If Mycroft were indeed as obtuse as to install hidden cameras inside of the homes of the few people he considered important - Sherlock, John, Greg and Anthea - it might have caught about six hours video of two forty-something men (still fortysomething in Greg´s case) hugging in their sleep on a cheap cauch.

It would have been the most beautiful movie he has ever seen, the type you would watch when everythingseemed worthless and you needed a night of eating ice-cream, watching sentimentalities and doing nothing.

But Mycroft was specifically denied eating anything sweet after five o´clock, as he was still on diet, technically. And doing nothing wasn´t Mycroft´s style of dealing with problems. He was always afraid it would simply give him more time to ponder over all those what-ifs and could´ve-beens if he remained unoccupied.

And although Mycroft wasn´t usually prone to emotions, he wasn´t sure he could manage that.

Regardless of all these facts, he could only imagine at which part of the night did his and Greg´s legs become intangled like this and whether Greg´s hand on his chest could indeed feel the change of his heart´s pace as he woke up, even if the policeman was still in deep slumber.

What´s the time? Mycroft wondered. It was certainly the middle of the night, or more like a very early morning. What was the quote? Oh, yes: Think in the morning. Act in the noon. Eat in the evening. Sleep at night. Mr. Blake probably wasn´t aquainted with his dietitian.

As for his mind, it definitely decided it was morning already, because all those little cogs and wheels in his brain started to awaken. And started to sort all those animalistic experiences from yesterday. Not that they weren´t enjoyable.

Sharing. That was what Greg said. He only hoped that yesterday´s evening felt as good to Greg as to himself.

But now, there was time to make order in all this.

One, Greg loved him. Mycroft loved Greg. He only hoped he sorted that emotion right.

But it should be that, shouldn´t it? The feeling safe. The want for more. The silent awe of all those character trades Mycroft lacked and Greg shared so freely. The desperate screaming to PROTECT in his mind.

Two, he has done everything he could have objectively done to warn Greg off. He has told Greg everything he knew of himself, everything he considered himself. Greg accepted it, accepted him.

Three, Greg not only listened to his life, he wanted to tell him about his one. He wanted to share. That felt like unacceptable prying. Mycroft already knew far too much about the DI from his files and had access to many private information. But on the other hand, it felt like it meant Greg wanted a relationship - a long-term one, and he wanted to base it on mutual trust.

He will have to talk about it with the policeman. That might help to make some order out of this mess of emotions, which was a too tangled web to be inspected by objective analysis properly.

But that is it, isn´t it? You already trust him enough to uncover this to him. Your inability to deal with emotions.

Well, Mycroft replied to that unpleasant voice in his head, I think he might have already figured I am lacking in that regard.

Do you think he would love a man-child?

I know he does.

It was true. But irrational. Although... where words might be bent and lies might be told, Greg couldn´t have faked that look of enjoyment when Mycoft let his childish desire to eat Greg whole reign. Well, there is at least some use for that small part of him, then.

"How long are you up?" Greg asked some hour and a half later.

"A short while."

"Liar. I can see you are at your full thinking mode. Not even Holmes is that alert half an hour after he woke up."

"I didn´t want to get up."

"Didn´t or couldn´t?"

"I admit my ass being glued to your sofa with our dried semen might have played a role in it."

"Oh damn."

"I will have it dry cleaned, if you wish. Or you could buy a new one."

"We."

"What?"

"We could buy a new one. If you didn´t change your mind about thinking of loving me from yesterday."

"I didn´t. Is your shower big enough for two?"

"We can squeeze in."

"Good."

"That was... unexpected."

"Surprised?"

"A little." Greg loved it. Loved the way Mycroft face went from blank to thoughtful to wicked and than he just leaped at Greg.

"Did I hurt you?" Mycroft asked worriedly as he remembered the loud thud as Greg´s body banged into the glass.

"I´m not that fragile, My."

"Were you ever really scared of me?" asked the diplomat suddenly.

"What do you think?"

"Well, I blackmailed you to give Sherlock access to cases. The point rather was for you to be scared."

Greg laughed, but there was sadness too. "I was scared a bit. But more of what you could turn into if Sherlock relapsed, than of what you were then. And I helped him also because of my own experiences."

"Your brother?"

"Yeah. One foolishness - and it´s done. And Sherlock back then - he did a lot of foolish things."

They were sitting now in Lestrade´s kitchen, Lestrade in jeans and a T-shirt, Mycroft in yesterday´s trousers and shirt, drinking tea and having some biscuits, just as pale pink light started to shed its Shadows onto London.

