Greg's face had been crimson as he had taken his seat at the table. Mycroft seemed unaffected, and had simply sat down and enthusiastically began working his way through pudding as though he hadn't just screwed Greg senseless in the downstairs lavatory. Uncle Ali smiled indulgently at his eldest nephew and then at Greg. Somehow that made it worse.

"Mycroft tells me you play rugby Greg?" Teddy reached for the cream and then offered the jug to Greg.

"Yes. I do. I'm School Captain." He poured cream over his chocolate sponge.

"Excellent. You must be very talented. What position?" For a split second Greg was not entirely sure they were talking about sport.

"Erm, Wing mostly. Although sometimes at full back. Did you play?" Greg remembered the pictures of the athletic young man he had seen earlier.

"Yes. I was a scrum half. Ali wasn't all that interested in Sports, were you my darling?"

"I'm not built for running."

"Of course, before he left for school, we couldn't get Little Mikey here out of the gym." Mycroft scowled at his pudding, clearly he didn't like his childhood nickname.

"Ha. I knew it!" Greg smirked. "I knew all that muscle must have come from somewhere!" Then Greg returned to being bright red as he realised what he'd just said.

"It was only so Little Mikey could do his trousers up!" Sherlock added helpfully, fidgeting in his seat.

"Do shut up Sherly-Curly." Mycroft put his spoon down. Sherlock gave his brother a poisonous look.

"Sherlock, you and John may get down now." Uncle Ali said it quietly but firmly. The meaning clear. Discussion over. Mycroft gave a quick and heartfelt look of gratitude to his Uncle.

"Come on John. Let's go and see if the hedgehogs are back!" And without waiting, Sherlock was gone. John shovelled the last two spoons of his ice cream into his mouth, shuddering a little with brain freeze before following.

"Well that should keep them busy for a while." Uncle Ali said it with more than a little amusement. "Now boys, as delighted as I am that you are getting on so nicely with each other, would it be possible to confine your activity to the bedroom. Hand-jobs at the dinner table are hardly appropriate with two small children around."

Greg wanted to die there and then.

"Sorry Sir." He mumbled not daring to look at Mycroft. Mycroft obviously didn't dare look at him either.

"And if you are going to have sex in the cloakroom, at least do it quietly, poor Mrs Hudson could hardly hear Midsomer Murders over the noise. Is there any chocolate pudding left?"

And Greg realised that was as near to a telling off as they were going to get. And in all honesty he would have probably found it easier if Aloysius Holmes had shouted. They continued in silence for a while.

"May we get down please?" Mycroft spoke quietly.

"You may. But keep the noise down, there's a good chap."

Mycroft rolled an eyebrow at Greg, asking him to follow and almost on tiptoe they left the dining room.

"You know." Aloysius smiled down the table at Teddy. "I find just looking at those two quite exhausting."

Mycroft quietly closed the door of his room behind them. Greg sighed and sat down on the bed to take his shoes off.

"Well that was embarrassing. Just as well your uncle's cool about stuff. So what do you want to do? Watch a film or...oh!" Greg looked over his shoulder to see Mycroft just removing his last sock. Mycroft smiled wickedly and drew himself up to his rather impressive full height, his hardening cock bobbing in front of him. "I thought your uncle said..."

"He said to make sure we were quiet. Do you think you can manage that Gregory?" Mycroft reclined on the bed and began to stroke himself lazily. Greg smiled and began to undress.

"I'll certainly give it a try."