A/N: Here's the second half of the flashback.

xOxford, England June 1991x

Greg played the rest of the second set, looking Mycroft's way often and sending him a cheeky wink every now and then. Mycroft had bounced around a bit more with the music, Rosa giving him a smug smirk every time he looked her way.

"Alright boys and girls this is our last song. You all have been great." Greg slid his guitar on for the last time, and the guitarist took his off and walked over to an electric keyboard. Greg looked at his bandmates to see if they were ready and nodded.

"Carry on My Wayward Son. There'll be peace when you are done. Lay your weary head to rest. Don't you cry no more."

The band started playing. Mycroft thought he recognized the song and bobbed his head along with the music. Greg looked over and smiled. Mycroft returned the smile, watching with awe as Greg's fingers fly over the strings.

Greg had caught the look of awe Mycroft had and strutted around the stage only drifting back to the microphone when he had to sing. Greg was thoroughly showing off for Mycroft and he was enjoying it.

By the third chorus the crowd was singing along and rocking out. Greg got really into playing the guitar solos, loosing himself in the music. As the song came to a close, he dropped to his knees and leaned back, strumming the last few notes with all his might.

The song was over and the crowd erupted into applause and cheers. Mycroft was not immune to the awe and joined in cheering and whistling. Greg sat on his heels, his chest heaving as he regained his breath. Seeing Mycroft, Greg chuckled and stood up. He took his guitar off and bowed a few times with the rest of the band.

The applause died down and people started to filter out while the band packed up their instruments. Mycroft just stood at the table with Rosa. When it was apparent that My wasn't going to move, she shoved him towards the stage. "Go on. He obviously likes you. Standing here like an idiot isn't going to help that."

"You sure?" Mycroft's expression conveyed his hope but desire not to abandon his best friend.

"Yeah. I'll be fine, that bartender over there has been making googly eyes with me all night. I want to find out if the rest of him is as interesting as his ass."

"Alright" Mycroft smiled gratefully and walked over to the front of the stage. He stood there for a few moments awkwardly, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. Greg turned and bent down to grab his foot pedals when he caught sight of Mycroft. Greg smiled.

"Hey" Mycroft said softly.

"Hey, I'll be right with you" Greg said picking up his foot pedals and shoved them in their case. He turned to his bandmates. "You guys good without me?"

Liam rolled his eyes and continued to break down his drum kit. The guitarist looked at Mycroft, who was blushing and fidgeting with his shirt again, and chuckled. "Yeah, go on. We got this."

"Thanks" Greg jumped down right next to Mycroft. "So care to get a drink with me?" Greg asked shoving his hands in his back pockets and rocked on his heels.

"Sure" Mycroft said quietly. Greg smiled and started walking to the inside of the pub. Mycroft followed shoving his hands in his pockets. Greg still had his hands in his back pockets, which drew Mycroft's eyes to the brunette's leather clad ass. Greg flicked his eyes over his shoulder to make sure the taller man was following and saw him staring at his ass. Just to mess with Mycroft, Greg wiggled it a little as he moved to a vacant booth.

Mycroft took a deep breath and slid into the booth. Greg signaled a waitress and slid in across from Mycroft.

"So Mike, what do you like to do in your spare time?"

"Nothing really"

"Oh come on nobody does nothing."

"Well, I do like to read."

"Yeah? What's your favorite book?"

"1984 by George Orwell."

"Good book, although I prefer Orwell's Animal Farm; But to each his own. What else do you like to do?"

"Umm, I'm classically trained on the piano, I can speak 10 languages, I like to play chess, and I paint."

Greg sat back looking impressed by the younger man. He opened his mouth but the waitress came over and set down a couple of beers in front of them.

"Can I get you anything else?" She asked leering at Greg.

"Yeah can I get a burger and chips, I'm famished" Greg answered still looking at Mycroft, "Mike, do you want anything?"

Mycroft looked up at the waitress and smirked at the slight pout she had because Greg was paying attention to him.

"I'll have a salad, if you have it. If not, a burger as well."

When Greg still wouldn't look at her, she huffed. "I'll be back with your food."

