Title: People Like Us
Author: Jessie Blackwood
Pairing: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Fandoms: Sherlock
Rating: NC-17
Series: 1) Bonfire Heart
Disclaimer: Sherlock Holmes and John Watson are not my characters, they are public domain. Anything that resembles Sherlock BBC belongs of course to Mr Moffat and Mr Gatiss and is theirs alone. The plot is mine. Any resemblance to anyone living or dead is otherwise purely coincidental.
WARNING: AU
Note: I recommend you read Bonfire Heart before this one, then you will know what is going on. This follows on directly after Mycroft picks Greg up from the airport in the Bonfire Heart Epilogue.
Summary: Mycroft and Greg get together after Greg returns from serving with MSF. However, all is not well, but Mycroft is there with support and help, and could it be love?

***

Chapter 1: We Don't Need Much...

Despite himself, it wasn't long before Greg's eyes were drooping and he was fighting to stay awake. It didn’t take a man of Mycroft’s intellect to see that Gregory was exhausted by the flight and the last few weeks were rapidly catching up with him. They were well fed, relaxed and content with their revelations to each other. There was nothing left that need be said. Mycroft had no compunction about dispatching Greg to one of the guest rooms where a warm comfortable bed awaited him, as promised, and then Mycroft left him to his own devices. The walk to his own room across the landing, however, was a distinctly lonely one. Despite the fact that Greg Lestrade was in his house, in a bed a scant few yards away, Mycroft felt somewhat adrift. The thought that the man was finally under his roof, after so many weeks wondering and worrying what might happen to him, thoughts at the mercy of his overactive imagination, well… It was intoxicating, he thought. Now it had been confirmed that Greg wanted to explore a relationship with him, by the man telling Mycroft that he would be passing his case permanently across to Rayne, well… Mycroft wasn’t sure what to do. Will this be a passing thing for Gregory, something he needs to work out of his system? Will it work between us? Are we compatible enough? After all, we did begin as mortal enemies...

Mycroft got himself ready for bed and lay between the warm blankets staring at the ceiling, unable to find sleep. Light—whether from the moon or street lights outside—cast a few pale rays across the ceiling, occasionally intersected by the headlamps of passing cars that arced across his field of vision and were gone as fast as they appeared. It began to rain, a light hissing sound at first, and then the first roll of thunder accompanied it. Mycroft sighed, knowing that, elusive as sleep had been, it would be bloody impossible to find now. He was restless and unsettled by the fact that the object of his affections was so close, and yet so damn far away; across a corridor, safe behind a bedroom door, sound asleep, untouchable.

Somewhere around one AM, the rain had not abated when Mycroft thought he heard something above the constant pattering of drops on his window. He strained to hear but gave up and went to see if he could locate it instead. It was coming from Greg’s room. Distressed whimpering and low moans reached his ears. Mycroft realised uncomfortably that he had no idea what to do next. He rested his hand on the door handle, unsure whether to open it and go check on his guest, or whether that would be considered an invasion of privacy…. He was about to enter when he heard a groan, and then rustling, followed by soft footfalls, quickly followed by the ensuite light and air vent turning on. Ah, well, awake then. Mycroft retreated to his room before Gregory realised he was there.

Half an hour later, Mycroft was immediately on high alert when he heard his door click open. He had been dozing, rather than properly sleeping. He waited until the door had opened sufficiently to allow ingress, allowing the shape to become more distinct until it resolved itself into a shadowy version of his guest. In the darkness there was probably no way Gregory could see if he was awake, and so Mycroft kept still, keeping his breathing even, waiting to see what would happen. The man moved to the bed, and Mycroft kept his eyes closed, his breathing slow. Gingerly, Greg lifted the covers and sat down carefully, then slid himself in beside Mycroft, his back to him. He made no sound, just a relieved little sigh. In moments his breathing evened out, and he fell soundly asleep.

Ages later, Mycroft woke to the bed moving gently as Greg got up, carefully doing his best not to disturb his host. Mycroft again kept his eyes closed, as though nothing had happened. He heard the door click, then rolled over, noting that the bedside clock said it was 6.15am. The warm space where Greg had lain smelled faintly of him, of his hair and his aftershave and Greg’s own distinct scent; warm, slightly woodsy, very male. Mycroft could not sleep after that so he got up and padded to the kitchen, only to find a mussed and sleepy Greg making drinks.

“Good morning,” Mycroft offered airily, doing his best to appear unconcerned.

“Morning.” Greg was wary, pouring water onto the teabags and carefully ignoring the man who had come up beside him.

“Is one of those for me?”

“Er...yeah. I was awake...so I figured…”

“Good idea, we can bring them back to bed.” The look Greg shot him would have been comical, if he hadn’t looked so worried. “Did you sleep well?” Mycroft asked.

“I...er...yeah, okay, I guess…”

“You don’t sound confident of that, and I have to say, you do not look your best, Gregory. Was the bed alright for you? Comfortable enough?” For a moment, Greg looked at him as if assessing whether Mycroft had realised but Mycroft looked innocently blank and smiled encouragingly.

“It was...fine, yes, thanks.”

“Good.” There was a pregnant pause as Greg stirred the tea and Mycroft waited. “Is anything the matter, Greg?” Mycroft prompted gently.

“No, no, not at all. Why?”

“You seems a little distracted. I think you should have more sleep, don’t you? Take your drink back to bed with you and relax. You are on holiday, and so am I. We can take the opportunity to rest as much as we wish. There’s no rush, unless you are hungry.”

“No, not hungry yet. I’m fine for now.” Greg took his tea and made his way back to bed, his own bed. Mycroft watched him go, wondering why it bothered the man so much that Mycroft mustn’t know about him crawling into his bed at two in the morning. Surely he must have been prepared to deal with me waking up and finding him there? Or maybe he was just too tired to care and is now regretting his actions?

Instead of ignoring it, Mycroft followed Greg to his bedroom and waited for him to get settled.

“Gregory?” he asked from the door, watching the man settle himself between the covers before reaching for his tea.

“Uh...Yeah?”

“Are you quite alright? I mean…” he sipped his tea for distraction purposes. “Not wanting to rush things, but it seems rather silly, beginning a relationship and then…” He shrugged. “Are we not up to sharing a bed quite yet?”

