Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Snow was beginning to fall when Mycroft got home. The warmth of the house was a welcome relief. He slipped his outer layers and shoes off and put everything neatly away in the coat closet. Picking up his briefcase again, Mycroft made his way up the stairs to his office.

A faint buzz of the electric mixer could be heard over the Christmas music softly playing. This made Mycroft pause on the first step and breathe in deeply. Scents of cinnamon, ginger and vanilla wafted through the air. It seemed Greg was making a start on his Christmas baking.

Mycroft loved and hated this. On one hand Greg’s baking was one of the best things he’d ever eaten. On the other was his diet which these sweet treats always ruined. And there was also the fact that he was a bit of a Grinch. Mycroft had never liked Christmas time much, which was the complete opposite to Greg.

Leaving the briefcase at the bottom of the stairs, Mycroft went to the kitchen. There in the mist of all sorts of ingredients and baking trays covering every surface was his partner. He watched from the doorway as Greg sashaying around. Joy was clearly radiating from him as he hummed with the current song.

Unlike every other time he baked, Greg wasn’t in his usual apron. His usual being a red and green patchwork thing covered in pictures of candy canes Mycroft had gifted him for one of their first Christmases together. Greg’s grin grew wide as he spied Mycroft.

“Welcome home, love!” greeted Greg as he went over for a kiss.

“My shirt is not an apron,” Mycroft sighed, his hands resting on Greg’s hips.

“‘Tis too cold to just be wearing that…”

Ahh, yes. Mycroft knew Greg loved baking practically naked. He didn’t know exactly why, but Mycroft did enjoy watching Greg do so. (A naked Greg was always good in his opinion.) Mycroft moved his hands down and under the shirt. He pulled Greg closer, his hands grabbing his arse.

“At least save my shirt from being ruined by any spills you have and wear the apron over it.”

Greg just grinned and grabbed Mycroft’s face, moving to kiss him again. He ground up against Mycroft.

“We’ve got a little while whilst things bake. Why don’t we warm up more elsewhere? Then you can redress me in more appropriate bake wear…” he said suggestively, moving to kiss along Mycroft’s jaw. He took some time to nip at the spot that always made Mycroft weak at the knees.

Mycroft closed his eyes and groaned softly, “Careful… We might not make it elsewhere…” He swore Greg muttered good as he continued his ministrations. “What about your baking!”

“Is in the oven well away from this and will be eaten just by us. I’ll do the baking for everyone else another day.”

With that Mycroft gave as good as he got, enjoying the moans Greg gave as he was backed into a bench. He sank to his knees in front of him. Greg swore as he carded a hand through Mycroft’s hair, his other hand holding the shirt up and out of the way.

The new song which had started to play was soon drowned out. Mycroft much happier to listen to the noises Greg made instead.

Chapter Text

Life has been a whirlwind lately for Greg. Well, when hadn’t it been? Especially with Sherlock in his life. Technically back in his life that is, with the whole being dead thing being a ruse. Usually Greg wouldn’t complain about his life being so busy. But…

But Greg was exhausted. He was absolutely shattered.

Yes, his divorce was done and dusted. His ex had finally finished dragging her heels over every last detail. And yes, it was easier to get upper management to allow Sherlock’s help on cases now days. Plus, Sherlock and everyone at work were surprisingly getting along. It just seemed to Greg that he was constantly looking over his shoulder, waiting for the next chaotic mess to happen. He was living, but also not at the same time.

Molly had suggested potentially taking some time off work, as well as talk to a professional when he’d finally admitted to her he wasn’t doing ok. But Greg just wanted -needed- to do something simple to start off with. So she suggested taking a walk on his lunch breaks or after work. That was potentially doable Greg decided.

More often than not he found himself walking along the towpath next to a canal, admiring the narrow boats moored along it. Adventures from long ago came to mind every time he went. Many holidays growing up had been spent with his Gramps cruising on the cut.

It’d been a good, much simpler time. Narrow boating was slow, so peaceful. Very different to his current norm. It’d be a nice change if he could do it again… Maybe Greg could actually take more of Molly’s advice. He did have a bunch of holidays and long service leave saved up…

Or maybe Greg could buy one, much like his teenage self had wanted too. He’d be able to make it his, take it out for longer, have more possibilities of where to go. But that would also mean he’d need to restructure his life to have a better work life balance… Which he needed anyway regardless of having a new boat or not.

Greg’s mind was just a little too full. He needed to step back. Remember to breathe, to do one thing at a time. He could organise a holiday. Yeah, he definitely could do that. And maybe one day when he wasn’t feeling so overwhelmed, Greg could turn his thoughts to other grander things.