Greg picked up a pen that had been on the table and started doodling on a napkin.

"So you paint. What's your favorite style? Please don't say postmodern."

Mycroft chuckled. "No, I can't stand that crap." Greg let out a relieved sigh, and Mycroft chuckled again. "I like impressionism, however, stylistically I paint post-impressionist."

"So you like Degas, Pissarro, Monet, and Renoir, but paint like Van Gogh, Rousseau, and Cézanne."

"Yeah, although Cézanne is considered both impressionist and post-impressionist."

"True but it all depends on what time period the painting you're talking about comes from. He was only part of the impressionist movement from 1870-1878" Greg argued, jabbing the pen in the air towards Mycroft to accentuate his point. It was My's turn to sit back, impressed that Greg knew so much about art. Greg went back to drawing on the napkin.

The waitress came back with their food and set two burgers down in front of them. Greg moved the napkin he had been drawing on to the side. The waitress still trying to get Greg's attention nodded to the napkin, "So what you drawing there?"

"Nothing; can I get some ketchup."

"Sure" she huffed and stormed off.

Mycroft couldn't hold back his laughter any longer. Greg looked at the laughing redhead confused.

"What?"

Mycroft waved his hand and sighed with a smile. "Nothing."

Greg raised an eyebrow at Mycroft, but let it slide, opting to dig in to his burger.

Curious, Mycroft picked up the napkin. He stared at it blankly for a bit. Greg saw Mycroft looking at the napkin and swallowed the bite of burger he had been chewing.

"It's not that good, I know. I'm a rubbish artist."

Mycroft shook his head. "No it's quite good. Did you mean to write in Circular Gallifreyan?"

Greg blushed. "You can read Circular Gallifreyan?"

Mycroft nodded and bit his lip as he stared at the napkin that said Your Sexy in a stylized Circular Gallifreyan.

A different waitress dropped off a bottle of ketchup, but the two didn't notice. Mycroft finally put the napkin down and started eating.

"So Greg, we've mostly talked about me and what I like to do, but what about you? What is it you like to do?"

Greg grinned and grabbed the ketchup bottle, squirting some on an empty corner of his plate. He picked up a chip and dipped it in the ketchup.

"Let's see other than playing the guitar, I like to read, watch telly and play football" Greg popped the chip into his mouth.

"And you draw."

"And I draw."

"What about family?"

"I'm the oldest of 7. There's the twins: Fred and George, the 15 year old mischievous little shits; the triplets: Lucas, Matthew, and Nathaniel, they're 10 and better behaved than the twins, but they can still stir up trouble. Then there's little Emily, she just turned 5 and is the only girl in the house besides my mum."

"What do your parents do?"

"My mother's a nurse and my father's a professor of Art History at Cambridge."

"Ahhh, thus your extensive knowledge of Cézanne."

Greg nodded. "What about you, any siblings? What do your parents do?"

Mycroft took a drink of his beer before answering. Greg chuckled.

"Umm, you've got a little..." he said making vague motions to his upper lip. Mycroft looked at him confused.

Greg sighed, a smile still on his face. He leaned across the booth and lifted his hand to Mycroft's face wiping some foam off of Mycroft's upper lip with his thumb.

Greg's expression softened and his thumb stroked Mycroft's lips. A shiver ran down Mycroft's spin, his eyes wide and hopeful.

Greg used the knuckles under Mycroft's chin to pull the redhead's face closer. Their lips were centimeters apart when Mycroft's phone rang.

Mycroft cursed under his breath, but answered anyway.

"Hello…Shit! I'll find him." Mycroft hung up and pulled some money out of his pocket and set it on the table. Greg looked at Mycroft, worry crossing his face.

"I'm sorry, I've got to go."

Mycroft left before Greg could say anything. He was cursing Sherlock for running away tonight of all nights.

That little shit knows how to ruin my life.

Mycroft ran back to his dorm room to pick up his car keys. He got in the door and turned the lights on to see Sherlock curled up asleep on his couch. Mycroft glared at his little brother from across the room, but his expression softened because the little shit was adorable when he was asleep.

