A/N: Another Greg and Mycroft chapter. Mystrade is my OTP (if you didn't know that you should definitely read my story Being 16!), so I can't help but write about them.

Warning for a mention of suicide.

Greg paces back and forth by the piano. He watches down the open walkway, waiting for Mycroft to come down the stairs. Mycroft's up in the shower and they're alone in the house, and Greg's just about ready to have an anxiety attack because of the nervousness of the conversation he needs to have with Mycroft.

Finally, Mycroft comes down the stairs. He's smiling, which he hadn't done in three weeks, and now Greg feels guilty for potentially taking it away.

"Hello," Mycroft says, settling his hands on Greg's hips and kissing him lightly. "Coffee? Eggs? I'm starving. So really, I'll eat whatever you make."

Greg smiles at that, but just as quickly frowns. "Hey, Myc, can we sit for a second? I need to talk to you about something."

Mycroft slowly frowns. "Uhm…sure. Is everything alright?"

"I just need to talk to you about Sherlock's return."

Mycroft furrows his brows. "Is something wrong with him?"

"No, of course not. I just need to run a few things by you."

Mycroft looks confused. "A few things?"

Greg leads Mycroft over to the dining room table, where he pulls a seat out for Mycroft and instructs him to sit. Greg takes the seat across from Mycroft and folds his hands in front of him.

"Look, love, sometimes when people go through traumatic events and have to return to everyday life, they change."

Mycroft's expression stays the same. "Change?"

"The doctors and your dad say he's acting fine, but that's because he's in a safe environment at the hospital. Here, even back in London, he might fear being safe for a very long time. A lot of the time, people can't adjust to their old life. People take shock differently. I've seen people who have been hostage for an hour completely lose it."

"Ok..."

"Just in the past year in this department, I've seen divorces, runaways, suicides-"

Mycroft grimaces.

Greg reaches over and grasps his arm. "I'm not trying to scare you love, I'm just trying to be realistic."

Mycroft nods. "Of course."

"Often times, when soldiers return from combat, they're known to sleep outside in tents or similar situations that were in war. Things like that help them slowly get around to the idea of being home."

"So..." Mycroft stares at him. "Are you suggesting I make Sherlock sleep in the garden?"

Greg chuckles. "No, of course not. I'm just saying that if you find Sherlock sleeping, like, in the bathtub or something, don't ask him what's wrong or suggest he move to his bed, just let him adjust.

"The doctor in Chicago said he's been prescribed anti-anxiety medication and sleeping pills. He's started the anxiety meds but he hasn't wanted to take the sleeping pills. So it's apparent that sleeping is hard, they're saying he's afraid of sleep."

Mycroft nods.

"He's going to be different, love. He might be standoffish, he may not want to talk; he might not want anything to do with any of us. Just don't-"

"Take it personally," Mycroft supplies.

Greg nods. "And look," he adds, "So they searched the house, found the room Steele had been using for his own shelter and office, it seems, and on his computer there were multiple recordings of conversations between John and Sherlock and you and Sherlock. The ones of John were played over and over, but not yours. Sherlock doesn't remember hearing them, so it seems Steele was playing them in the room while Sherlock was out and then..." Greg clears his throat. "He was hurting Sherlock after. Little cuts and scratches all over his body. The psych guy says it was to condition Sherlock to associate John's voice with pain, and the result is that Sherlock has hardly asked about John and each time he does, he's gone pale and ill."

Mycroft rubs his face. "God..."

"So we don't know how he's going I react to John at all. We need to explain to John that he needs to be patient and that Sherlock might be, y'know, a little different. He certainly looks different."

Mycroft nods. "Alright."

"I know everyone is ecstatic that he's back, I am too, I'm so happy he's going to be okay, but everyone needs to be realistic and not jump into 'Yay he's here!' and pause for a second at the 'he was abducted by a psychopath who was slowly killing him'. You understand, right?"

Mycroft nods again. "Of course. Thank you, Gregory. For everything."

"You're welcome," Greg says.

Later that afternoon, Greg asks Declan to call John and Olive over to the house. He knows it's better to talk to the three of them about Sherlock's return.

John and Olive arrive at the house at the same time, so Greg asks them to sit at the dining room table and offers them tea.

"You look really tense, Greg," John comments. "What's going on?"

Olive looks as if she knows exactly what's going on; Greg remembers Sherlock mentioning that her dad is a cop, so she probably does know what's happening. He probably already gave her this talk.

She glances at Greg, then leans over to John and gently touches his knee." John, they, uhm…they want you to be, y'know, prepared. For when he arrives."

John lets out an annoyed chuckle. "Prepared? I've been seeing a grief counselor every day for three weeks, I'm pretty sure I'm prepared."

"No, John, listen," Olive says.

"He'll be different," Greg joins. "He is not going to be the same person, and you need to understand that."

