Greg slipped into the plush red leather interior of the waiting car after Aloysius Holmes and a uniformed driver closed the door behind them. Greg suddenly became overwhelmed by the thought that there was no way out. He was trapped in this leathery prison by Mycroft's Uncle. No escape.

Uncle Aloysius leaned forwards as the car moved off and opened a small fridge that was built into the car's interior. He handed Greg a can of Apple Tango and poured himself a Scotch and Ginger. Greg looked at the can.

"It's not poisoned you know Gregory!"

"Erm. No. It's just that this is like my favourite drink. How did you know that?"

"Mycroft told me."

"How does he know that?"

"My Great-Nephew is very observant."

"Yeah. Why aren't Mycroft's parents here? I mean, no offence, but you're only his Uncle? His great Uncle, so you're what? His father's father's brother? "

"Very good. Unfortunately Mycroft and Sherlock's parents are dead. As is my dear brother Sebastian. I am the boys' guardian. I daresay I am not the most suitable person to bring up two young boys, but I am what there is I'm afraid."

"Cool." Greg opened his can and took a sip. "So, is Mycroft okay?"

"He's a little bruised and a little sore but I think he will recover. With time. And help."

"Yeah."

"My nephew always comes across as somewhat arrogant and unfeeling. And he suffers rather from being very well developed for his age, let's say. And whilst he may have the outward appearance of an adult and the physical urges of an adult, he is still a sixteen year old boy. Albeit a very intelligent one." Greg was squirming as he realised he was getting the If you hurt him there will be trouble talk. "Now Gregory, let me see. You are a scholarship boy? You have above average grades but not as exceptional as your IQ Tests would indicate. Your father makes a reasonable income as a Sergeant in the Metropolitan Police force, but not nearly enough to cover the extra expenses of your education at St Christopher's. Your mother works two jobs, one as a cleaner, and the other as a dinner lady in order to supplement the family income. Your father is worried about paying for you to go to University. And you are worried that if your parents find out you are gay they will disown you."

"What? I'm not gay."

"Mycroft does tell me everything you know?"

"Everything?"

"Everything."

"Oh." Greg had gone the same colour as the car seats.

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about my dear boy. It's not as if I haven't seen it all before. And done most of it myself. Ah here we are." The car had pulled up outside a rather crusty looking gentleman's club. The door opened and Greg stepped out of the car, rather relived to be out of the close proximity of Mycroft's Uncle. He was ushered inside the door of the club by a liveried doorman and then found himself being steered down a mahogany panelled hallway with Aloysius Holmes hand weighing heavily on his shoulder.

Greg had just settled himself into a large leather chair and watched as Mycroft's Uncle lowered himself into the seat opposite, which creaked a little with his bulk. Then the white haired man leaned forward, piercing Greg with a gaze so intense it was like being x-rayed.

"Now Gregory. Would you be good enough to give me the names of the boys who cut the word homo with a scalpel into my Nephew's chest?"

Greg spent the next hour explaining to Aloysius Holmes the exact nature of the bullying problem they had at St Christopher's. A small gang of boys, led by James Moriarty, who took delight in picking on the weak. A small gang who it seemed were also available for hire, at the right price.

And then they discussed at length Greg's own little problem. It was embarrassing at first, but gradually Greg realised that Aloysius Holmes wasn't going to tell his parents, or his teachers. And then everything came spilling out like a dam had burst. The confusion of feelings Greg just did not understand. Why everything felt brilliant but at the same time felt wrong. How Mycroft knew just by looking at him what he was like. Did that mean everyone else could tell as well? All of the worries Greg had saved up at the back of his head spewed out until he felt drunk. It was like the worst confessional ever.

Uncle Aloysius nodded sagely and gave Greg a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

"The way I see it Gregory, is that you seem to be blaming yourself when you haven't actually done anything wrong. You are expecting punishment just for being yourself."

"I just don't want..." He paused.

"Don't want what? All of your friends to desert you? This is of course the point I'm supposed to say that if they were true friends they wouldn't care. I think we both know that's rubbish so I'm not going to waste my breath. At your age your friends are all you have. Or perhaps you don't want to upset your parents? I'm afraid that is inevitable as well. Regardless of how liberal your parents may be on the matter. Parents always have an ideal of what their children will be. And they are so very often disappointed."

"Yeah." Greg thought about the reaction he would get from his dad. His dad who told anyone who would listen that his son was Captain of Rugby at school and was going to follow him into the force and all the rest of it.

"Your father's reaction may surprise you Gregory. After all you don't spend some many years as a policeman without gaining some understanding of human nature."

"Yeah. I don't know. How do you know so much about my family anyway? What did you say you did?"

"I didn't. Let's just say I occupy a minor post within the government."

"Okay."

"Now I really should be getting you back to school. I wouldn't want you to be missed."

The car was waiting outside to take Greg back to St. Christopher's. Aloysius Holmes waved him off from the doorway of the club, and Greg sank back into the leather seats. They still smelled faintly of the big man's cologne.