Disclaimer: Not mine but I really wish they were.

A/N: Once again, I am apologizing for the wait but I've been really busy. Like I've said before things most likely won't even out until the middle to end of July. But I'm here now and here's a new chapter for you. Hope you like. Let me know?

Monday

Greg woke with the sun in his face again and an empty bed. The one he'd been expecting but the other was a surprise. They both made him curse roundly. "Forgot to shut the fecking curtains, idiot." He berated himself and struggled up from the bed to fix the issue.

Sighing in relief at the blessed dimness he checked the time and shrugged. It read six-thirty in glowing green numbers. After tossing and turning most of the night he had expected to oversleep. Fortunately the sun had decided he'd slept enough.

Greg frowned slightly at the empty unmade bed and then ignored it for the bathroom and a shower.

It was just as he was stepping out later that he heard a faint ringing from the bedroom. Greg scrambled out of the slippery shower bashing his knee against the wall. Whipping a towel off the rack, he cursed as it smacked him in the face. He raced to the bedroom and scooped up the mobile phone from his bedside table as he skidded into it and fell on the bed.

"Ouch! Fuck." He flipped open his phone and glared at the screen that didn't hold the name he'd been hoping for. "What Donovan?" He growled as he put the phone to his ear.

"Well, good morning to you too, sir," Donovan huffed back. "Did I wake you?"

Greg sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. "No. I was just getting out of the shower. What do you want?"

Sgt. Sally Donovan snorted. "Sure you were, sir." Her tone was disbelieving. "I was asked to call and make sure you'd be coming in today."

Greg pulled the phone from his ear and stared at it in confusion. He put the phone back to his ear and stood from the bed to pull on some clothes. "Why wouldn't I be in today, Donovan?"

Donovan huffed at him down the phone line. "Men," she said the word as though it were a curse. "Your anniversary. I'm quite sure the Freak's brother is as selfish as he is and he'd rather you played hooky today like every other year."

Greg's heart clenched in his chest. He cleared his throat. "No," he gruffed out. "Mycroft's in Vienna. Left yesterday. I'll be in. And don't call Sherlock a freak."

There was silence on the other end for a moment. "What?" Sally fairly screeched at him after the moment had passed. "What do you mean Vienna! And he left on your anniversary? I was wrong your husband is more of a freak than his brother."

"Donovan!" Greg barked out. His heart wasn't really in it though. He wanted to curse her for her insensitivity but that was just how she was.

"Sorry sir," she said though he could tell she didn't mean it. "I'll see you in a while then."

"Yeah," Greg said and hung up without saying good-bye. He sat down on the bed and then flopped back and glared at the ceiling. He really should have told Sally to keep this from Sherlock but they probably wouldn't see each other anyway. Not unless there was a nice, juicy murder.

He sent off a quick text to his husband and then pulled his shoes on and strode out the door. This was not going to be a good day.

MH/GL MH/GL MH/GL

Three hours later his theory was proved correct. Greg stood over the dead body of a naked woman with no idea how she'd come to be there, what she had died of or who she was. "Dammit!" He cursed.

Sgt. Donovan scowled and Anderson stalked up to him. "Don't even think it, Lestrade," he spat out. "Give me a few more minutes and I'll have it figured out. It has to be poison or something along those lines."

Greg glared at the forensics specialist. "No injection site, Anderson. And she doesn't have any of the markers of poison. She looks perfectly fine except for being dead. She isn't even pale. There's no bluish tinge to her skin or anything."

Anderson swallowed. "I'm sure it's poison. We don't need that psychopath or his sycophant!"

Greg raised an eyebrow at him. "If you're positive it was poison then you won't mind if I call Sherlock and John and have them confirm." Greg fished his phone out of his pocket and flipped it open pointedly.

Anderson glared at the innocent piece of technology. "Just give me twenty-four hours, Lestrade." He bargained.

Greg glared at him and then down at the phone in his hand. Mycroft was in Vienna on their anniversary. Didn't even call. Sherlock would be insufferable with that information. And even if Greg never opened his mouth about it he wasn't stupid enough to believe that he could fool a Holmes. He snapped the phone shut and nodded at Anderson curtly. It was one woman. This wasn't a serial killing and it wasn't a spree. "Get me everything you have by five, Anderson," he barked at the lank haired forensics man and stalked off to go roust the witnesses and interview them.

GL/MH GL/MH GL/MH

At four o'clock in the afternoon Greg finally headed back into his office and stopped short. "What are the two of you doing here?" He asked even as he walked around the younger Holmes and John to sit down behind his desk.

"We're here to take you and Mycroft out for your anniversary," John announced with a bright smile.

Sherlock rolled his eyes but nodded all the same before his gray eyes narrowed and he frowned. "Where is my brother, Lestrade?" He spat angrily.

Greg only lifted an eyebrow at him. "Can't you deduce that information, Sherlock?" He asked quietly.

Sherlock scoffed and John looked between the other two men in confusion. "What's going on?" He asked. "What do you mean where's Mycroft, Sherlock? Isn't he at his office? I mean yeah, it's different that they're both at work on the day after their anniversary but they have been married for five years. Other people make it to work after an all-day sex fest why shouldn't Greg and Mycroft?"

Sherlock turned his attention to his own husband. "All-day sex fest, John? Seriously?"

John flushed a bit and then shrugged. "Well, what would you call it?"

Sherlock suddenly grinned. "Worshipping my possession until we both pass out from exhaustion."

John flushed even deeper while Greg chuckled. "You would," Greg sighed. "He's in Vienna and then the U.S. until Friday."

"When did he leave?" John asked in shock. Mycroft had never left Greg without telling John and Sherlock he was going to be out of the country.

Sherlock snorted. "By the looks of Lestrade…yesterday morning. He forgot your anniversary, didn't he?" Greg stayed silent. "Thought so. Idiot." He waved a hand at Greg as the older man's gaze narrowed and sharpened. "Not you, though you are." Sherlock stood up. "Come along, Lestrade. We'll take you out to…what do normal people call it? Drown your sorrows?"

"What if I don't want to?" Greg asked petulantly even as he stood too.

John shook his head. "He's a Holmes in a strop. Do you really think you can stop him from taking you out?" Greg looked from one man to the other and shook his head. "See, Sherlock?" John grinned. "He can be taught."

The trio left the office and the building intent on getting Greg as drunk as possible.