He continued to walk, until a familiar deep blue boat with bright blue accents appeared. ‘All I Need’ was painted in big bold lettering on the side. This boat was in very good condition for its age, if it was indeed the same one Greg and his Grandfather had been on long ago. It definitely could be as it had a semi-trad stern and was about the same length Greg could remember the narrow boat being.

A for sale sign hang in the window. Greg stopped and pondered. Was this a sign from the universe? Even though he mentally didn’t feel ready, maybe he should look into owning this? All sorts of things whirled in his mind, making Greg question himself.

Someone stepped out onto the stern. It took a second before the soft hello broke through Greg’s thoughts. He was surprised to see Mycroft.

“Hey Mycroft… Selling this beauty?” Greg asked, before he could stop himself, pointing to the little sign.

“Ah, no. I haven’t taken the sign down yet. I just brought it…”

That made sense. Oh well, maybe it was for the best that this boat wasn’t available. Greg congratulated Mycroft on his new purchase before heading down the towpath again. He stopped and turned back when Mycroft called to him.

“Wait! …Do you want to come in?” Mycroft offered, “…I… I… I have some tea. If you’d… If you’d like to stay and share a pot? …Maybe?”

Greg frowned. He wasn’t used to Mycroft being unsure of something. He studied the other man for a moment. Mycroft did seem sincere in his offer. And there was something lurking in his gaze, something familiar hiding in his eyes. It was like looking in a mirror, Greg realised.

“Sounds good,” he replied, finally making up his mind, “I do believe this is a boat I know well. Maybe I can tell you some stories about adventures…”

Mycroft gave a soft small smile and welcomed him aboard. As Greg entered the boat, he let out a deep breath as something shifted inside. It felt like this was where he needed to be. And that this was going to be the start of a good friendship with Mycroft. The universe definitely did work in mysterious ways.

Greg matched Mycroft’s smile. He began to regal him with stories and memories as the other poured them some tea.

Chapter Text

Greg had never really been good at art. He couldn’t draw or paint, with stick figures being as good as he got. And so art classes at school became time to sit and stare out the window. Boring as hell and always made Greg wish there was a way to change his lack of skill. He’d love to be able to capture how the world changed everyday.

It all changed when the teacher had decided to do some classes on photography. Greg took to it like a duck to water. It wasn’t long before it became a passion for him. He started saving every last pound to buy a camera and a couple of lenses.

Once brought, every spare moment was then spent outside, finding different landscapes to capture. He loved revisiting the same locations, showing the changes seasons and time had on a place.

A particular favourite was the little cottage in the countryside that his family frequented. It was nice to compare how it changed over the many years they visited it. How weathered the wood and bricks became. The fading paint work becoming bright with a new coat of paint, only to fade yet again as time went on. Different flowers in the front garden. The leaves on the trees, always changing colour. Disappearing in winter and returning in spring.

Sometimes Greg would dabble in taking portraits. But they always seemed to include a lot of the background in them. One particular standout shot was of his family. This was hung in pride of place in his parents home.

It showed his mum and dad walking along a beach watching as his sister run along it with her young children. The wide angle lens capturing the whole length of the sandy beach as well. All the shells and seaweed that lay in clumps, hiding tiny crabs. The waves crashing ashore under the clearest bluest sky Greg had ever seen.

There was an exception to his usual style though. It struck Greg one day as he looked over his photos. Mycroft was the only person he photographed up close with hardly any background.

Every photo of his beloved partner was just of him, nothing else. Just Mycroft and his sharp, calculating blue eyes. Eyes that Greg wanted to stare into as often as he could. Mycroft and his usually straight ginger hair. And the secret curl to it that Mycroft rarely let show, but Greg absolutely loved when he did.

Every freckle, scattered like stars over his back. The wrinkles around his eyes when he smiled. His gentle, soft hands and long fingers, holding a book or his phone or ever present umbrella. His long legs. Mycroft in and out of his suits. At home, out in the sun. In London, on holidays abroad.

Just him. Just Mycroft. Right there, the sole focus in those photographs.

Greg wasn’t sure if he liked taking photos of landscapes or Mycroft more. In the end he decided it didn’t matter. He just loved having a camera and photographing beautiful things.

Chapter Text

“These are done,” announced Greg as he poked at one of the biscuit trays.

