A/N: Thank you for sticking around for another chapter. The following chapters are probably going to be a bit short, but that's cause they reached a natural stopping point or they would've gone on forever. I was going to wait to post this chapter, but then I thought eh what the heck.

Just so you guys know this is my first multi-chapter fic that I've felt ready for human consumption. So please be merciful. Frankie (my muse) is a fickle bastard that likes to toy with me when I should be sleeping/doing homework. So if there's some grammar errors or it rambles on let me know.

But I'm rambling. So with this I bid you adieu, and happy reading.

Disclaimer: I do not own BBC Sherlock, those are the creations of Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss and most importantly Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. It's their sandbox and I'm just playing in it.

xXx

Sherlock was lying on the couch, his hands steepled under his chin and eyes closed, when John stumbled into the flat after drinking with Lestrade. Sherlock peeked one eye open as John closed the door.

"Drinking with Lestrade again?"

"Yes" John huffed as he plopped into his chair. He sat there and studied Sherlock's slender form stretched out on the couch.

"Umm Sherlock…"

"Yes, John?" Sherlock turned his head and looked John straight in the eyes.

John blushed and muttered "Never mind."

John got up and walked towards his room, stopping at the doorway. "Goodnight, Sherlock." And disappeared up the stairs.

Sherlock crinkles his face in confusion. "Sweet dreams, John" he whispered as John left the room.

xXx

John's words and the alcohol made Greg feel brave. He took a chance and texted Mycroft.

So I was wondering if you'd like to go to dinner with me sometime. –GL

When Mycroft felt his phone buzz he scowled, everyone he worked with knew he detested texting. However the scowl turned into a smile when he saw it was a text from Gregory.

Dinner with you would be fabulous. –MH

Greg had butterflies in his stomach when he read Mycroft's reply. John was right. He quickly tapped out his reply before he lost his nerve.

How about Friday at 8, schedules permitting of course. –GL

I wouldn't miss it for the world. –MH

xXx

Greg felt like he was floating on air the for the rest of the week, not even Sherlock's snarkiness could sour his mood.

Friday finally came around and thankfully Greg didn't have a case. He was finishing up some paperwork when he heard a knock at his office door.

"Come in."

The door opened to reveal Mycroft in his usual 3 piece suit complete with umbrella.

"Detective Inspector, ready for dinner?"

Greg smiled, and got up grabbing his jacket.

"Yes I am, and you can call me Greg, you know."

"I know."

"Good. So where do you want to go?"

"If you don't mind, I already made us reservations."

"Not at all. Lead the way."

Mycroft smiled, and walked back to the elevators that led out of New Scotland Yard.

xXx

The date had gone perfectly. Good food, good wine, great conversation. It was all that Greg could have hoped for. They walked up to Greg's door chatting about nothing in particular. Greg paused in front of his door and turned around to look at Mycroft.

"Well I guess this is goodnight."

"Yes I suppose," Mycroft said his head down, hands fidgeting with his ever present umbrella.

Greg smiled at Mycroft's nervousness. "Hey Mycroft."

Mycroft looked up and was surprised when Greg's lips met his own. He closed his eyes and reciprocated the kiss a bit hesitantly at first.

After a few moments, Greg pulled away from Mycroft.

"Goodnight Mycroft. We must do this again."

"I agree. Goodnight Gregory."

With that Greg unlocked his door and went inside as Mycroft walked back to the car. A good night indeed.

xXx

I warned you Frankie was fickle. But anyway...You see that box in the corner. It does this magic thing where if you type in what you think I'll see it.

*gasp* Witchcraft! I know! But yeah please write a review and let me know what you think. Good, Bad, or Ugly. I don't care, just let me know.

Again I'm rambling, so Tah and see you next chapter.