“I thought it was maybe too soon…”

“Well, we have kissed, and made our intentions clear. Why should we not progress to a more intimate relationship? Assuming both parties agree, that is.”

Greg regarded him for a moment. “Mycroft...I have something to confess...Last night...I...I was a bit...well, restless. The storm… Couldn’t sleep and I....well, I slipped into your bedroom and…”

“So it wasn’t a dream,” Mycroft lied easily. He smiled, reassuringly. “You should have asked me. I wouldn’t have said no.”

“I was too tired. I’m sorry…I just...needed company?”

“Gregory, you need to learn to trust me. Of course it was alright. But…” He fixed Greg with a look. “I need you to be honest with me, Gregory.”

“Eh?”

“Completely honest. Especially as we are embarking upon a commitment to each other that requires communication to make it work. You were not merely restless, were you?”

Greg was silent for a while, sitting in his bed, just staring. Then he shook his head like a small boy caught in a lie. “I’ve been getting...nightmares, I guess you could call them. Disturbing dreams at best. Sorry…I think the storm last night triggered it.”

“Pish. You never need to apologize for nightmares, Gregory. They are not under your control and it is easy to see where they originate from.”

“Yeah, well….It’s not something I wanted to inflict upon you.”

“Gregory. Your choice of words… If we are in partnership, then you are not inflicting anything on me. I would freely choose to help you carry those burdens, if you can trust me to do so. Is that not what partners do?”

“We’re partners? You and me, together?”

“I thought we had crossed that bridge already.”

“Yeah but...hearing you say it, it’s...nice.” Greg smiled with affection. “It’s really nice.”

“Come to bed, Gregory,” Mycroft invited.

“What, now?”

“No time like the present.” Mycroft waited as Greg levered himself out of his bed and padded across the floor to the door. “Follow me,” he said, gently, and walked into his room, Greg following dutifully behind.

Mycroft crossed to his bed and put his tea down on the bedside table, then climbed under the covers. He turned to see Gregory looking a little forlorn, standing there uncertainly on the threshold. There was a very close resemblance to an adult-sized toddler wanting to climb into his parents’ bed, but Gregory was about as far from being a toddler as was possible to be and in no way did Mycroft consider himself a parent.

“You sure this is okay?” Greg asked again, a little uncertain. “I mean...I don’t have to. Wouldn’t want you to feel uncomfortable… but....”

Mycroft spurred himself to movement, tugging on the duvet, lifting it in invitation. “Of course I do not feel uncomfortable, Gregory,” he said. “Come on.” Greg shuffled to the side of the bed and sat down, placing his own tea on the bedside cabinet on his side of the bed, before swinging his feet under the duvet. They sat together like that for a while, in silence, sipping their drinks. Once Mycroft’s cup was empty, he settled down for more sleep and waited for his partner—the words had a nice ring to them—to settle as well.

Greg drained his own mug and put it aside, then slid down under the duvet and rested his head on the pillows. Wrapped in the comfort, Greg dozed off again, but not before pushing back against the man behind him. Mycroft was warm and accepting, and comfortable, and wrapped an arm about Greg’s middle to pull him close. Greg fell asleep again almost immediately, exhaustion catching up with him again, lulled by the warmth and closeness.

Allowing Greg into his bed was a no-brainer as far as Mycroft was concerned, but it left him in the rather uncomfortable position of being pressed against the object of his desire, his cock nestled in the cleft of Greg's bum, the man’s warm solid body against the rest of him. For a moment Mycroft marvelled that his life had come to this, and then he too found himself drifting asleep, unable to resist now he was sharing his bed with the one person he had never expected to share it with.

“Gregory, you’re awake at last.” Mycroft stood in the doorway, bearing two more mugs of steaming tea balanced on a small tray. Fragrant steam spiralled up around his face as he stood there, looking dapper in a paisley silk dressing gown over his pajamas, and sheepskin slippers on his feet.

“They look warm,” Greg observed with a smile, his eyes on Mycroft’s feet. Mycroft followed his gaze and nodded.

“You would be correct. They were a Christmas present from my mother. My feet are long and thin. Never conducive to good circulation.” He crossed the room and placed a mug on the bedside cabinet level with Greg’s head. “I brought tea rather than coffee again. We seem to be living on the stuff, however, a stimulant seems the last thing you need.” Mycroft placed a mug on the bedside cabinet again, taking his own to his own side of the bed.

“Right now, I could go with a strong sedative. A medically induced coma for the rest of the week. That should see me right.”

Mycroft shuddered. “Please, Gregory, do not joke like that?”

“Ah, sorry, Myc. Too used to graveyard humour. I’m really sorry, didn’t mean to upset you.”

Mycroft sighed. “My apologies too. It’s not really upsetting, just...tasteless. However, It is not your fault if you seek refuge in humour, however dark.”

“It’s just what I’m used to, Myc, that’s all. It’s how you cope, you know?”

“Unfortunately, yes, I am familiar with high stress coping mechanisms. However, tea always seems to be a better alternative.” Mycroft smiled wryly. “It seemed to see us through the wars. Terribly British, but personally I do love an Earl Grey.”

“Yeah? Earl Grey is my preference too, although a good English Breakfast tea is nice. I am able to appreciate a properly brewed coffee though, I just don’t live on the stuff.”

“You like Earl Grey as well?” Mycroft said in a pleased tone.

“Yes, I do. Lovely fragrant cuppa that.”

“If you would like it, I can brew some to go with breakfast, which I shall of course make when you wish to rise. I am not assuming that will be soon, because you were very tired last night…”

“I’m okay, really. What time is it?”

“Barely 9.30am. Rest, Gregory. Take as long as you wish.” Mycroft paused. “Gregory…” He paused again, having difficulty in finding his voice on the matter he needed to discuss. “Last night...when I heard…noises, from your room…. You were...well, frankly, the only word I can muster is moaning, in your sleep, and I had no idea what to do.”

Greg took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair, distracted. “If it disturbs you, I can go home…”

“Nonsense, Gregory. There is no need to apologise. However, you should talk to someone. If not me, then someone who is trained in such matters. You need to unburden yourself of the trauma that has caused you to suffer nightmares, and if you do not then you risk PTSD surfacing later to haunt you. I should not have to tell you how that may affect your work. I...want you to know, Gregory, that over the last few weeks, your absence has clarified how much I feel for you, and I have come to the realisation that you...that I feel...well, very deeply for you. It would be remiss of me not to say anything, not to advise you to seek help.”