Thank goodness! Mycroft sighed in relief. Greg usually made him help decorate the Christmas biscuits. But finally! Finally this was the year they forgo that particular tradition. This was the year they’d get to curl up in front of a fire and watch Doctor Who way earlier than usual. They would be able to eat the biscuits as they were. The very plain but still very tasty looking biscuits.

And more importantly this would be the first year they wouldn’t need to clean up a horrifying mess in their kitchen.

Every year, like clockwork, Greg would get icing and other toppings all over the biscuits, all over the kitchen and even over Mycroft himself. And all whilst singing Christmas carols at the top of his voice.

Oh, the carols! Mycroft hated them. He could admit that Greg was a good singer though. But any other song would be better than Christmas carols. Even ‘Baby Shark’ would be better… Maybe. Mycroft certainly wasn’t going to suggest that to Greg, who he knew would run with the suggestion and make it Christmasy to fit in with the festive season.

But this year! This year he wouldn’t need to suffer through the carols or the biscuit decorating! Mycroft’s inner Grinch leapt with joy. Ironically it was like Christmas had come early.

“It’s decorating biscuit time!”

Oh. Oh no.

Mycroft groaned. He knew it was too good to be true. He grumbled that he much rather decorate Greg in a dapper suit, then decorate the biscuits. But nevertheless Mycroft went over to the aprons and put one on, before grabbing the other and shoving it over Greg’s head.

“Oi! I’m trying to get the icing and stuff out!”

“Like I said earlier, my shirt isn’t an apron. I’d like at least one thing to not be iced thank you,” Mycroft paused. He took the bottles of food colouring out of Greg’s hands and put them back into the panty, “Or dyed!”

Greg looked a bit sheepish, remembering the Easter egg dying incident that happened earlier that very year. “You didn’t like that shirt anyway…”

Mycroft just gave Greg a look, before turning back to the pantry. He grabbed out the acceptable pre coloured icings, heading over to the counter to lay them out in rainbow order. He organised the sprinkles and other decorative things into the correct order too as Greg pulled them out of the pantry.

“I know this isn’t your favourite thing to do, so I can just do this bit by myself…” offered Greg. Before Mycroft could answer he continued, “I’m very happy to do it myself. Besides I can always save some icing… You know… For later. Because I know you love the clean up…”

Looking up sharply, Mycroft eyed Greg. Greg winked at him with a smirk. Ok, so maybe Mycroft did enjoy the cleaning up part of this whole ordeal. Well, only one part of it actually. The part where they licked and nibbled all the icing off of each other.

“If you’re certain…”

Mycroft would help with the decorating if Greg insisted. But if there was an honest chance he could get out of it, he’d take it.

“Go get the fire nice and ready, love,” said Greg as he shooed his partner out of the kitchen with a smile.

Greg started humming happily as he set aside the mint chocolate icing he knew was someone’s secret favourite. After he’d made a few Grinch biscuits in honour of Mycroft that is.

Chapter Text

[To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: emails

Mr Holmes,
(That sounds too formal. Plus it is nearing midnight. That must mean we can be more casual. You know since it’s after work hours… Right?)

So. Mycroft.

I hate emails. They are so stupid. I bet you have more of them than I do. Which is sad for you, I have a lot. So having more would be even more of a nightmare.

From Greg.
Aka the bored detective inspector. -> not to be confused with your brother. I promise I won’t blow anything up in my boredom… maybe…]

[To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: re: emails

Please ignore previous email. It’s kinda embarrassing…

Thanks, Greg]

[To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: re: emails

Gregory,

No need to be embarrassed. I agree with your sentiments: emails are indeed stupid. And I take you up on your bet. What is your preferred prize if you do indeed win?

Mycroft.
Aka an equally as bored government official, who will also attempt to refrain from using explosives.]

[To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: re: emails

Mycroft,

You’re much too gracious. I suppose I want… Well. If I win I want to take you out for a date. If that’s acceptable?

What would you claim if you win?

Greg.
Ps: do you have an exploding pen? You seem the type to have one.]

[To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: re: emails

Gregory,

No asking for help with clearing your emails? Interesting. But a date is more than acceptable. If I win I would like you to be my plus one to an event of my choice.

Do we have an agreement?

Mycroft.
Ps: I’m not at liberty to say. I am not a spy you know.]

[To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: re: emails

Mycroft,

We have an agreement. I have 567 emails currently in my inbox, 285 in my spam folder and 135 in my deleted folder. So that’s a total of 987.

Greg.
Ps: that means you do! I know you’re not a spy. Just higher up in the government than you say…]

[To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: re: emails

Gregory,

I believe you’ll be needing to clear your schedule for next weekend. Pack a bag as well, we’ll be going to the Loire Valley in France.

