Disclaimer: Still have no rights to the characters or any money for these stories. I have a plan though. Yep. I'm going to build a time machine and go back in time and whisper the idea for the Sherlock Holmes series in Doyle's ear. Then I will have him write a letter saying that the stories were all my idea and that 25% (I'm not greedy) of any money made from the name of Sherlock Holmes should be put in my bank account. Think it will work?

A/N: This story was supposed to be short and sweet. Then it grew and it's continued to grow. I'm very enthused by all of the wonderful responses I've received and I thank all of you. Hope you enjoy the rest of it as much as you have all enjoyed what I've written so far. Again thank you and on with the story.

Week Two: Wednesday

"You never finished the story, Mycroft," Greg said as John helped him settle back onto the sofa and handed him a plate of toast and eggs. "I didn't mean to fall asleep on you."

"What story?" Sherlock asked from his spot on the floor in front of the massive fireplace. "Is it embarrassing for Mycroft? I know lots of those."

Mycroft gave his brother a mild glare and waved off his husband's apologies with a quiet; "You were exhausted, Gregory. It was perfectly understandable."

Greg frowned at Sherlock who looked back at him with an utterly fake innocent expression. "Shut up, Sherlock," Greg mumbled. "I don't want any embarrassing stories about Mycroft. I want him to finish telling me about whisking me off to dinner in Tokyo."

"Isn't that one of the places you two went on your honeymoon?" John asked as he came back into the room from the kitchen.

Greg forced his eyes to widen in a look of surprise. He looked up from his plate of eggs and toast and stared at his husband. Mycroft had a small tinge of pink decorating his cheekbones. "Is it really?" He asked.

Mycroft cleared his throat and took a sip of his tea before answering. "Yes. We went to Tokyo after we were married along with Sydney, Bangkok, New York, Lisbon and Rio de Janeiro. It's one of the reasons I took you to Tokyo that day. You'd found an excellent little restaurant and fell in love with the food. I thought it would be an excellent surprise for you."

Greg grinned at the list of cities. "Well, was I surprised? Did I enjoy the date? C'mon, Myc," he whined. "Give up the goods."

"Yes, Myc, as Lestrade says, give up the goods," Sherlock teased his blushing brother with a thin smile.

Greg carefully set his fork on the plate and glared at Sherlock. He pointed one long finger at him. "You, no teasing your brother about what he tells or you can go home." He caught Sherlock's eyes with his own. "Got it?"

Sherlock scowled but when those brown eyes continued to hold him captive he finally huffed and threw himself onto his back on the rug. "Fine. But if I go John goes too."

"Not bloody likely," Greg chuckled. "He's a doctor and I'm injured. He'll stay here and you'll go home alone."

"John wouldn't make me go home all by myself," Sherlock declared petulantly. "He likes the sex too much." John spluttered his tea into his jumper. "Don't you?" Sherlock finished a bit uncertainly.

John dabbed at his sodden jumper for a moment before sighing and pulling it off. "I believe that's why they invented booty calls." He said mildly.

Sherlock's shocked expression had Mycroft's lips twitching and Greg clutching at his head at the sudden pain from laughing so hard. "All right," Greg gasped. "No teasing Mycroft until you can both leave safely," he compromised.

Sherlock sulked a bit more and then nodded. "Fine. Now finish the story, brother dear."

Greg closed his eyes and smirked. "Hey," he said suddenly. "Did we join the mile high club?"

Mycroft cleared his throat again. "Not on that trip, no." Then he caught sight of his brother's disgusted expression and decided that a preemptive strike against Sherlock's teasing was in order. "Though we did renew our membership."

John covered his grin with his hand, Sherlock groaned loudly and flopped back again and Gregory kept his eyes closed and just smiled. "So what did happen on that trip?"

"If you're going to talk about your sex life I'm going for a shower," Sherlock growled though he made no move to rise. "And I'm taking John with me."

Greg let out an amused sound. "You just want to shag John in Mycroft's shower and then tell him about it."

"What makes you think we haven't already?" Sherlock asked archly.

Mycroft made a distressed sound and Greg lifted his head to eye Sherlock. "I. Do. Not. Want. To. Know." He enunciated clearly. "Ever." He settled back and turned his head slightly towards Mycroft. "What happened in Tokyo?"

Mycroft shrugged. "Nothing really happened, Gregory. We simply had a nice dinner. It was raining but you didn't care about that. You insisted that we take our meals to go and sit in a park in one of the pagodas. We were the only ones outside in the rain. Just the two of us in a world muffled by the water falling from the sky."

Greg relaxed into the comfy sofa and let Mycroft's words weave a picture in his mind. Sherlock was uncharacteristically silent and Greg was grateful for it.

"You spread a blue blanket over the floor of the pagoda and pulled me down to sit with you. We ate with our fingers because we'd forgotten to ask for chopsticks or forks or any silverware at all. We talked about everything and nothing. We laughed. We must have sat there for a good three hours before the rain let up. After the rain stopped a breeze blew the rest of the clouds away and a ray of moonlight lit up our pagoda. It turned everything a silvery color and we both grew quiet. The drops hanging from the roof sparkled and shined brighter than any diamond I've ever seen. I kissed you there, in that pagoda, your lips tasted of wasabi and soy sauce and you. Every time I kiss you, you taste a bit different. So many flavors and scents around you Gregory. I am enthralled every time." Mycroft stopped suddenly just remembering that it wasn't only the two of them in the room.

He opened eyes he didn't know he'd closed and gazed at the other people in the room. Sherlock was sitting up again and watching him with a fond look that changed to a scowl as soon as John shifted a bit in his seat. Sherlock loved that Gregory and John thought he disliked Mycroft and Mycroft kept Sherlock's secret because he'd always kept Sherlock's secrets.

John had straightened in his armchair and was regarding his husband with a soft look. He was probably remembering the night he and Sherlock had done nearly the same thing on their own roof. Mycroft suddenly felt a bit bad that he'd seen even a moment of that evening. Some things were very private between couples. In his defense he had turned off the monitor as soon as he'd realized they were having a moment and he only seen as far as the two of them sitting under the umbrella for a few minutes.

He finally turned his gaze to his husband, half afraid that he'd find only confusion in those chocolate eyes. Instead he found himself looking at Greg's profile. Greg still had his eyes closed and face turned to the ceiling. His countenance was relaxed and for a moment Mycroft wondered if he'd fallen asleep again. "Tell me another," Greg's voice was hushed as though he were afraid of breaking some sort of spell on the room.

Mycroft cocked his head to the side in thought. "How about the time you got us captured and nearly killed by one of the nomad tribes of the Gobi Desert?"

The sudden cacophony of noise and flurry of movement as they all stared at him made Mycroft snicker.

"There are nomads in the Gobi Desert?" Sherlock.

"Where the bloody Hell was your assistant? Isn't she supposed to prevent those situations?" John.

"What do you mean I got us captured and nearly killed?" Gregory.

"Settle down," Mycroft said softly. "Just sit back and I'll tell you. Yes, Sherlock there are nomads in the Gobi Desert though the population averages about three people per square mile."