Disclaimer: So we're off to Sea World now. And the San Diego Zoo. Yay! Will Eros be there? Doubt it but still it's time with my kids and fun in the sun. After this we're spending a few days on the beach. Still no Lestrade for me though. And I'm still poor. Even poor people can have fun in the summer, especially when they have their parents credit card.
A/N: I'd apologize for taking so long to update but I did warn you all. My summers are busier than my winters. We have camps and graduations and trips and all sorts of stuff during the summer and so updating is hard, writing is hard…Hell, finding time to breathe is difficult. Anyway, here's the next chapter of When the Spark Dulls. There is a time skip here. I did Mycroft's POV last on Wednesday in the story. This chapter is back to Greg on Sunday. The story will stay with Greg for a few chapters until going back to Mycroft on Thursday. Have fun and let me know what you think.
Sunday
Greg's eyes blinked open. Automatically his arm reached out to the cold bed beside him and he frowned. Oh, right, Mycroft was headed to Vienna for whatever reason. Greg sighed. Looked like he'd be spending their anniversary the same way he spent most of his days, alone.
He shook his head angrily. There was no sense in feeling sorry for himself. Mycroft had an important job and it wasn't like Greg didn't get busy himself sometimes. Not for over two months, some inner part of him argued.
Well that was true, but catching murderers wasn't nearly as time consuming as stopping or starting wars now was it?
Stop making excuses for him, the inner part of him said. Surprisingly or not actually it sounded like Sherlock. He needs to stop putting everything else before your relationship.
Ignoring the voice he picked his mobile up from the table next to his side of the bed and texted his husband. Well, at least Mycroft would know Greg was thinking of him today.
Shaking his head at his own pathetic attitude he tossed the blankets to the floor and got out of bed. "So what to do with a day off all by myself?" He asked aloud in an effort to banish the silence of the flat. "Haven't done laundry in over a week. Should probably do that." Making no effort to head for the pile in the bathroom of dirty laundry that didn't go to the cleaners he turned on the shower.
As the hot water beat down on him a few minutes later he groaned in despair. He had taken showers alone for over forty years and now it seemed that being alone was almost more than he could bear. "Dammit!" He punched the wall. "Damn you, Mycroft!"
He viciously scrubbed his hair clean and slammed out of the shower. The silence dissipated his anger again and he slumped over to the wardrobe for a pair of sweatpants. Donning them he glared half-heartedly at the laundry and stalked into the living room throwing himself onto the sofa and thumbing the remote to turn on the telly. There wouldn't be anything good on but at least the noise would distract him.
He flipped through the various news channels with no interest at all. He dealt with the news making events enough in his job that he had no curiosity in seeing them on the telly. While the children's programs would be entertaining Greg didn't really want to be entertained either. He wanted to be grouchy and out of sorts. It was his anniversary and he was alone because his husband had urgent business in Vienna.
He finally settled on some reality program that he couldn't recall the name of. There was no footie on so he was stuck on what else to watch. He paid the program little attention as his misery and depression weighted him down. Depression and boredom eventually got the better of him and he dozed fitfully on the sofa.
He knew it was a crap way to spend his one day off but he had no energy to change anything and even if he did he had nothing to do. He could have called John but then Sherlock would find out that Mycroft had apparently forgotten their anniversary and he would either be gloating or concerned in his own way. Neither was a prospect that intrigued Greg in the slightest.
The day would have been a lot different if Mycroft had stayed. There would still probably be a lot of napping but there would have been far more activity between naps. Greg missed him like he would miss his heart if it were suddenly gone. He supposed that after three months of abandonment he should be used to the feeling but he wasn't.
He was woken from a light sleep by the pounding on the door. Greg blinked his eyes open and glanced at the clock. 6:15 pm. Wonderful. He'd wasted the day completely. He really was a pathetic sod. The banging came again and Greg levered himself to his feet to answer it.
He opened the door to a delivery boy who handed him a bag of take away Thai food and a note. Greg tried to tip him but the boy walked away before Greg could do more than thank him.
Greg felt a smile creep across his face for the first time all day. Maybe Mycroft hadn't forgotten after all. Thai food was Greg's favorite and Mycroft was well aware of that fact. He set the bag of food down on the table by the sofa and ripped open the letter. The smile fell from his face.
Compliments and apologies. I have cleared the boss's schedule for the weekend he comes home. There will be no interruptions whatsoever, barring a nuclear emergency. I will make the boss aware of his grievous mistake before we return. He does love you very much.
-A
P.S. Happy anniversary from me, Greg. I'm sure he'll make it up to you.
Greg crumpled the note up and threw it at the wall. "Dammit Mycroft!" He cursed loudly. Even Mycroft's assistant was paying him more attention than his husband. He flopped down on the sofa again and glared at the offending bag of Thai food. He really hated his life right then. This had to be the worst anniversary in the history of the world.
A few minutes later his stomach reminded him that he hadn't eaten anything all day and that Thai food was, after all, his favorite. Grumbling he fished his phone out and sent off a quick text to his husband before opening the bag and taking the various boxes out. He ate the food quickly, barely tasting all of his favorites before glaring once more at the telly, the clock and the walls.
Finally at nearly eight, obnoxiously early, he couldn't take the silence in the house anymore and stomped his way to the bedroom and threw himself on the bed. He may as well sleep. The day was wasted anyway and he didn't feel like doing anything but feeling sorry for himself.
He wrapped himself in the blankets on Mycroft's side of the bed and determinedly closed his eyes. He knew that sleep would be elusive but he also knew that he was a stubborn bastard and he'd force his depression to lift by the morning. Damn Mycroft Bloody Holmes anyway.