A/N: Mycroft chapter!

Mycroft gets on the first plane he can catch on Tuesday morning. Of course, he finds this terribly inconvenient. 'Family problems' as he called it, couldn't come at a worse time. Not when he's trying his hardest to finish his last month-long projects in mere weeks so that American boy can take over for him. God, how he wishes to be out of this business.

Tessa, his house-keeper/maid/pretty much only friend here offers to drive him to the airport on Tuesday. He insists that she doesn't need to, that he's sure she's got better things to do than this, but she insists. She packs his carry on for him, and he's actually more than pleased to find a lunchbag with homemade soup, two sandwiches, juice, sliced fruit, and two 'Ding Dongs', these ridiculously fantastic frosting filled chocolate cakes that Mycroft never lets Tessa buy. For the trip only, she claimed. To cheer him up.

The drive to the airport is silent on his end, but Tessa asks questions every so often.

"Got your passport?" she asks.

"Of course."

"And your phone? The charger? Your laptop? Did you send those reports?"

"Yes, yes, yes, and yes. Please, stop worrying. I'm fine."

"You're bursting at the seams, I know that. I'm just making sure you're going to make it through this flight."

Mycroft clears his throat and sits up straighter, hating that he was caught in his worry. Surely she's noticed he didn't even bother combing his hair today, he took a five minute shower (as opposed to his usual fifteen minute shower), plus he's wearing the most comfortable pair of jeans he owns. Usually he wears suits on flights, but today he couldn't be bothered to get one out. All he wants is to get home as quickly as possible.

"I should've been there days ago," he says.

"I know. And your dad knows."

Mycroft shakes his head. "My father is upset."

"Your father is upset with the world. Not with you. This isn't your fault."

"I shouldn't have…" Mycroft sighs and rubs his eyes. "I shouldn't have taken him to Lestrade's office. I shouldn't have gotten him involved."

"Hey, hey," Tessa stops him. "It was routine, wasn't it? Sherlock takes these cases all the time, you had no idea."

Mycroft doesn't say anything. Arguing with her is pointless. The responsibility he feels for this incident isn't going to go away until Sherlock is home and the bastard is dead.

Mycroft finally makes it back to a gloomy, rainy London night. The walk off the tarmac leaves him cold and wet, but seeing Greg standing by the baggage carousel makes up for it. He runs to Greg, throwing himself into Greg's arms and sighing contently when Greg's arms wrap around him.

"I've missed you so much," Greg whispers in his ear, against his neck.

Mycroft just breathes, as if taking the first breath he's had since he went back from the last visit. Moving back to London and into the flat he's already looking at for himself and Lestrade can't come fast enough.

Just a few more weeks, they continuously tell each other. Two months, tops. By the end of the summer they'd see each other again.

Mycroft didn't anticipate seeing Greg this soon.

They gather Mycroft's small amount of luggage (he still has clothes at home), then make their way to Mycroft's house, where Mycroft insists on being. Of course, Greg said he didn't mind, he knows this isn't a social call.

Mycroft's unsurprised to find John there. No doubt he's been spending the night here all weekend, and for a second it bothers him that John is there, sleeping in Sherlock's bed, using his stuff, but he quickly notices the rumpled sofa and knows John is sleeping downstairs.

Clement runs to Mycroft from the kitchen, and Mycroft welcomes his dad in a huge hug. When he feels Clement starts to sob against him, he pulls back and holds his dad at arms length.

"It's alright, Dad," he says, "I'm here."

Clement wipes his eyes and nods. He turns back towards the kitchen and leads Mycroft there. "Right, yes. You're here. You're…you're here. Are you hungry? Of course you're hungry, let me get you something to eat. What do you want? Anything at all, Paris has made enough food to last weeks. Anything at all, you name it."

Mycroft glances at Greg after his father's long rambling. Greg answers with a look that says, 'Yeah, he always sounds that worked up.' and Mycroft frowns deeply.