Greg stared, voiceless. Mycroft cared about him. That much had been evident in the constant updates on the rebel activities in his area, the texts concerned with how he was holding up, the small messages of encouragement every other day. Greg hadn't erased them off his phone yet, unable to bring himself to wipe the words that told him how Mycroft felt, how much he worried but would never admit, fearing to influence Greg's mind. He didn't want it to look as though he was interfering but he wanted Greg to know he cared. To hear him say as much though, to hear it from his own lips… Greg reached for him, grabbing his arm, tugging Mycroft close.

“Thank you, love,” he said softly, into the man’s neck. “I...it’s been a while since someone cared.”

“Of course I care, Gregory, otherwise I would never have suggested we enter into a relationship of any kind. Caring is...a prerequisite of being together. Will you talk to me? Can you?”

“I don’t...It’s just awful, Mycroft. I’ve seen terrible things. Kids ripped to bits by bombs, people dying on the table because there’s no blood. I...I even did a battlefield transfusion once, just because there was no other option.”

“What is that, exactly?”

“Not proper procedure, is what it is. It’s when you don’t screen the blood first, you hook a patient up to a live donor, and monitor the transfer of blood straight from that person’s veins.”

“Presumably of the same blood group.”

“Well, O negative can donate to pretty much anybody.”

“Did it save the patient?” A sigh was the only response. “Who was the donor?”

“I was.”

“Oh, I see. And the patient was a child?”

“Yes. I might not have done it otherwise. Got berated for it after. Ignored it though. I was...well, I’d have done the same again.”

“But the patient died?”

“Three days later.”

“I see. Not the best outcome.”

“Not the best, but unfortunately too common. We lost a few that week…I mean, who does that to kids, Mycroft? Babies crying because they’ve been sliced open by shrapnel. Mothers crying because their babies are dead, Fathers just staring across a room at a blank wall, in shock after losing their whole bloody family. There was a little boy...Christ...he was covered in dust and blood and he’s just sitting there. Turned out he’d lost four members of his family in one go. Poor little fucker just sat there, traumatised into silence.” Greg sniffed. “All I wanted to do was hug the little mite, and I wasn't allowed to. All I could think of was my girls…”

“We live in a comparatively safe country, Gregory. We have no civil war, no bombs dropping, not much in the way of terrorist activity, and certainly we can go out on our streets without too much fear of dodging bullets.”

“Yeah, but those little buggers have no choice.”

“I will do my utmost, Gregory, I promise you, if I have any leverage in the matter, I shall see what I can do to hasten the process of negotiation and peace. I cannot promise anything, but if I can, I will.”

“Oh, Mycroft, if you could…” Tears welled, threatening to spill over. “Anything you can do would be amazing…” Greg sniffed. “Sorry…”

“Please, Gregory, I told you not to apologise. There is no need. You are a caring compassionate man who feels for his patients, and that is commendable. Do not apologise to me, you have no earthly need to do so.” Greg nodded, and sniffed again, and wordlessly, Mycroft passed him a handkerchief. He blew his nose noisily, and cleared his throat. “Continue to tell me what it was like, if you are able,” Mycroft instructed. “Were there any good outcomes?”

“Actually yes, we saved a huge number of people, but...it’s the ones you don’t save who you remember, I guess. The ones who die are the ones you failed…”

“I do not believe that for a moment,” Mycroft scoffed. “You tried as hard with every one of them, did you not?” “Yes, of course.”

“So, you cannot say you failed them. You gave them a chance they would not otherwise have had. If they succumbed to their injuries, then it was none of your doing. You worked to save them.”

“But we couldn’t do enough!”

“Au contraire, Gregory. Sometimes, you are unable to effect the amount of care needed to allow a person to overcome the shock and trauma. That is not your fault. You are merely constrained by time, your resources and your patient’s condition. I know I am not a doctor, but I do know that much. To an outsider, Gregory, you work wonders, and you should not berate yourself for not being able to work miracles.”

“Thanks, Mycroft, that means a lot.” A watery smile was directed his way.

Mycroft smiled encouragingly.“Nothing more than you deserve,” he said gently. “What you don't deserve is to castigate yourself unnecessarily. You have no need to apologise to me, especially for anything not under your control. Allow me to help, to support you, or what use am I to you? What possible use will I be as your partner if I cannot do that?” Mycroft paused, watching the emotions chase across Greg's face, then the man leant swiftly in and placed a firm kiss on Mycroft's lips. Greg drew back quickly in case he had misjudged the situation, but Mycroft was smiling, albeit a little startled. In answer, he leaned toward Greg and returned the kiss, leaving the man in no doubt that this was right, for both of them. Deep brown eyes regarded him from mere inches away, and Mycroft felt himself falling, hard. Hands reached for him, slid around his back, pulled him close. He responded in kind, snuggling closer, burying his face in Gregory’s neck, inhaling his scent again, only this time much stronger. They sat like that for a while, curled towards each other in the bed, eventually shifting around to get more comfortable and settling down still entwined in each other’s grasp. Tea forgotten, both men were content to simply lie there, close and warm.

“The worst bit about it,” Greg murmured, “was that I was away from you…”

“Beg pardon?” Mycroft realised that this brain had nearly turned off and struggled to reboot it. Gregory was opening up to him. Listen, dammit.

“I was away from you,” Greg repeated softly. “I know we don't know each other well, but…we seemed to be on the brink of something, and then I was off and away, and for all I knew, distance wouldn't make your heart grow fonder, and there'd be nothing when I got back, that you'd decide it was too much bother….” Mycroft placed a gentle finger on Greg's lips to still the rising verbal tide.

“Shh,” he murmured, softly. “Be calm, Gregory. That is most definitely not the case, as you can see. We are together now so you can rest easy, and with regard to our future together, we shall see what we shall see.” The brown eyes regarding him crinkled at the corners.

“Que sera, sera, hm?”

“Most assuredly, Gregory. Now rest, please. I am concerned for your continued good health.”