Greg glances at Declan, who is nervously chewing on his thumbnail. Greg thinks about how that poor kid's seen enough this past year, he probably fears the worst for when Sherlock gets home. Greg wishes he could say, 'But don't worry, he'll be fine eventually!', but he has no idea how Sherlock is going to be or for how long.

John shakes his head and sits up straighter. "You all need to stop treating me like a god damn child and—"

"You need to stop acting like one!" Mycroft yells from the entry to the dining room. Greg didn't notice he was there, and he jumps. He stomps further into the room and stops right in front of John's seat. "You're not seeing the big bloody picture, John! All you're seeing is that Sherlock is alive and you don't understand the reality of the fact that he is alive!"

John frowns. "I don't understand."

"People change, John! This is a traumatic experience! Sherlock was tortured. That man took Sherlock to Chicago to murder him, don't you see that? People change after things like this, John, and you're not ready for that."

"I am ready, I—"

"John," Greg steps in. "What you need to understand is that Sherlock might need space. If he says go, you go. If he says to stay, you stay. You wouldn't guess the number of spouses who come to me after stuff like this saying that the victim has left them. And that…we don't know if…"

"You need to be supportive," Mycroft says, much more calm this time. "Whatever he needs. You need to let him cope in his own way."

John looks around and Greg follows his gaze, checking on the other two kids. Olive is crying and glancing at Mycroft. Clearly he scared her. Declan is trying to hold back tears and staring out the window.

"Listen John," Greg says, his attention back on John. He takes a deep breath. "They found a bunch of recordings between you and Sherlock on Steele's computer. It, uhm…you see, he played them while Sherlock was asleep and…and then he…"

Mycroft cuts him off. "He hurt Sherlock to the sound of your voice, John. In result, Sherlock's hardly asked for and about you. We don't know how he's going to react to you in person."

John frowns deeply, and his eyes start to water.

"I was trying to put it delicately," Greg whispers to Mycroft.

"Like a bandage, Gregory."

John wipes his eyes. "I don't understand. Why would he do that?"

Mycroft answers before Greg can. "Because he's a psychopath, John. Because he wanted to hurt Sherlock as much as he could."

John leans forward. "God…Sherlock might hate me and it's not even my fault."

Olive wraps an arm around John's shoulders and buries her face in the side of his arm. Declan lifts a leg onto his chair to rest his head on his knee. Greg feels awful for having to talk to a bunch of kids about this. Grown adults is hard enough, but a few seventeen year olds makes him want to never do this again.

Mycroft clears his throat, and Greg notices for the first time that he's choked up, too.

"When he arrives tomorrow afternoon, you three can be here, but nobody else. We don't want to bombard him with visitors."

The kids don't say anything.

"I'm really sorry guys," Greg says.

Olive sits up and rubs her eyes, then Declan stands.

"Can I be excused?" he softly asks.

"Yeah, of course," Greg says. "Do you need anything?"

Declan shakes his head and leaves the dining room.

John coughs and sits up straight. "What time will they be home tomorrow?"

"Their flight lands at two in the afternoon."

John slowly stands. "I'll be here, then. Or…should I not be?"

"Don't be absurd John," Greg says. "Of course you should be."

John nods. "I'll see you tomorrow then."

Greg pats his shoulder as he passes to leave the house.

Greg asks Olive if she needs a ride home, and she agrees and thanks him. He drives her home and returns to find Mycroft in his bed.

Greg climbs into the bed with Mycroft and lays next to him.

"You okay?" Greg asks.

Mycroft shrugs. "Just worried."

"About?"

"About Sherlock, of course. I want him to be happy."

"With our support, he can be on the road to recovery."

"I'm afraid of what's going to happen if he doesn't take to John and John doesn't support it."

"You think John will, like, fight with him or something?"

"I don't know. Mr. Watson has a terrible temper and I don't want Sherlock to be on the receiving end of a tantrum."

"I understand," Greg says.

"I suppose we will see."

Greg leans over and kisses Mycroft.

Greg lays back over on his side and Mycroft sits up against the headboard. He looks around the room and Greg follows him up.

"What are you looking at?" Greg asks.

"Gregory, I believe when this is over, we should consider finding our own place to live."

"I have my own place to live, you—"

Mycroft glares at him.

"Oh…" Greg sighs. "You mean…together."

Mycroft huffs and lays back down on the bed, turning so his back is to Greg. "Never mind," he mutters.

Greg pats his shoulder. "Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't know what you meant!"

Mycroft grumbles.

"Let me try that again okay?" Greg clears his throat and smiles. "You mean together?" he cheerily asks. "Yes, of course, why didn't I think of that?!"

"I don't require mocking, Gregory."

"I'm not mocking you!" Greg cries. "I promise, I'd love for us to get a place together. I'd love to not feel weird about wanting to have sex with your dad down the hall."

Mycroft chuckles and turns so he can look at Greg over his shoulder. "Really?"

"Yes, of course. Whenever you're ready."

"We can start looking."

"Okay," Greg says, leaning over to kiss Mycroft's cheek.

"We can move when Sherlock's alright."

"Perfect," Greg agrees.