"Beautiful, isn´t it?" Greg mused and yawned. "It´s good you woke me up at three thirty after all. It´s weird they didn´t call me to work, though. There must be horrible amount of paperwork to do about the bomb at Milverton´s."

"Others are as capable as you in filling forms."

"I am not going to comment on this, OK?" Greg grinned.

"They will probably want you in the office in a few hours." Mycroft informed him softly, hating to disappoint the cop.

"Well, I guess crime never sleeps."

"There isn´t anything too time consuming."

"You checked already?"

"What did you think I were doing with the phone?"

"Playing angry birds? Or minesweeping?"

"Very droll, Gregory. Your morning wit is well-known."

Greg smiled happily. He looked like a thought lingered behind his eyes, but he hesitated to say it.

"What is on your mind?"

"Are you always this... human... after a shag?"

"As opposed to me being an android under normal circumstances?"

"I didn´t mean it like this."

"Yes, you did. It´s all right. And the answer is no. It depends on the nature of the... act... and the participant."

"Does it mean I were good yesterday?"

"Don´t be crass, Greg. It is unbecoming to ask such questions."

"I enjoyed it. Did you?"

Greg guessed that what happened afterwards was to be his answer. Because Mycroft met his gaze, raised both his eyebrows sceptically as if to say: Do you really need to ask? and than jumped from his seat towards Greg for a very deepand very long kiss. Well, snog really, but Greg thought Mycroft wouldn´t approve of the choice of the word.

It was half past twelve, when Mycroft ascended the steep stairway in 221B. Greg was at work, agreeing to go only after Mycroft promised him that he would await him at his house after work for dinner, and Mycroft had a thing to do.

He chose this moment because he saw John Watson leave the flat approximately ten minutes ago to get some food. As much as he admired the ex-soldier, it was really not very bright to check if there is something edible after you realise that there is time for lunch and you are, indeed, hungry. But it suited his purpose.

"What do you need?" said Sherlock instead of a greeting.

"Talk. Do you have tea or have you run out of it too?" asked Mycroft and not really awaiting an answer proceeded to kitchen.

"A long talk then."

"Lengthier than usual, yes. Do you want a cup?"

Some minutes ago the brothers sat into their respective armchairs facing each other.

"Are you gonna tell me the secret of why you´re here, brother?"

"Firstly, I came to apologise."

"The explosion wasn´t your fault. I should´ve realised the journalist was a dangerous aspect..."

"Not only for that."

"Oh? For what, then?"

"For... everything. Everything that happened between us. I know I never could be enough for you, and never were. But I regret..."

"Stop."

"Sherlock, please..."

"It´s my turn to apologise."

"For what?"

"For everything."

"Don´t be silly."

"I´m not. You´re forgiven."

Mycroft had to look away to hide the tears starting to form in his eyes. "Thank you," he whispered.

"Oh, for God´s sake don´t cry! When did you became such softie?!" was Sherlock´s outraged reaction. "What was the other thing?"

"A request."

"A case?" Sherlock´s eyes glowered.

"No. I will have a look, though, and send you something if the Yard doesn´t have something by the end of the week."

"What, then?"

"I want you to protect someone."

"So it is a case!"

"Let me finish! I want you to protect Lestrade."

"From whom?"

"Me."

"What the hell´re you talking about?"

"Oh surely you hadn´t missed the signs?"

"You mean the fact that you had sex last night? I prefer not to think about it."

"I was with Lestrade."

"Mycroft, if you dump him and he stops giving me cases..."

"I love him."

The look of pure disbelief was shorter than Mycroft would have thought.

"Good. Why do you want me to protect him, then? You have plenty of minions."

"I do not have a sterling history as far as relationships go. In fact, I always end up hurting those I care about. I want you to stop me, when ther is danger I would hurt Greg. I want you to help him, when it could not have been prevented. If I do something bad, I want you to help him leave me and help him get out of my reach."

"You´re crazy."

"Sherlock..."

"He´s an adult. If you do something so utrageous, he is able to leave you on his own."

"Our mother wasn´t able to leave him," Mycroft mumbled and Sherlock shut up and watched his face solemnly.

"I don´t pretend I understand," the elder Holmes continued, "whether it was sentiment, or the happy memories of him, or brainwashing her enough. But she stayed. And as I do not understand, I cannot guarantee I wouldn´t do the same and manipulate Greg to not being able to go."

"You´re not like him, Mycroft."

"How would you know?"

"I´m your brother."

Mycroft sighed. "Still."

"I promise I will protect Greg. He is my friend. As is John. And as are you. Got it?"

"No."

"Good. John says that as long as we don´t fully understand our feelings, they are true."