Greg snuffed a laugh and settled lower against the pillows. “Yes, sir,” he said, closing his eyes.

“Right answer, Gregory,” Mycroft murmured and followed suit.

***

Chapter 2: Meet The Parents

“Good afternoon, Gregory. How are you feeling now?”

“Uhnff,” Greg replied, his voice muffled, peeking out of the covers at a rather happy Mycroft who was standing by the bed, tray in hand. “What time is it?”

“Sometime after two.”

“PM?”

“Yes, Gregory, two PM,” Mycroft confirmed. “I brought you breakfast in bed.”

“Uh, really?” A slow smile spread across Greg’s face, and he struggled to sit up, shoving pillows behind him and straightening the covers before Mycroft presented him with the tray. “This is lovely of you, but isn’t it afternoon?”

“I believe the local cafe would refer to this as an ‘all-day breakfast’,” Mycroft replied with a smile. “Consider it lunch if you wish, but the fact remains that you still need looking after, Gregory. We established that last night, or maybe this morning, depending on your viewpoint. Your care of me has always been thoughtful, and I merely seek to return the favour.”

Greg picked up the knife and fork and tucked in. The cup of tea was perfect, the toast crisp, the bacon, beans and sausages all done to perfection. “You not having any?” he asked as Mycroft continued to sit on the bed and sip his own tea while Greg ate.

“I have already eaten,” Mycroft explained. “Gregory...I have been thinking. Would you consider coming away with me?”

“Away with you where?”

“Just...away. Somewhere not here.”

Greg laughed. “That’s what away usually means. What exactly did you have in mind?”

“I...was thinking about approaching mummy and father, they always nag me to come home to visit…”

“You want to introduce me to your parents? Already?”

“Well…” Mycroft looked oddly troubled.

“They don’t know about me yet, do they?”

“No, they do not. We have only just begun, Gregory. Our relationship is embryonic, to say the least. When on earth would I have had time to tell them, after all?”

“Point.”

“Would you be amenable?”

“Is this you trying to book us a cheap holiday, or is it fulfilling some need in you?” Greg asked plainly, fixing Mycroft with a look.

Mycroft wasn’t sure if Gregory was joking or not. His eyes said he wasn’t being altogether serious but he wasn’t exactly joking either. “In truth...I don’t know. I...want you in my life, Gregory. That includes my parents being acquainted with you. However, I cannot pretend that such a situation does not bother me. I was with Victor for six years. In that time, Mummy grew to love him. Both she and father thought of him as a son. They were both devastated when he died and I do not want any potential reaction of theirs to put you off…”

“You think they might object?” Greg scrutinised Mycroft carefully. “If you’re not sure about yours, you could come meet mine...Well, my mum anyway. You already know dad.”

“Yes, I do, don’t I?” This was said with a certain amount of snark and Greg grinned shamelessly.

“Sorry, Myc. Look, if you want to take me home, then I don’t mind. Honestly.”

“But if you think it is too early…”

“Look, Mycroft, we’re friends. Surely you can bring a friend home without any problems?”

“Supposedly. I could introduce you as my friend, but honestly, Mummy will most likely see through it. She may well ask your intentions toward me. I feel bad exposing you to this so soon. I simply want you to have some time away. Somewhere you can relax and be cared for. This was a bad idea…”

“Mycroft, I don’t mind. Sooner rather than later, yeah?”

“Not unless you are sure. I would rather not have you stressed by the encounter…”

“Mycroft, I’ve said yes. It’ll be fine. Where do your parents live anyway?”

“Not too far away. Near Epping Forest. Look, if you agree to this… well, please feel free to tell my mother to bugger off if her questions prove too personal…”

“Mycroft! I cannot tell your mum to bugger off, ever.”

“I do not see why not, if she insults you by demanding to know if your intentions are honourable.”

“Mycroft, it’s friendly curiosity, not the third degree. That’s what mums are like. Mine is the same…”

“I beg to differ. You have not met my mother. I very much doubt she is from the same mould as any other mother on earth.”

Greg sighed and smiled encouragingly. “Come on, Mycroft, at least we can get this over with now, rather than later. When do you want to leave?”

They drove up later that same evening, following an impromptu call home, and despite Mycroft having to endure his mother’s questioning over the phone. He merely told her he had a friend who needed some time to rest after an arduous time abroad. She had not pressed the point and he had left it at that, sure she would grill Gregory when they arrived. They both threw some clothes into overnight bags, secured the house, and set off through the rush hour traffic of a London evening.

The traffic put them late, but they arrived eventually, and Mycroft parked the car on the drive in front of a lovely stone 'cottage' surrounded by trees. Greg got out, flexed his shoulders and gazed around him, smiling. He breathed deep, the soft scents of a country evening filling his nose. “This is lovely, Mycroft,” he said appreciatively. “What a place.” His gaze roamed over the warm stone, the roses around the door, the door itself; old and heavy and bracketed with forged iron hinges. The place looked old, had obviously been around for centuries and was set to stay that way for centuries to come.

“They bought this dower house when they retired. They sold the old place, it was far too big, and moved here. They’ve been happy here I think. It suits their needs.”

“Oo, roses,” Greg commented cheerfully, reaching to gently cup a velvety red rose in his palm. “Love those.” He inhaled the soothing scent and smiled contentedly.

“The garden is my mother’s pride and joy...Speak of the Devil,” Mycroft added as the door opened and a smallish woman appeared, her short white hair a cap on her head, her lined face soft-skinned but tanned, and grey eyes undimmed with age. They bored into Greg before passing to her son and she left the sanctuary of the cottage and marched down the garden path with intent. She was, Greg thought, a strikingly beautiful woman even in old age.

“Mycroft, at last. Where were you, I thought you must have had an accident!”

“Traffic, mummy. We did leave London rather later than intended. Now don’t pester Gregory, please. He is rather fatigued and would probably like nothing better than to rest.” Her eyes shifted from her wayward son to his guest again, looking Greg up and down, assessingly. Greg offered a beaming smile, although it was tinged with weariness.

“Mr Lestrade,” she offered warmly, her attitude changing abruptly. “Welcome to our humble abode.”

Greg nodded. “Thank you, Mrs Holmes. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He reached to grasp the lady’s hand gently in greeting. “I gather you had a pleasant time away?”