I have one email less than you. My inbox: 566. Deleted folder: 136. Spam folder: 284. For a total of: 986.

Mycroft.
Ps: No comment… Don’t go giving Sherlock ideas in regard to the pen.]

[To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: re: emails

Mycroft,

A weekend in the Loire Valley! That’s where my father’s family is from. Holy shit! What sort of event is this? Do I need to bring any suits?!

Greg.
Ps: my lips are sealed.]

[To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: re: emails

Gregory,

One suit should be fine. I invested in a vineyard and château. There’s a grand opening for it.

I must admit I had you in mind when I first looked into it. With the hope I could take you there one day. If you would rather we go on a simpler first date I would be happy to oblige you.

Mycroft.]

[To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: re: emails

Mycroft,

We could meet up before we go, so you can show me pictures of the place? I’d love to know more about it…

Greg.]

Chapter Text

Sometimes Greg hated his job. Spending hours upon hours outside at a crime scene whilst it snowed and an icy gale blew was far from ideal. It was a tough case too. Sherlock refused to come and help because of the weather. Even with the murder being a 9 on his scale! Greg ended up face timing him just so that they could solve the mystery quicker.

Finally everything was solved and the murderer was arrested. Greg gladly sent everyone home. Paperwork could wait till they all weren’t cold, shivering messes.

Greg slowly trudged through the front door. He sighed in relief at the warmth. Oh! This meant Mycroft was home early from a long trip away in Switzerland. Greg lit up. This was such a fantastic surprise. Especially after such a trying day.

“Mycroft?” he called out as he started stripping out of his wet clothes. He left them in a trail behind him as he went looking for his husband.

“Gregory? I’m in the library.”

Of course that’s where Mycroft was. They both agreed it was their favourite room of the house. Greg loved how cozy it was, especially when the fireplace was lit and they had their Christmas tree set up.

Mycroft greeted him at the door to the library with a kiss and a quilt. “Here, put this around you. We’ll get you warmed up in no time.”

Greg let himself be wrapped up in the blanket and be lead over to the couch. He snuggled down into it, already feeling much warmer. Something on the side table caught his eye.

“You made us hot chocolate?” Greg took a sip, “And with some good stuff!”

Mycroft smiled and dragged his own quilt over himself. Whilst the hot chocolate mix had been a last minute purchase, Mycroft knew it would be greatly appreciated by Greg. He kissed his husband again, enjoying the taste of the chocolate on his lips.

Chapter Text

Mycroft slumped slightly in his seat at the back of the class as the teacher ran through the outline of their next assignment. It was to be a group project. He had a horrible track record with such things. Being at a new college wasn’t going to change that fact. And the fact he was a year younger than his classmates due to him skipping a grade wasn’t doing him any favours.

The other kids tended to avoid him at all costs for some reason. They always had, no matter which school he was at. Mycroft was unsure why. He’d tried so hard to make friends and work well with others.

Once the teacher finished their explanation everyone got up and scrambled around, pulling their friends into little groups. Mycroft tried to catch a couple of other students eyes. No one paid him any attention.

Mycroft sighed and ducked his head. Hopefully the teacher would allow him to complete the assignment by himself. Worse than group assignments was being forced to join in a group who didn’t want him there. It was embarrassing to say the least.

Suddenly there was a shadow across his desk. Mycroft jumped a little when books thumped down onto the empty desk next to him. A chair scraped back and someone sat down. He hesitated and peeked at them. Mycroft’s jaw dropped as he saw who it was.

“Hi. Can I join you?”

“…Yes…” Mycroft managed to squeak out. He hid his face again, feeling it go bright red.

Greg Lestrade, captain of the rugby team and the most popular (and attractive) boy in school was sitting next to him. And he wanted to be in a group with Mycroft. Why though? This had to be a dream or apart of a prank.

“Hey, I can hear that brain of yours working over time,” Greg interrupted Mycroft’s thoughts, “This isn’t anything sinister. Honest! I just… I just wanted to work with you on this.”

Mycroft looked up. Greg wasn’t meeting his eyes. But Mycroft could tell he was telling the truth. Plus Greg seemed to be… No, he couldn’t be blushing as well… The lights were obviously playing tricks on Mycroft.

“Um. Would you want my phone number?” offered Mycroft. His eyes widened. He was surprised that came out of his mouth. Mycroft quickly pressed on, “So we can plan the project easier and stuff…”

Greg nodded eagerly. He unlocked his phone and handed it to Mycroft so he could enter in his number. They sat in silence together for a moment, both avoiding each other’s gaze.