"No Dad, I'm fine."

Clement opens the refrigerator. Mycroft shakes John's hand.

"Mycroft really, tell me what to get you. I need to get you something to eat. You must be starving."

Mycroft knows what his father is doing, trying to be extra helpful because one of his children is gone, but he doesn't know how to handle that.

"Sure," Mycroft finally says. "I'll just take a cup of tea, Dad."

Clement nods eagerly, then rushes to get Mycroft that cup of tea.

While he's busy, Mycroft turns back to Greg. "Why don't we go talk about this?"

Greg nods. "Yeah, of course. I've got everything set up at the table, actually, so let's just—"

Greg starts to walk towards the dining room table, so Mycroft follows. It takes only a second to notice that John is following.

"Uhm, John…" Mycroft starts.

"It's alright, I've heard it all."

Greg clears his throat. "Actually, there was…there's something new."

John's eyes snap to him. "What?"

"Look, John, we don't—" Greg stops and corrects himself. "I don't want you to hear this, alright?"

"Well, now I know there's a development and you're keeping it from me!"

Greg stands firmer and places his hands on his hips, trying to be stern, but looking down at his shoes doesn't help his cause.

"This is ridiculous," John says. "Why can't I know?"

Mycroft joins. "I think what Lestrade is trying to say is that you're already so worried and we don't want to overflow you with stress."

"Over—" John shakes his head. "Mycroft, don't you understand how stressed I am over it already?!"

"Yes, of course I understand, but you need to finish out the last week of school. You've only got a few more days left, and after that we'll talk about it."

"So making me stress for days is helping me finish the term with a clear head?"

"John, stop acting like a child—"

"Stop treating me like one!"

Mycroft takes a deep breath.

John crosses his arms over his chest.

"Go home, John," Greg says before Mycroft can say anything.

"When school ends in a few days, if this is still…a problem…we'll tell you."

John sighs. "This is ridiculous," he says, then turns to storm out of the house, barely missing Clement holding two cups of tea. The door slams and everyone still in the room just looks at each other.

Clement sets the cups down. "I'll be back," he says, following John.

"That went well," Greg says.

"I don't care," Mycroft says, going to the table where there are files and files stacked on top of each other, papers thrown everywhere, and maps sprawled across the wood. "What's going on?"

Greg takes a place at the head of the table, picking up the file there. "He was spotted."

"Sherlock?" Mycroft asks, taking the file from Greg.

Greg shakes his head. Mycroft looks at the photo clipped in the file and sees that it's not Sherlock at all.

"That's him?" he asks.

Greg nods. "Boarding a plane."

"To?"

"We don't know."

Mycroft's gaze snaps up to Greg. "What do you mean you don't know?"

"It was private. We…we just don't know where it went."

"Was Sherlock with him?"

"We don't know."

Mycroft sits in the chair with force. "Gregory."

"What do you want me to say, Mycroft? We're working on arses off for this, all I can say is I'm sorry."

Mycroft slams his fist on the table. "I want you to find him!"

Greg looks like he's about to fight back, but he visibly stops himself.

Instead, he places a hand on Mycroft's shoulder. "I'm sorry, baby."

Mycroft rubs his face. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't tell at you, I'm sorry."

Mycroft feels Greg kiss his temple. "Don't worry about it. I promise you, I'm doing the best I can."

"I know," Mycroft says. "And I appreciate it."

Greg kisses his temple again. "Come on, let's go to bed. We'll talk more about this in the morning."

Mycroft nods. "Alright. Are you staying here?"

"If you want me to."

Mycroft stands and takes Greg tight in his arms. "Yes, please stay."

Greg nods. He kisses Mycroft's cheek, then Mycroft pulls him upstairs to his old bedroom. They fall asleep fast, Mycroft tired from travel and he knows Greg hasn't slept much since this started. He's glad Greg is there, but he wishes he didn't have to be home because of this.