“Yes, thank you, we did, but our silly boys did not let us know the whole truth.” She glared at Mycroft, but did not elaborate. Greg could only assume she was talking about their health.

“Mummy,” Mycroft’s voice was pained. “You would have cancelled your trip and you know how much you were looking forward to it. Gordon and Brenda have been pestering you for years.”

“My sons’ health comes before some silly trip,” she snapped. “However, I gather thanks are in order,” she said to Greg. “You did wonders for both my boys and I am truly grateful even if they make me seem to be an uncaring harriden who puts my own pleasure before their wellbeing.”

Greg smiled, he couldn’t help himself. This was where both Holmes boys obviously got their stubbornness. A tall man appeared at the door. “Helen, dear,” he said. “Oh, there you are.” He ambled down the path toward them and came to a stop, placing his hands on his wife’s shoulders, for this was obviously Mycroft’s father. Mycroft had inherited the man’s features, including that prominent Holmes nose.

“Archie, dear, this is Gregory Lestrade, the consultant who saved our boys.”

“Very pleased to meet you,” Archie said, thrusting out a hand and shaking Greg’s warmly. “I hope Helen has told you, we did not abandon our boys in their hour of need and we appreciate your care of them both.”

“I understand, sir,” Greg replied. “Sometimes one’s children can be...inventive with the truth?

“You have children, Mr Lestrade?”

“Yes, I do. Twin daughters.”

“Oh, how lovely,” Helen said. “How old are they now?”

“Seventeen going on seventy.” Helen chuckled, knowingly.

“Father, mummy, could we?” Mycroft indicated going inside. “Gregory would doubtless like to rest before dinner.”

“Of course, Mikey, don’t fret. I was merely anxious to finally see you, considering you said you would be here an hour ago. Come along, let us go in. May I offer you tea, Mr Lestrade? Or something stronger?”

“Tea will be fine, thank you, and it’s Greg, Mrs Holmes.”

“Helen, please. Archie, would you do the honours?” She made gentle shooing motions to get them all moving.

When they stepped inside, a large farmhouse kitchen greeted them, a cream enamel Aga heating the place efficiently, a huge oak table dominating the room. Mycroft dumped their bags in the hall, and guided Greg into the kitchen, offering him the windsor chair at the head of the table. Greg sat carefully, finding it unexpectedly comfortable. Mycroft sat himself nearby while Archie switched on the kettle and Mycroft’s mother busied herself finding the china.

“So, Greg, Mycroft tells me you’ve been abroad recently.”

“Yes. I volunteer my time every year with MSF.”

“MSF?”

“Sorry. Medecin sans Frontieres. We take emergency aid into various parts of the world, getting medical help to those who need it.”

“Oh, them. Of course I know what they do. Laudable use of your time and skills, Greg, but how on earth do you find the time?”

“He gives up his holiday time, quite generously,” Mycroft explained defensively. He was desperate for his mother not to think Gregory was shirking his own work. She shot him a look, but Mycroft did not see the curiosity in her eyes.

“So you’ve just returned?” Helen enquired gently. Mycroft traded a warning glance with her but it was ignored.

“Yes, we were in The Yemen.”

“Heavens above. That’s a war zone. What, Mycroft? I do watch the news occasionally.”

“Some parts are quite dangerous,” Greg agreed. “I was lucky we were in a safer area.” It was Mycroft’s turn to scoff. “Well it was,” Greg added, defensively.

“Only through my intervention…”

“You kept us updated but you couldn’t influence where those bastards would strike next...Sorry, I am so sorry.” Greg blushed at his involuntary outburst. Helen was watching the exchange carefully, but she made no comment other than to reassure him.

“That is quite alright,” she said. “I understand it cannot have been easy.”

“Well, Mycroft actually did quite a lot to make sure I and my colleagues were safe and well while we were there.”

“Mummy, Gregory is here to rest, not answer twenty questions,” Mycroft said testily. His mother ignored him again.

“So, Greg, you are a consultant at our Mycroft’s hospital?”

“Yes, I am. Head of Cardiology. Been there nearly nineteen years.”

“Nineteen?”

“Yup.”

“How long have you been there now, Mycroft, dear?”

“Just over a year. I was...asked to go, as you know,” Mycroft said.

“Yes, so you said. Mycroft told us he had been requested to take a seat on the Hospital Board by Her Majesty, no less.”

“Well, yes,” Greg said, responding to the slight note of disbelief in Helen’s voice. “My father confirmed that.”

“Your father?” Helen frowned.

“Well, stepfather really.”

“Gregory’s father is Equerry to Her Majesty, mummy.”

“I beg your pardon?” Helen’s eyebrows nearly reached her hairline. “Equerry? To Elizabeth?”

“Yes, Mummy.” Mycroft turned to Greg and smiled. “It was...quite ironic when we found out our mutual connection.”

The kettle whistled and Archie made them all tea. They sat around the table to drink it, and Greg was struck by the resemblances between Mycroft and his parents, and not just the obvious physical ones. His mannerisms were his father’s, with a smattering of his mother’s expressions.

“Are you quite alright, Gregory?” Mycroft murmured.

“Fine, thanks.”

“If you require your bed, do please say so?”

Greg smiled. “I’ll tell you,” he reassured. He caught Mummy Holmes watching them again and smiled, disarmingly. She smiled back, unabashed.

After an agreeable evening meal, Mycroft and Greg took a turn around the quiet garden, breathing in the scents of the outdoors and allowing the stresses drain away. Greg sought Mycroft’s hand and entwined their fingers. “You okay, love?”

“I am fine,” Mycroft sounded far from it.

“Mycroft, please, be honest,” Greg almost snapped. Mycroft sighed heavily. “I am wondering if this was a colossal mistake?” he said warily.

“How so?”

“Mummy. She’s definitely giving you the third degree.”

“I’m fine. Honestly, I’m not distressed.”

“That is a miracle,” Mycroft commented, stiffly.

“Yeah, well, she’s curious, and concerned, and she’s your mum. She wants to reassure herself that I’m not after your virtue…”

“Aren’t you? What a pity.”

“Never said I wasn’t, I just need to reassure your parents I’m the honourable sort…”

“You? You’re a rogue, Gregory Lestrade, through and through.”