“So… Uh…” Mycroft cleared his throat, not sure what to say to break the ice.

“I do have a couple of ideas for starting points… If you wanna hear them?” offered Greg.

Nodding Mycroft turned to Greg as the other boy pulled out a piece of paper to scribble diagrams to go along with his ideas. Soon Mycroft was adding his own into the mix. Time flew and both groaned when the bell rang to signal the end of class.

As they packed up their books they made plans to meet up so they could continue to work on the project. Greg slipped up and called them dates instead of study sessions. Both boys blushed furiously, but both found themselves with small smiles on their faces.

Chapter Text

Greg stared at himself in the mirror. He looked good. Scrap that - he looked stunning. So handsome that Mycroft would definitely be speechless and weak at the knees when he saw him in this suit.

He grinned over his shoulder, “Thanks Merlin, this is perfect.”

“Of course it is. Aren’t you glad you listened to me about the fabric? You lack taste in everything… Yes, including in men. Mycroft is indeed good looking, I’ll give him that. But he’s got nothing on Harry,” teased Merlin, returning his friend’s smile.

“I have bad taste? Including in best friends?” Greg laughed at the face Merlin pulled. “I’ll have to agree to disagree about our partners. Mycroft is far superior to Harry.”

“Well, yes technically in the grand scheme of things since Mycroft is Arthur’s bosses boss. Making him Harry’s superior in a work sense. But the fact of the matter is…”

A wolf whistle interrupted the two men and startled them. They turned to see Harry and Eggsy enter the room. Eggsy winked at Greg, “Hello handsome.”

“Taken. And so are you,” Harry said elbowing Eggsy.

“Uh, yeah. I’m not going to jump ship for him. But I do have eyes and he is handsome. Roxy would agree with me.”

Harry elbowed Eggsy again. This time it was harder, making the young man stumble out of the room. “Go behave somewhere else! ...Sorry about him.”

“All good,” said Greg and turned back to the mirror.

He ran his hands over the front of the tailored suit. Merlin definitely set him on the right path with everything about this suit. He trusted Merlin’s opinion impeccably. It was one of the reasons why Greg went with getting a suit from him and the Kingsman Tailors. (That and the fact he got free suits from them as a former Kingsman agent.)

“So, this is ‘The Suit’,” Harry stated.

Greg nodded. This was indeed ‘The Suit.’ The one he was going to wear to his wedding. He bit his lip as his eyes misted up just thinking about it. A box of tissues was slapped against his chest. Greg grunted a thanks as he took some out and dabbed at his eyes.

“We’ll need several boxes of tissues on the day. If you’re crying now, you’re going to be bawling on the day…” Merlin muttered.

“So will you. Need I remind you of our own wedding? You both went through 6 boxes each,” Harry pointed out, smiling at the memory, “What a pair of hopeless romantics.”

Greg offered the tissues to Merlin who had started tearing up too. “Take more than that. Seriously, you’ll need more for what I’m about to ask you...”

Merlin looked up sharply with a deep inhale. It took him a second to work out what Greg was alluding to. He drew his friend into a huge hug as he started sobbing. “Of course I’ll be your best man.”

Chapter Text

According to Greg the ideal way to spend a Sunday was to spend it eating ice cream. He always had a tub or five squirrelled away for the occasion. Greg even went to great lengths to get a personal freezer installed in his office at the Yard just so he could keep the tradition if he just so happened to be called in on a Sunday.

And then Mycroft came into the mix. He had different views on the ideal way to spend a Sunday. He split the day into halves. The first half was spent eating as much chocolate cake as one wanted. The second was spent on the treadmill working all the cake off.

Greg could admit the cake had its appeal (especially if it was paired with his ice cream) and he would happily add that to his day. But spending half a day on the treadmill was excessive. He told Mycroft as much which lead to their first fight. They roared at each other til both were red in the face.

In one of the quiet moments between all the yelling Greg suggested to shelve this topic until they calmed down. Mycroft stormed into his home office whilst Greg went to work on his motorbike in the garage. Several hours later and a significantly calmer Greg reappeared in the house.

“Mycroft? Can I come in?” Greg tentatively peered around the door. He entered when Mycroft waved him in. Once the chocolate cake he’d brought was set on the desk between them he sat down in one of the chairs opposite Mycroft.

“I’m sorry,” they both said at the same time.

“I know I do tend to over do the tread mill,” started Mycroft.

