They arrived back at school just after seven. Greg watched as the large black car pull away and he sighed. He had just spent the past two hours on the back seat with Sherlock, who had curled up and gone to sleep as soon as the engine started. And Mycroft, who had been doing a really good job of ignoring him, mostly, Greg suspected due to his Uncle's parting shot of "Behave yourself." John Watson had ridden in the front passenger seat. He had a thing about cars and had been interrogating Clive, the driver, for the whole time.

For the whole journey Greg had been pressed up against Mycroft's leg, drinking in the warm musky scent of him and desperate to rip his clothes of and have him on the back seat.

Greg picked up his sports bag. It was like being set free and then having to go back to prison. He felt a warm presence behind him and something pushing against the small of his back. Mycroft bent down and whispered in his ear.

"It isn't forever."

"It just seems like it." Greg turned around to face Mycroft.

"I will understand if you want to distance yourself from me."

"What?"

"Well it's one thing spending the weekend at your room-mates home. It is entirely another to announce to people you have known for years that you are now...well whatever you call this."

"I think what we did at the weekend was called shagging like rabbits."

"Yes. Quite. But..." Mycroft took a step back. "Are we going out now?"

"Erm..." Greg was confused. And Uncle Aloysius's words resonated around his head that he just needed to wait and Mycroft would come round.

"Because...well...if we were that would be fine. But I understand that you don't want all your friends knowing about it. About me. Because..."

"You know what? Yes we are going out. You are my boyfriend. My lover. Whatever you want to call it. And I hope it lasts. And I'm going to work so hard to get the grades to get in to Cambridge. Because one day I might want to spend the rest of my life with you. And I think it's about time everyone here knew who I really am."

"Okay." Mycroft, for once had nothing to say in response.

"So Let's go have dinner. Because I know you want dinner. And then we can go back to our room and do something about that massive erection of yours." Greg smiled and looked downwards.

"Actually... I think I want to do something about that first. Dinner can wait."

"Really?" It was obviously a night for revelations.

"Yes. Really."

...

It was unfortunate that Paul could not possibly have picked a worse moment to barge into the room. Really. Greg supposed if he had been paying attention the look on Paul's face would have be hilarious. As it was Paul walked in just at the exact moment Greg's straining erection had erupted as Mycroft had thrust into him and a split second later had started coming himself.

Paul stood like an animal caught in the headlights. Eyes wide. Uncertain of what to do.

"What are you doing?" Finally. The silence was broken by a stupid question. Greg clamped his hand firmly over Mycroft's mouth. This didn't need to be any worse than it already was. Greg had been ready to come out. Just not quite like this.

"Yeah. Right." Greg was rallying his thoughts. He only had one shot at this.

"Did he force you to do this? Is he raping you?" Sometimes Greg wondered how Paul's brain generated enough power to keep him breathing.

"No. Paul. I'm gay."

"What about him?" Paul pointed a finger at Mycroft.

"Yeah he's gay too."

"I mean, what are you doing with him? You could have anybody."

"Really? This is the conversation you want to have? I like Mycroft. End of story. I'm still Greg. I can still play rugby. I'm still your mate. I'm not suddenly going to try and kiss you or anything."

"Why not? What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing." This was not going remotely how Greg had imagined.

"Excuse me?" Mycroft mumbled from behind Greg's hand. "I'm right here. I can hear you talking about me."

"All this time. You've been gay. And you've been...with him. Why have you never tried to hit on me? What's he got I haven't."

"I'm going for a shower." Mycroft levered Greg off of him with a wet noise as his cock sprang free. It seemed the interruption hadn't quite killed his ardour. Paul looked Mycroft up and down. Mostly down his mouth wide open.

"Bloody hell!" Was his only comment.

"Answer your question?" Greg watched Mycroft wrap a dressing gown around himself and slink out of the room. "Anyway. Why did you barge in here in the first place?"

"Oh. Yeah." Paul seemed grateful of the subject change. "Two guys turned up yesterday. We think they were plain clothes police or something. Asked everyone a load of questions. And then well. James Moriarty? He's been expelled. And they took him away."

Greg couldn't help but smile. Aloysius Holmes had said he would sort it all out. And Greg was more convinced than ever that the big man didn't just occupy a minor position in government.