“The rogue who saved your life.”

“Holding that over me now, hm?”

“Well I can say I’ve seen bits of you nobody else has.”

Mycroft chuckled. “You…” he stopped, turning away.

“Myc, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I...I was thinking, that’s all. Remembering.”

“Victor?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me about him?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I want to know about the man who captured Mycroft Holmes’ heart.”

Mycroft swallowed, turned to face Greg, and said thickly, “He’s standing right here in front of me.”

Greg’s eyebrows lifted. “Seriously?”

There were unshed tears in Mycroft’s eyes as he regarded Greg, their fingers loosely entwined. Mycroft gave a watery chuckle and sniffed. “I feel as if I am betraying him somewhat, although I know he would have liked you, but I cannot live in an ivory tower, celibate and untouched. With Victor...I came alive, somehow. He and I were….best friends, confidants, lovers. We trusted the other implicitly. When he died, so did I. I have never felt such pain…” He felt the fingers in his tighten. “When he died, I lost a part of myself. I am not sure I have regained it yet. I am not sure I ever will. I do not understand how I could be of interest to you, Gregory, because I cannot give you my whole self, not now part of it has been torn away.”

“You are the person you are because of him, you know? Same way I am the person I am because of my ex-wife and my girls. You become something more, something different, something better. People add to you, and when they go, when that disappears, you change again. It’s less losing something and more...morphing into something else, like a caterpillar becomes a butterfly. Sometimes you become something that isn’t particularly nice, because of your pain, but sometimes, love can bring you back again, can change you again. You’ll never forget him, no more should you, but hopefully, I can numb that pain for you a little… I’m a doctor, I’m good at that kind of thing. Hope I can help you live again.”

“Well, your care of my heart has been exemplary. You have kept it safe thus far.”

“So you keep saying. I might believe you one day.”

They walked back to the house across the darkened garden, each in his own thoughts.

Mycroft was pleased that mummy had given Greg a guest room. After all, it would have been majorly obvious had Mycroft declared Greg to be sharing his room. Maybe that was too soon. Greg was also fine with sleeping alone, just for now. He recognised Mycroft’s need to take things slowly with his parents and didn’t object to this enforced separation. Hell, they hadn’t even been together long enough for it to register as such. The room had an ensuite so he showered, got ready for bed, and was about to climb in when he heard the soft knock on his door.

“Yes?”

“Gregory?”

Greg opened the door to see Mycroft, in his striped pajamas and silk dressing gown, standing on the threshold looking uncertain. “Mycroft, what’s matter?”

“Nothing, Gregory. I was merely wishing to say goodnight and hope you are...alright after...you know?”

“I’m fine. Come in, you daft berk.” He dragged Mycroft inside and closed the door. “Come here you,” he said, and pressed their lips together. He felt Mycroft tense, and then relax and felt it as his kiss was returned. When they broke apart, Greg smiled into those gorgeous blue eyes. They were standing so close he could see the flecks of grey in the blue. Currently, those eyes were looking back at him somewhat uncertainly. “Hey, everything is fine,” he said gently. “Things will be okay with your mum.”

“I hope so. I am terrified they take a dislike to you, or think this is too soon…”

“It’s your choice, Mycroft, not theirs, although I appreciate you don’t want a rift. I like your parents, you know. Case you’re interested.”

“I am glad you do,” Mycroft admitted.

“Come on, go to bed. No sense you risking being caught in my bedroom…” He giggled. “I feel like a naughty teenager, not middle aged man with his partner.”

“Am I? Truly?”

“What, my partner? Of course you are, Mycroft. You and me, together. Us against the world, you know?”

“I feel wrong, going to my bed, alone, leaving you here.”

“It’s okay, love. It’ll be fine. You’ll see. Now go, or my resolve not to drag you into my bed will dissolve…” He swatted Mycroft’s behind and chuckled at the pout. He listened at the door, then opened it, swiftly checking the corridor outside. “Coast is clear, now get gone.” Reluctantly, Mycroft left, stealing a last quick peck on the lips before he vanished to his own room.

“I’m glad for Mycroft,” Helen said, getting into bed. Beside her, Archie put his book down on his knees and regarded his wife of forty three years contemplatively.

“It’s nice he has a friend,” he agreed.

“Archie, Greg is more than a friend, or I, as they say, am a Dutchman.”

“You think so, hm?”

“Have you seen how they are together? Like they’ve been together for years. Something more comfortable than mere friendship, I think.”

“If you say so.” Archie thought for a moment. “If you’re right, you don’t think he’s rushing into this, do you?”

“It’s been two years, Archie. Did you honestly expect him to remain celibate for the rest of his natural?”

“Not at all, I’m merely concerned for his well being. He was devastated when Victor died, after all.”

“We all were, and that’s the problem. I think he doesn’t want to upset us, you know.”

“Upset us?”

“Yes. He knew what Victor meant to us, Archie. It’s obvious to a blind man that our little Mycroft has deep feelings for Greg. However, he was at pains to make me believe there is nothing but friendship between them. Now either that’s because those feelings are not reciprocated and he’s on a hiding to nothing…”

“Well, he is Mycroft’s doctor, after all. A little unethical to carry on a relationship with a patient…”

“Pish. I think Greg is a bit more intelligent than that,” Helen observed. “However, always good to make sure. No, if those feelings are reciprocated, then Mycroft does not want us to know, probably because he knows how we felt about Victor…”

“Do you honestly suppose Mycroft is planning on keeping Greg secret forever?”

“Doubtful. Greg’s own integrity will stop him doing that.”

“So…”

“So, either we let things lie, and allow them to have a restful holiday, but leave them separated by a partition wall, or we tell him we know, and allow them to spend their nights together properly.”

“Well, if it were me, you’d not keep me away long.”

Helen chuckled. “My knight in shining armour,” she smiled. “Alright then, a little motherly intervention is called for. Tomorrow,” she said, burrowing into her husband’s arms. “If they are one tenth as happy as you have made me, then they will be blessed.”

Archie kissed his wife and smiled back. “You are a schemer, Helen Victoria Holmes.”