He walked over to the couch and sat on the edge, lightly shaking Sherlock awake. Sherlock stretched and yawned.

"Hey My" Sherlock said sleepily.

"Hey Sherly, what are you doing here?"

"Mrs. Anders made me go outside while I was in the middle of an experiment."

"So you ran away?"

"Yes, she yelled at me My." Sherlock said timidly. Even though he didn't have to worry about their father's wrath anymore, Sherlock still feared a beating whenever he got caught with a messy experiment.

"What was this experiment about Sherly?" Mycroft asked suspiciously.

"I made my own acid out of cleaning supplies and I wanted to test it on certain fabrics." Sherlock replied excitedly, he loved sharing his experiments with his older brother.

"And what fabrics did you use?" Mycroft was pretty sure he knew what the answer was, but wanted his little brother to confirm it.

"A cashmere jumper and a pair of jeans."

"Who was the owner of these clothing items?"

Sherlock averted his gaze and mumbled something under his breath.

"I'm sorry I can't hear you, you're going to have to speak up Sherly."

"They were Mrs. Anders."

Mycroft sighed and closed his eyes, massaging his temples.

"Sherly, you can't go destroying other people's property for the sake of an experiment, especially without their expressed permission."

"But My – "

"No buts. Now I'm going to take you back to the manor and you're going to apologize to Mrs. Anders."

Two and a half hours later and forcing his little brother to apologize to the housekeeper, which took the longest, Mycroft was walking back into the pub hoping Greg was still there.

Mycroft saw Rosa at the bar, who waved him over once she spotted him. Mycroft walked over, while looking around to see if he could find Greg.

"Where did you go My?"

"Sherlock decided to run away. Luckily the place he ran to was my dorm room, but I still had to drive him home." Mycroft was still looking around the bar, but didn't see Greg anywhere. Rosa saw the hope in her best friend's eyes die.

"He left about 10 minutes ago, asked me to give you this." She pulled out a napkin and handed it to Mycroft. "As soon as you left that waitress descended on him like a ravenous wolf on a wounded deer, but he still ignored her. You must have left quite the impression."

Mycroft looked at the napkin and smiled. It was the same one Greg had drawn on earlier, with an addition – his number.

"So you ready to go or…" Mycroft asked looking pointedly at the bartender.

"Yeah c'mon" Rosa hopped off the bar stool and walked out with Mycroft. Mycroft pocketed the napkin.

xXx End Flashback xXx

Greg looked at Mycroft, shocked.

"Gregory" Mycroft looked at his partner, worried.

"That was you." Greg stated with wonder. The mystery that had been nagging him all this time was finally solved."I looked for you for years, but I couldn't find you. You had my number, why didn't you call?"

"I was too scared that it was all just a fluke and once you got to know me more, you'd change your mind."

Greg kissed Mycroft pouring all the love he felt for the man into it.

"It wasn't a fluke. I love you now and I'm sure I would have loved you then."

Mycroft smiled and Greg kissed him again.

The kiss was sweet and full of love, and Mycroft was eternally grateful this was Greg's reaction. He had been so scared that when Greg had found out about this he'd leave him again. He returned the kiss silently thanking his best friend for urging him to tell the truth.

Greg pulled away a while later slightly out of breath. He rested his forehead against Mycroft's and looked into his warm blue eyes, losing himself.

"Marry me My." Greg breathed out, still lost in the blue pools of emotion.

"What?" Mycroft asked confused, hope shining in his eyes that he had heard right.

"Mycroft Holmes will you marry me?" Greg asked, his hand coming up to cup Mycroft's face. He had never been surer about anything in his life and that confidence showed in his eyes, causing Mycroft's breath to catch.

"Well? My?" Greg asked a bit worried when Mycroft didn't answer.

"Yes" Mycroft breathed out.

"Yes?" Greg asked excitement replacing his worry.

"Yes" Mycroft said determinedly with a smile. Greg's face split into a wide smile and kissed Mycroft deeply. It was the answer he had been hoping for and it was better because he finally knew Mycroft was the man who stole his heart when he was young.