Greg thought that all things considered, his life was going marvelously this last few months. He thought about selling his lousy flat, but in the end ended up renting it at a very small price to his niece Joanne, who unexpectedly came to London with her boyfriend to study at the LSE.
He grabbed this opportunity to renew his contact with his brother and his family, and it turned out Sam was as grumpy as always, but also very happy to hear from him after all this time. Greg even called his mother, after procuring her number from Sam, to congratulate her to her birthday; and although things would probably never be as they used to, he was feeling much more content now he knew that his family didn´t forget him completely and still, up to some extent, cared about him.
The thing that brought him most happiness, though, was watching Mycroft slowly learning how to believe in himself once more. He supposed others didn´t see much change on the diplomat, with the obvious exception of Sherlock, John and probably Anthea (he would call her like that to the end of his days, and she didn´t seem to mind).
He loved the flashes of pure smile he would sometimes cause. He loved how unashamedly happy Mycroft was every time they were in bed together. He adored how Mycroft sometimes clumsily tried to take care of him, oftentimes ending blushing and unable to speak, until Greg kissed the shame and feeling of unsufficiency away.
In the first few weeks together in the house, Greg took the liberty of changing a few things. For one, Mycroft didn´t seem to understand why there should be plants inside the house, when there was a perfectly good and butterfly attracting garden just outside. But he accepted when an aspidistra found its way into the living room, and on one occasion which made Greg smile even now, he found the goverment official in his three piece suit sniffing each of the new herbs in the kitchen.
Not all was without a problem, of course. Several times, Greg encountered a very upset Mycroft and pestered him with questions so much that he was carefully but firmly asked to stop and give Mycroft a bit of a privacy. Usually Mycroft would come out of his office half an hour later, in a very matter-of-fact way explaining why he felt as he did and Greg eventually came to the conclusion that Mycroft used the time alone to sort through his emotions, which he was unable to do in anyone´s presence.
Sometimes, on the other hand, it was Greg who came home utterly drained. He would be met with a hot beverage and a careful but genuine question: "What do you want me to do?" And he was confident that whatever he would ask at such a moment, Mycroft would get for him. The diplomat just didn´t believe his empathy that much to guess.
The elder Holmes was minutely more social as well. Even though he was still very introverted, Greg often came home to be met with a sight of his partner having tea with Anthea, or John, and on two memorable occasions, with Sherlock. As far as Greg knew, they were always one-on-ones and didn´t last longer than two and a half hours, but he was incredibly proud. See, you idiot, he would silently think, you need people just as much as they need you.
Mycroft could see how content Greg was in this relationship and still couldn´t believe his luck. He, Mycroft Holmes, a self-proclaimed misanthrope, has a partner. Someone who cares for him. Someone to care for, while knowing your offer to help wouldn´t be rejected.
He often wondered if Gregory just saw right through him. But then there were moments when it was apparent it was not the case, Greg wasn´t any kind of a mind-reader, because sometimes his partner would think some of his questions had a hidden meaning, a secret agenda, when in fact he asked out of sheer curiosity. But these moments were sparce and far between and Mycroft did not mind.
What he did mind, though, was that often he wasn´t sure what to do. Greg would come home completely exhausted, seemingly in need to share the horrible things that caused this - and Mycroft didn´t know how to start him talking. He knew Gregory needed to be listened to by someone once in a while. Mycroft silently thought that this was Greg´s ex-wife´s greatest crime - not cheating on her husband, not being able to give him the children he craved so much - but her unwillingness to listen.
But Mycroft would listen. And in turn, Greg would listen to what he had to say on the matter. Weirdly enough, unlike many people, Gregory looked like he found solace in Mycroft´s logical approach to the problem. Of course Mycroft did not think that once you reasoned the trouble out, it was gone. But it helped.
Mycroft soon found himself in need of anything Greg in his life. At first, when he was away from the country and working, he was scared of how dependant he has became, how homesick he felt. He craved being around the silver-haired man, smelling him on his sheets, seeing what kind of new potted plant he brought with himself. Mycroft particulary liked the peppermint.
But then he figured there were more pros than cons to his new domesticality. Because Greg would fill places in Mycroft the elder Holmes didn´t previously known they existed. Because the policeman dulled the ache that was eating Mycroft from inside. Because sometime between the first and the second week of their shared household, the scathing inner voice that sounded like his father was smothered forever.
He no longer had bad dreams. His realtionship with Sherlock was getting better every day. Everyone he cared for was happy. Which made Mycroft happy as well.