“I am a mover and shaker, Steven Farraday Archibald, and don’t you forget it…”

***

Chapter 3: Parental Concern

After Mycroft left, Greg found he couldn't sleep. He was tired, but somehow sleep would not come. He tossed and turned but despite the bed's comfort, he found no rest. A tentative knock on the door brought him out of a fitful doze. Levering himself reluctantly out from the warmth and comfort he went to see who it was. Mycroft was standing on the other side of the door, glancing furtively down the landing.

“Mycroft?”

“Gregory...er...may I enter?” he whispered.

“Of course. You okay?”

Mycroft waited for the door to be shut before replying in a forceful undertone as if scared he may be heard. “I am not okay, Gregory. This is intolerable.”

“What’s the matter?”

“What’s the…? Gregory, we are separated, by little more than a single layer of brick, and I cannot conceive of suffering this for a whole week…I cannot sleep...”

Greg sighed. “Me too actually. However, you know the answer…”

“Gregory, you already know that I do not want to cause them undue pain…”

“Mycroft, you are going to tell them sometime, aren’t you?” Greg did not like the pause that followed his question. “Mycroft? Please tell me you don’t intend to keep me secret forever…”

“No, of course not...but....”

“But?”

“Gregory, I have no idea what to do. If I tell them, I risk hurting them. If I don’t, I risk hurting you. I am damned if I do and damned if I don’t…Help me, please?”

“Tell them tomorrow. Get it over with…”

“I...I can’t! I just can't.”

“Come here,” Greg said, drawing a reluctant Mycroft into his arms. “I understand this is...difficult for you. I did say this goes at your pace, not mine. Didn’t I?” Mycroft nodded into his shoulder. “So, as long as you tell them sometime, I can live with us being secret for a while.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’m sure.”

“May I stay here with you for a while?”

“What, now?”

“Yes, I… I have no idea how I am going to survive a week in a separate bed.”

“Okay, look, let me set my watch for...let’s say 5am, and you can escape before your parents find out.”

Mycroft sighed heavily. “I suppose…”

“Myc, it won’t be forever. I cannot believe your parents wouldn’t be happy for you, you know? They’re good folks.”

“You do not know them….”

00000000000

“Archie,” Helen hissed in her husband’s ear.

“Wha…? Umph?”

“Oh, Archie, wake up!” Helen lay with her good ear cocked, listening.

“What, my dear? Do we have burglars?”

“Don’t be silly. Burglars wouldn't make it past our defenses. After all, it was Mycroft who had them installed.”

“I suppose you’re right. So…”

“So, I hear movement. I think our little Mycroft is having an assignation…”

“Assignation? You make it sound very 007, dear. How do you know he isn’t visiting the toilet?”

“Because he has left his room, and his room has an ensuite? Honestly, Archie, sometimes I wonder about you.” She giggled. “However, I definitely think Greg is playing 007 to Mycroft’s M, don’t you?”

Archie smiled, despite his rude awakening. “I think, under the circumstances, we had best make sure things are….above board?”

“In what way?”

“I shall quiz the good doctor tomorrow, while you tackle our little lad. Make sure things are...out in the open, if you understand me.”

“I do indeed, Archie. Capital idea. Take things gently though. I cannot imagine Mycroft would thank us for interfering.”

000000000000

The insistent beeping going off in Greg’s ear prompted him to nudge his lover in the ribs to wake him. “Hey, beautiful? It’s time…”

“Time?”

“Yeah, time to get back to your room…”

“Oh…” Mycroft stretched, like a cat. “I regret this…”

“Why?”

“Maybe we should just tell them. Get it over with.”

“Well, your decision, pet. You tell me, I shall support you, you should know that.”

“I do, Gregory, thank you.” Mycroft rolled out of bed and grabbed his dressing gown. “I suppose it’s too early for tea?”

“I could do with a couple more hours sleep to be honest. I am on holiday after all.”

Mycroft smiled and leaned in for a kiss. “Of course, my love. Sleep all you wish, but I think I will go to the kitchen and make tea. I shall bid you good morning, my dear, and I shall see you later.” They kissed again and Greg watched Mycroft leave, then snuggled down into the extreme comfort of the guest bed and dozed off without a problem.

00000000000

Helen intercepted her son and his...friend, as they came down to the kitchen, handing out cups of tea and shooing Greg into the living room to find a more comfortable seat. The man was obviously tired but he looked happy. One glance at Mycroft told her he had obviously slept well too. Smiling, she stopped him following Greg and pushed him to sit at the table. She took a seat opposite and regarded him with a serious expression across the big kitchen table. “Mycroft,” she began, her tone firm. He looked up, startled. “No need to look like that, dear. You remind me of the time I caught you and your brother scrumping apples from our neighbour.”

“Mummy, I…”

“Shush, Mycroft, just listen to your mother. Please do not treat me like an idiot.”

“I wasn’t aware that I was…”

“You know to what I am referring, Mycroft. I am not a fool, nor am I an old fuddy duddy, so take heed. You and Gregory...Are you two in a relationship?”

“Mummy, really, I… Gregory and I are...merely friends....”

“Mycroft, stop, please. There is no need to protect him from us you know?”

“I am not protecting anyone…”

“Yes, you are. Mycroft, I want you to know that I am pleased. We both are. I understand if you are worried about how your father and I might view it, considering Trevor, but...well, honestly, we never expected you to stay single the rest of your life…”

“Mummy…I…” Mycroft paused, uncertain. He hadn’t expected his mother would have seen through their deception so quickly.

“Gregory is a lovely man. My only misgiving is that he is your doctor. I shouldn't have to tell you how unethical that is…”

“He is not my doctor!” Mycroft said quickly. “Not since…” Aware that he was giving their secret away, he sighed. “Mummy, he handed my case over to one of his team, before he left to go abroad. He has only just got back and seriously, we did not decide on anything until two days ago. So, please, this is...early days. Very early days…”

“I knew it,” she said, happily. “Oh, Mycroft, no matter what happens, you must understand that your father and I support you. Victor was lovely, but Gregory is….well, you have picked a good one there. The way he looks at you…” She sighed, misty eyed.

“The way he looks at me?”

“Yes, darling. Like you are his world. He may not realise he’s doing it, but it’s there. It reminded me of how your father looks at me sometimes.”

“I see.”