Greg interrupted, “I shouldn’t have been as brutal when I brought my opinion on that up. I really am sorry.” He paused to gather his thoughts, “Changing my ideal Sunday is hard. But I am happy to join you running after our cake and ice cream… Maybe not for the entire time though…”

Mycroft eyed the cake between them, deep in thought. Greg was right, change was hard. Being joined for some of his run time could be a good compromise. But there was a better option…

“How about we add in sex?”

Greg’s mouth dropped open. “What?”

“Sex can be considered a type of cardio exercise. I could be tempted to replace some of my running with it…” Mycroft stood up and grabbed the cake. “We do still have some of our Sunday left, you know. How about we grab that tub of ice cream you’ve attempted to hide behind the frozen peas…”

Greg was up and out of the room before Mycroft could finish that sentence. Mycroft himself followed hot on Greg’s heels.

Chapter Text

Greg swung his legs over the side of the bed. Tentatively he tried to stand up, only to immediately sit back down as his knees buckled under his weight. Fuck. His legs still felt like jelly.

How was he supposed to get to the toilet? Greg needed to call Mycroft to come help… No he couldn’t do that… He should though… No, no he couldn’t.

Greg knew his partner wouldn’t mind helping. But Mycroft was already doing so much for him. He really didn’t want to burden him with more things to do. Besides Greg felt he should be able to make it the few meters to the bathroom by now. Especially considering he’d been off his feet and healing for a week and a half already. Steeling himself Greg attempted to stand again.

Oh no. Nope. Not good at all. Greg went back to sitting again. He sighed in frustration. Fuck this, he thought. He could make it… Maybe…

Greg scooted to the end of the bed so he’d be closer to the door. There was a loud string of curses as he attempted to stand up again. Three more goes and Greg finally was on his feet. Yes he was hunched over and holding onto the bed frame for dear life but at least he was up.

Now he just needed to take a couple steps towards the bathroom… Greg shifted trying to put more weight onto his legs.

Oh fuck. Nope. No. Bad idea! Very bad idea! Abort mission! Greg slumped face first onto the covers, the bed frame digging into his mid section. Ow, this position was even worse than standing had been.

“Gregory! What are you doing up?” Mycroft came rushing into the room. He quickly helped Greg get into a more bearable position.

“Needed the toilet… Wanted to do it myself, but my legs are still feeling like jelly…” sighed Greg.

Mycroft immediately sprung into action, scooping his partner up and taking him into the bathroom. He made quick work of helping Greg onto the toilet.

Once Greg was sorting himself out, Mycroft set about filling the bathtub. He knew Greg loved taking a long leisurely bath, so hopefully this would help brighten his mood.

Taking out the container of bath bombs he offered it to the other man. It didn’t take Greg long before he selected a bright purple lavender smelling one. Mycroft smiled, he knew that one was a particular favourite of Greg’s. Turning he dropped it into the water with a small splash.

“…I’m sorry.”

“For what?” asked Mycroft turning back to his partner.

Greg stared down at his hands. A tear slid down his face. “I don’t wanna be a burden…”

Mycroft leaned down to place a soft kiss on Greg’s forehead and brushed the tear away. “You’d drop everything to help me if I was in your position,” he pointed out, “I know it’s hard to accept help, my love. But we can’t rush the healing process. I’m happy to be here for as long as it takes for you to get better and then some.”

Wrapping his arms around Mycroft Greg leaned forwards to burrow his face into the other’s chest. He knew Mycroft was right. Greg was very thankful for his help whilst he healed. He had to plan a way to properly thank Mycroft later. But for now he lent back and pulled Mycroft down to give him a very thorough kiss.

Chapter Text

The blind fold was ripped off Greg. He found himself handcuffed and kneeling in the middle of the throne room with two guards holding him down. In front of them was Jim Moriarty. A man who Greg very loudly opposed whenever he got the chance. A man who he would never swear his fealty to. A man who he never would accept as his King.

“Ahhh, yes. Sir Gregory Lestrade. Mycroft Holmes, the ex king’s favourite knight. You’re lucky I haven’t killed you yet. How about I continue to let you live if you swear your loyalty to me?”

“No.” Greg tried to keep eye contact with Moriarty and not let on how scared he was feeling. He knew the other man could tell though.

Moriarty sauntered over to Greg. Gripping his hair tightly he pulled Greg’s head back painfully. “I’ll ask you one last time. Swear fealty to me.”

“No.”

“How dare you deny me! I am your one true king!” Moriarty yelled right into Greg’s face. He drew up to his full height, drew back a hand and slapped him hard.

