Disclaimer: My mother has always said that if wishes were horses, beggars would ride. Well, I don't see very many mounted beggars so I guess wishes don't come true. Doesn't stop me trying though does it? Still not mine and I make no money from these stories.

A/N: The snowed in idea is actually my son's so this chapter is dedicated to him. Hope you all enjoy it.

This chapter is also dedicated to janie17 for having the 100th review for this story. Thank you all for the wonderful reviews. Thanks especially to each of you (janie17 among them) that have review every chapter.

Week Two: Snowed In

Mycroft's hand stroked over Greg's head as he thought about that week. It had been a very good week. "Are you sure you want to hear about it?" He asked. "It wasn't all that interesting and we spent most of the week in bed."

Greg cracked one eye open and gave him an incredulous look. "We spent the week in bed and you think it wasn't very interesting?"

Mycroft frowned at him. "I am not sharing the intimate details of our love life with my brother and his husband, Gregory," he said stiffly. "So you may choose to pick a different story or I can tell you about the times during that week when we weren't in bed."

Greg pouted for a moment before nodding. "You'll tell me about the other times later though, right?"

Mycroft cleared his throat and nodded a bit mesmerized by Gregory's brown eyes. "Of course, if that is your wish."

Greg gave him a soft grin and nodded. "Now tell me about the not sexy times," he requested.

"Any time you are around me is a sexy time, Gregory," Mycroft breathed out. "You are a very sexy man."

Sherlock let out a vomiting sound and groaned loudly. "I refuse to sit here and listen to this sentimental drivel!" He shouted. "Either start a story or get a room. I don't care which."

Greg turned his head and glared at Sherlock before smirking at him. "You're just jealous, Sher. You want what I have."

Sherlock dropped the files he was holding, howled and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. "Delete!" He yelled out. "Damn you, Lestrade! Why? Why did you have to put those images in my head? He's my brother! Delete, delete, DELETE!"

John snickered and then let go with a full blown laugh. "That was evil, Greg. Very evil."

Mycroft only shook his head in amusement. "Be quiet Sherlock," he finally called out as his younger brother's howls increased in volume. "Stop it! Or I swear I will detail every single time Gregory and I have made love."

Sherlock's howls stopped abruptly and he calmly picked up the files he'd dropped. "Carry on," he waved a hand with a bland expression that only made John and Gregory laugh harder.

Mycroft waited for the two of them to calm down before he started his story. All the time he was waiting his fingers rubbed at Gregory's head. He'd come so close to losing his husband. His heart nearly stopped at the thought. He couldn't contemplate a world without Gregory in it. It was too painful. He was actually thankful for the last few days. Helping Gregory remember their life together was reminding him why he shouldn't take his husband or his cobbled together family for granted. Maybe he should call Mummy and ask her to visit and assist him in reminding Gregory.

MH/GL MH/GL MH/GL

"Mycroft dear, what are you doing here?" Margaret "Mummy" Holmes exclaimed as her oldest son and his dashing husband entered the music room of the Holmes country house. "And Gregory darling, you came for a visit as well?"

Greg gave the woman a warm hug. "I forced Myc to bring me to see you, Mummy. Held a gun to his head and everything."

Mummy gave out her tinkling laugh and a gentle smack to his chest. "Don't steal John's gun to threaten your husband, Greg darling. I'm quite sure he didn't need to be threatened to come visit his old mother. He is quite the 'mama's boy'." She frowned then. "Oh dash it all!"

"Mummy?" Mycroft strode towards his husband and his mother in concern. "Whatever is the matter, Mummy?"

She gave him a sheepish smile. "I do wish you had alerted me that you were coming, dear," she admonished. "Some of the ladies from my bridge club and I had planned a trip, you see? We leave in the morning. Had you phoned I would have asked them to postpone the trip. I can't now because it's too late to change our reservations."

Greg grinned at her. "Go on your trip, Mummy, Myc and I were only going to be around for the weekend and you can come to London and visit all of us when you get back. We'll make sure to clear a week or so."

"Yes, Mummy, do go," Mycroft seconded. "We'd feel terribly guilty if we stopped you from joining your friends in your fun."

Mummy gave them both a shrewd look and then smiled at them again. "I have the best boys on the planet," she declared. "I'll go but the two of you will stay here for the weekend. If you go back to London then you'll just end up working and all four of you boys work far too much to be healthy."

Mycroft gave a long suffering sigh as though greatly put upon. "Yes, Mummy if you insist."

"I do," she confirmed. "Now go and take your cases to your room and then join me for dinner?"

Greg and Mycroft agreed quickly and left to unpack and dress for dinner. The next morning they saw Mummy off before racing back into the house and to the music room for their original purpose in visiting it. Mycroft thought it rather poetic to make Gregory's body sing in the one room of the house designed for musical pursuits.

The rest of Saturday passed in a bit of a blur for both of them (that is all I'm willing to admit in front of my brother and his husband, Gregory, so don't look at me like that). When Sunday morning dawned it didn't. It was more the lack of light that woke Mycroft rather than sun shining in his eyes. He scowled to himself that he had woken so early and turned his head to check the time.

The digital clock on the bedside table was dark and silent. "Wonderful," Mycroft muttered realizing that it was the sudden silence of the heating shutting down that had woken him. He forced himself to let go of Gregory so that he could look at his watch and then he gasped in shock. It was 8:47 in the morning. He hadn't slept so late since their honeymoon though he didn't think that counted as they had habitually not gone to sleep until after six in the morning on their honeymoon.

"Gregory," he whispered. "Gregory, wake up." He put his arm back around his husband and squeezed before laying a line of kisses up the other man's neck. "Gregory," he called again.

"What?" Gregory muttered sleepily. "I'm sleeping, Myc."

"The power's out," Mycroft announced.

Gregory let out a sleepy sound of discontent. "And why do I care?"

"Because that means that the heat is also not working. We should start a fire before it gets too cold."

Gregory finally blinked his eyes open and looked over his shoulder at his husband. "And if the power comes right back on?"

Mycroft gave him a wicked grin. "Then we won't need blankets to lie in front of the fire, will we?"

"Capital idea, Mr. Holmes," Gregory returned the grin.

MH/GL MH/GL MH/GL

"Pick a different story!" Sherlock shouted and leapt from the rug in front of the fireplace where he'd been reclining and studying the files while he listened. "Anything else."

"Sherlock," John chuckled. "It's a completely different house."

Sherlock glared at him as he gathered the documents and moved to the desk in the corner. "If they would stoop to do that in Mother's house then what makes you think they'd hesitate to do it in their own?"

Greg turned his head into his husband's stomach and laughed until the pain in his head forced him to stop.