he spoke.

"Anthea."

"Sir?"

"I…I'm afraid I need to go home. Send my regards to the Ministry. They can finish up here."

"I see." He swore he could hear the smile in her voice. "Shall I arrange it for you?"

"God, yes." He could hear typing in the background.

"Very good, sir. The car will pick you up in an hour. I'll forward your key to DI Lestrade, shall I?"

"Please." The pounding in his chest became worse and it was becoming more difficult to breathe. More typing on the other end.

"It's been taken care of, sir. The key and instructions are on their way. Shall I clear your schedule for the next forty-eight?" Her tone was clipped and efficient, but yes, there was definitely a smile there. She really was a peach, wasn't she?

"Yes. Do that."

"It's all done, sir. Safe travels." The line went dead.

With trembling fingers, he began to type again.

I ACCEPT YOUR TERMS. SHOULD BE HOME IN ABOUT FOUR HOURS. IF THIS BRINGS ABOUT ANOTHER COLD WAR, I HOLD YOU PERSONALLY RESPONSIBLE. - MH

COMMUNISM BE DAMNED. ANTHEA TEXTED ME. I'LL BE WAITING FOR YOU. - GL

Something clenched in his chest and made its way lower on his body, heating in small increments as it moved. Four hours. He flew off the bed in a rush, not bothering to call for a valet to pack his things. Four hours. Damn, but it felt like a lifetime. I'm coming home, Greg. I'm coming home to you.