Tears welled in Greg’s eyes as he gritted his teeth through the pain. After a moment he looked up at Moriarty once again. “Mycroft Holmes is my true king…” he whispered before he could stop himself.

To be honest Mycroft was more than his true king. He was the man of Greg’s dreams, the one he wanted to love, to cherish and to spend his life with. Unfortunately Greg hadn’t had the courage to tell Mycroft that before everything went down. And now he would never get to do so.

Another slap was delivered. Greg cried out in pain. His tears spilled over and down his sore, red face.

“I’ll take great pleasure in seeing you die. It’s a pity neither of your beloved Holmes’ are here to watch. To see the what will become of their best knight… And that’s because…” Moriarty paused, a big grin appearing on his face. “…Because my own beloved knight found them. Oh, yes they’re alive…”

Greg looked up sharply, hardly daring to breathe. Both Mycroft and his brother Prince Sherlock were alive?! He had tried to hold on hope after the great battle. No one knew for certain if either one of them had survived and managed to get into hiding.

“…Of course I allowed Sir Moran to kill them. He so enjoyed that. I did make him draw Mycroft’s death out. I wanted to tease him about you in his final moments…” chuckled Moriarty, loving how the news made Greg struggle and snarl at him.

Suddenly chaos erupted. All the doors flew open as soldiers flooded the room. Moriarty’s men scrambled around trying to fight off the intruders. The two men holding Greg down dropped him as they entered the fight. Moriarty himself tried to escape, but only managed to get to the throne before he was pinned to it with an arrow through a shoulder and another through the leg.

Three figures made their way over. Greg could see that one of them was Sir John Watson, Captain of the Kings Archers. John never went anywhere without Sherlock. So if he was alive and here, then… Yes! Moriarty had lied! Sherlock was alive! Greg smiled as he recognised the younger man next to John. He watched as Sherlock stalked up to Moriarty, drawing his sword out as he went.

Greg missed what happened next because he was being hurled up into someone’s arms. He gasped loudly.

“…Mycroft? You’re alive! I had hoped… Oh, Mycroft. You’re alive!”

“Yes, my brave knight, I am indeed alive,” said Mycroft as he made quick work of uncuffing Greg. As soon as he was free Greg threw himself at Mycroft hugging him fiercely, sobbing in relief.

“I’m sorry it took so long to come back… And that I never sent word to you about being alive… Or about my…” Mycroft murmured into Greg’s ear as he hugged his knight back just as hard.

“You’re here now. That’s all that matters…” Greg stopped short. His brain catching up to him. Mycroft was softly kissing his head. Did this mean…?! Plus he hadn’t finished that sentence… “Or about your what? Please Mycroft, about your what?”

Mycroft shook his head. “Now isn’t the time,” he said indicating the carnage around them. Thankfully his men had made quick work of the enemy. Clean up and sorting out everything would take a while though.

“Mycroft. About your what? Because truthfully I’m so close to dropping down right here and now to swear my loyalty and love to you and to beg for your hand in marriage…” Greg gripped onto Mycroft harder because if he didn’t he would certainly be down on his knees again. “That’s probably taking it too quickly. I’ll settle for…”

“…Oh, love. You don’t have to settle for anything. Yes. Yes, I accept your pledge of fealty. And most gladly accept your offer of love and marriage.”

Cheers and applause erupted around them as Mycroft and Greg kissed.

Chapter Text

Greg always loved libraries growing up. He had fond memories of hours spent at the local one where he grew up. So it was no surprise that he volunteered as a librarian at his universities library. The extra credits he got for doing that was a bonus for him.

He also found it a great way to meet new people and gain friends. There were all sorts of students who regularly came into the library to study or to hang out.

But there was one particular student who came in all the time that Greg hadn’t managed to talk with yet. One he managed to develop a crush on in spite of not knowing anything about the said tall lanky red head.

Greg truely wanted to start a conversation with him. But the lad was so gorgeous! Greg found himself tongue tied at the mere thought of going up and introducing himself… Which was very unlike him as Greg was usually a very confident and social person.

What would he even say after that? That is if he could actually stumble through his name. Ask him out? Greg bulked at that. There was no way the mysterious handsome man would be interested in him romantically! His heart could only hope…

“Excuse me…”

Oh shit. The mysterious man was in front of him. And he was even more good looking close up. Greg averted his gaze, knowing he was about to get told off for staring.

“Mycroft Holmes. Delighted to meet you.”

“…Greg. And likewise…”

“I’m hoping that you staring at me means you’ll say yes to going out for a coffee with me?”

