Disclaimer: Don't own them. Own a box of Wheat Thins but I'm selfish and I refuse to share. Ha! They're mine! Mine, I tell you!

A/N: To my guest reviewers: I thank you. Love the reviews as always. As I can't reply to you individually I'll just say (again) a collective thank you. On with the story.

Week Two: Tuesday

It had taken a bit of fast talking and empty promises for the doctors to agree to release Greg after only one more night under observation but John had managed it. He wasn't sure that this was the best idea they'd ever had but he went with it to make his husband and his best friend happy.

It shocked him, exactly what lengths he'd go to for his cobbled together family. Especially when paired alongside how far he went to stay away from what was left of his birth family and how far he'd gone his whole life to avoid them. Had Harry come up with this fool plan he would have been the first to shoot it down as ridiculous but as Greg had thought it up he just went along with it and helped with fooling the doctors.

As he signed his name to another form taking responsibility for Greg's care he thought of calling a stop to this game. Greg's broken, depressed expression last Monday flitted across his mind's eye followed quickly by the shattered, tearful one on Mycroft's face when he'd finally shown up at the hospital. No, they needed to learn how to reconnect and this was the best idea any of them had. John wouldn't let this family fall apart like the last one had.

"Here you are, Dr. Grant, all filled out and signed." John handed over the sheaf of forms to the older doctor.

Dr. Grant reluctantly took the papers and sighed. "I'm going to say, once again, that I believe this to be a very bad idea, Dr. Watson. Detective Inspector Lestrade still shows no sign of remembering his husband and we still haven't determined the cause. There is also the fact that he claims all of his food has no taste to it. Those two facts are worrying and could be symptoms of something more serious."

John regarded the other man evenly. "I am aware of the issues surrounding Greg's injury. He wants to go home. He hates hospitals, always has. He will be more relaxed at home and being surrounded by the evidence of his life with Mycroft he may regain his memory that much faster." John's brow furrowed in thought. "As to the lack of taste in his food…well, you have been feeding him bland hospital food. Hospital food never has any taste. If the lack of flavor continues we'll address that issue with his GP."

Dr. Grant frowned. "I was under the impression that you were his GP."

John snorted a bit. "I'm one of them," he explained. "I'm the one Greg prefers but his husband's position in the government means he has several."

Dr. Grant sighed and nodded. "Well, while I oppose this with every fiber of my being, I suppose there's nothing I can say to change your minds."

"Not a thing," John agreed cheerfully before turning around and heading back to Greg's room to prepare him for the trip home.

MH/GL MH/GL MH/GL

Greg groaned in pleasure as he sank into the large, comfortable sofa in his and Mycroft's parlour. He loved this sofa. It was long enough and wide enough to fit both he and Mycroft with a bit of wiggle room. It was so good to be home. Even though his home would soon be invaded by his brothers-in-law he found he didn't mind. This house had been silent for too long. Knowing his friends and coworkers this house would soon be full to bursting with people and noise. It would be nice later but for now he was content to bask in the quiet breaths of his husband.

"Gregory?" Mycroft concerned voice reached out to him through the pleasure of finally being able to relax. "Are you all right? Where does it hurt?"

Greg opened one eye and nearly startled at the face that was so close to his own. He blinked both eyes open and gave a soft smile. "I'm fine. I like your sofa," he admitted. "It's so soft."

Mycroft frowned and pulled away. "You picked it out." He forced himself to smile at the husband that didn't remember him. "Frankly, I'm usually afraid that it will eat me."

Greg grinned. "I can see why." He cleared his throat and looked around the room as much as he could without moving his head. "So," he paused, not exactly sure what to say. He'd never been uncomfortable around Mycroft before. Not even the first time Mycroft had kidnapped him. He grasped onto the idea. "How did we meet exactly?"

A pink color tinged Mycroft's cheekbones and his eyes wouldn't meet Greg's. "Wouldn't you rather know about our wedding?" He asked in a suspiciously bland voice.

Greg's mouth stretched into a huge grin. "Must be very embarrassing then," he chuckled and then hissed as his head pounded to the beat of his heart. "If it's going to make me laugh then never mind. The embarrassing stories can wait for tomorrow."

Mycroft forced himself not to hover over Greg and seated himself in one of the armchairs to the side of the sofa. "Would you like some of your pain medication?" He didn't think Greg would accept the offer. Greg hated taking any drugs, prescription or not. But maybe his pain was bad enough to warrant the use of the pain medication or he didn't remember his dislike for drugs.

Greg breathed evenly. "Nah, I'm good. Just don't make me laugh." Greg closed his eyes again. "Tell me a story about us," he half asked, half ordered.

Mycroft shifted in his seat and frowned. "Why?"

Greg turned his head towards him and opened one eye to give him a serious look. "Because it might help me remember you."

Caught in those earnest brown eyes Mycroft nodded and settled back. "I warn you I am not a very good story teller."

Greg closed his eye again and settled back into the cushions. "I'm sure I don't care. Tell me something nice. Something about us. Something that isn't about an argument or a fight or something sad."

Mycroft leaned forward in his chair intent on his husband's relaxed form. "Why would you think we fight? Have you remembered something?"

Greg let out a soft breath. "No," he denied. "I know exactly how stubborn I am. I also know what your brother is like. There is no way on Earth that our relationship is all sweetness and light, Mycroft. If you don't want to tell me then I'll just wait for Sherlock and John to get back and pick their brains." He tried very hard to keep the hurt from his voice and the sense of rejection from overwhelming him.

"No, no, it's fine," Mycroft swiftly objected. "I just wanted to be sure it was what you wanted, Gregory." Mycroft was silent for a moment as he racked his brain for a good story to tell his husband. It wasn't that he couldn't think of any, rather that he thought of far too many. "How about I tell you about the time I took you to Tokyo for dinner."

"Dinner? In Japan?" Greg's voice was amused. "You mean we flew from London to Japan, had dinner and flew back?"

"There was a bit more to it than that," Mycroft told him vaguely. "Hush now and let me tell the story."