“Oh, darling, come along. Victor would have liked him, you know,” she said softly.

“Yes, I believe so too.” Mycroft and his mother shared a look then, one of complete understanding.

000000000000

“Good morning, Gregory...” Archie greeted him as Greg entered the living room. He peered over his newspaper and smiled kindly.

"Good morning, sir," he replied. “Just Greg will do though.” He sat down on one of the large comfortable chintzy sofas and leaned back in his seat with a sigh of contentment. Helen had furnished him with a cup of tea and shooed him through to the living room, ostensibly to find somewhere more comfortable to relax other than a stiff backed kitchen chair. He was vaguely surprised when Mycroft didn't immediately follow him but it was highly likely Helen had intercepted him to chat.

“You must call me Archie, please, dear boy. Glad to see you’re relaxing. Mycroft says you’ve had a stressful time.”

“A little…”

"Commendable work, however."

"Thank you, Archie."

“So, you and Mycroft, hm?”

“Pardon, si...Archie?”

Archie levered himself out of his chair and headed to a cabinet by the fire place. “Drink?” he offered.

“Oh, er… thanks...what have you got?”

“A passable sherry, Lagavulin, Talisker Skye, Brandy, port… pimms…”

“It's a bit early for whisky. Sherry would be good.”

“A sherry it is then. So... yes, you and Mycroft.”

“Er...there is no me and Mycroft…”

“Come now, no need to be coy, my lad.”

“Coy?” Greg grinned, goodnaturedly. “I think I might have problems with coy, Archie. Not my style at all.”

“Well, what would you call it?" Archie inquired, equally goodnatured. "You obviously have feelings for the lad.”

“Well, yes, I do. We’re good friends....”

“Look, son,” Archie said kindly, passing Greg his drink, “I know you are probably protecting Mycroft’s position in all this, but there is no need, you know. If you and he are… together, well, we’re happy for you both. I know he worries about how we might feel. Doubtless he’s told you all about Victor.”

“Yes, he has. Sounds like a lovely man.”

“He was, yes. We all felt a great deal for him and it was a huge blow when he died. Mycroft took it particularly hard.”

“I know he did. It’s hard when you lose someone like that so suddenly.”

“Mycroft has always been the softer one of the two. Look, son, my only concern is that you are the doctor who performed his surgery…”

“Let me stop you there,” Greg said firmly. “Before you jump to conclusions, I am no longer his doctor.”

“You aren’t?”

“No. I passed his casefile to one of my team before I shipped out to the Yemen. She’s perfectly competent, you’ve no need to worry on that score…”

Archie smiled. “That’s good, sensible. So… you and Mycroft are obviously more than friends then.”

“Archie...Look, I don’t want to be rude but...until I’ve spoken to Mycroft, I can’t say more. I...it would put us both in a difficult position, and I have no reason to do that.”

“I understand, but you must understand this. Our son’s happiness is of paramount importance, and if you make him happy, then neither I nor Helen will stand between you. Victor meant the world to us, but Mycroft means more. Make him happy, Greg. He deserves someone in his life.”

Greg sighed. “If he’ll let me, I will. You have my word on that.”

“Here’s to you both, Greg.” They clinked glasses.

00000000000

“She knows!”

“He knows…” Greg and Mycroft stopped and stared at each other, their words colliding in the air and bringing them both to a standstill.

“So they both know,” Mycroft said.

“Come on, Myc. If one knew then it’s a fair bet they both would. They talk to each other, after all.”

Mycroft sighed. “How was father?”

“Very supportive. And before you say it, I admitted nothing, he just assumed. I told him I couldn’t say more until I talked to you, but I told him I was no longer your doctor. That was all that seemed to concern him.”

“I am afraid I was...well, I couldn’t lie to her. I told mummy that too, that you had passed my case to one of your colleagues.”

“Your father was concerned that I make you happy.”

“Then he will not be disappointed.”

“Do I though?”

“You have so far.”

“Well, where do we go from here?”

“I think...it might be a good time to properly confess to them, apologise for...well, for not telling them.”

“Okay, no time like the present then.”

00000000000

“Mummy, father,” Mycroft announced, walking into the kitchen hand in hand with Greg. “We have something we should tell you both.”

“Shall I put the kettle on?” Archie got up and went to the sink to fill the kettle. “Tea?”

“Please,” Greg said.

“Father...please, we are trying to say something here.”

“And you can say it while he works,” Helen said with a grin. “What is the matter, boys?”

“We are...that is to say, Gregory and I are...well...I know you already know but... we are together. Dating. Stepping out. Boyfriends…Although I find that word detestable and it goes no distance to describe what we are to each other. We both felt that after our respective conversations with the two of you, we should present ourselves to you together…to formally declare our intent, as it were."

"And apologize," Greg offered. "I know it was a bit off that we kept it to ourselves but...well, we hope you understand why."

Helen clapped her hands in delight. “There is no need to apologize, either of you. This is wonderful news, and thank you for telling us properly.” She got up and closed the distance, taking Greg in a proper hug. “I am so happy for you both. Now you can stop that stupid charade and share a room. How on earth you expected to survive being separated for a whole week, I don’t know.”

Mycroft blushed and stammered, but Greg pulled him into a hug and chuckled.

“Thank you, Helen. I promise I’ll look after him.”

“Gregory…” Mycroft protested weakly, but Greg only grinned wider and held him closer.

000000000000

Lying in Mycroft’s bed that night, Greg grinned happily as he lay with his head on his lover’s shoulder. No words needed to be spoken, both men were content just to feel each other’s heart beating. Mycroft trailed his fingers through the hair at the nape of Greg’s neck, while Greg nuzzled against Mycroft’s chest, inhaling his warm scent. However long we have, Greg thought, it will never be enough, but he was glad they had got to this point. More was awaiting them, and they would travel that road together. He sighed softly, feeling the fingers at his neck stroke gentle circles, soothing him to sleep. He knew he would have to tell his daughters sometime soon too, but honestly, he had few qualms about that. He smiled contentedly, and drifted gently to sleep.

***

Next story in series - Days Like These Lead to Nights Like This.

• Main Sherlock Holmes Slash page
• The new stories
• Holmes/Watson stories
• Other m/m pairings & threesomes
• Gen stories