Wait. What! He wasn’t being told off for staring?! But instead he was being asked out?! At least one of them was straightforward. Greg was glad for that.

Thankfully he managed to nod yes. Mycroft smiled causing Greg’s heart to flutter. He almost fainted when the red head handed his number to him along with a promise to come back after Greg’s shift ended so they could go for their date.

Greg was happy his shift didn’t end for a couple hours. Only because then he had time to get his nerves in order and he’d be more able to be his usual confidant self. Hopefully…

Chapter Text

Greg stares at the front door of 221 Baker St. Someone had nailed some mistletoe to the door mantle. Mrs Hudsons doing if he had to guess. He was about to knock on the door when someone came to stand beside him. Turning he saw Mycroft.

“Uhh, there’s mistletoe,” he pointed out, a bit redundantly. “…Mrs Hudson probably won’t let us in if we don’t kiss… I… Uh… I could give you one on the cheek?”

“Mmmm. That should suffice,” said Mycroft. He shuffled closer to Greg, lent towards him and waited.

After a moment Greg went in for a quick peck. Mycroft turned his head at the right time and catches the kiss on the lips. Stunned Greg stayed still for a moment before chasing Mycroft as he went to pull away.

Their next kiss was soft and tentatively before morphing into a deeper one. Mycroft’s hands came up to capture Greg’s face. He felt Greg’s hands slide under his coat, warm and steady on his sides. Both paused to catch their breath before going back in for more kisses.

The moment is shattered by Sherlock flinging the door open causing the two men to jump slightly, still tangled in each other’s arms.

“Ewwwww,” yelled Sherlock as he slammed the door shut.

Greg grinned as he rests his forehead against Mycroft’s, “Younger brothers! Gotta love em. That actually was a quite tame reaction to this. Definitely could’ve been worse.”

Mycroft smiled. There never would have been a bad reaction. He knew that Sherlock approved of this development. His younger brother had been hounding him for many moons now to act on mutual feelings he and Greg had for each other. Hence why it had actually been Sherlock who had put up the mistletoe.

Chapter Text

After hours of work Mycroft finally shut his laptop and put it aside. He stretched out, starting with his neck and ending with the wriggling of his toes. The rough bark of the tree behind him scraped his back and the grass beneath tickled him. He was glad he’d decided to work from home today.

Even more so the decision to do so outside. Having to put on copious amounts of sunscreen was worth it. It truely was lovely to be out here in the garden. This backyard was what sold the place for him. And he was so glad to be able to enjoy it.

Mycroft took a sip of some iced tea. Drat! It was finished. He sighed, debating whether or not he should go inside to get more. On a hot day like today it was a good idea to keep hydrated. But Mycroft couldn’t be bothered to go in out of the sun just yet.

Would going in the pool count as hydrating oneself? Mycroft didn’t care if it did or not. He got up, dusted some loose grass off of himself and headed over to the water. Jumping into the pool sounded like a lovely idea.

He’d be diving in though, not jumping. Mycroft would never be so uncouth and jump into the pool. Much to his husband’s dismay. Greg was always trying to get Mycroft to do a cannonball or whatever it was called. Apparently it was fun… Diving in was fun, so Mycroft would happily stick to that, thank you.

He elegantly dove into the deep end, staying underwater for a moment before surfacing. Mycroft floated on his back, arms and legs gently moving through the water. Aaah, that felt so refreshing.

“Mycroft Holmes! What on earth do you think you’re doing?”

Mycroft quickly righted himself, thankfully he was now at a point in the pool he could stand. He saw his dear husband standing on the side of the pool with his hands on his hips, looking mock angry. “Gregory! You’re home!”

“And just in time too. I’ll be needing to arrest you.”

“For what?”

“Uh, obviously for not entering the water correctly. And also for being a nuisance.”

Mycroft frowned. He wasn’t being a nuisance. That was his brother’s department.

Greg continued, unbuttoning his shirt as he did so, “Why didn’t you tell me you were going to work from home naked? I would’ve stayed to help guard your modesty.”

He made quick work of taking off his trousers and pants. They fell into a crumpled heap with his shirt. Before Mycroft could do anything, Greg jumped into the water with the biggest splash. He came up laughing as Mycroft spluttered.

“Gregory! And you have the audacity to call ME a nuisance! Shame on you.”

Greg swam over and gathered Mycroft into his arms, placing a kiss to his cheek. “My love, my beautiful husband, the highlight of my life…”

“Sweet talk will get you no where.”

“Good,” said Greg with a cheeky smile, “I ain’t gotta go anywhere. Can do what I want right here.”

Mycroft melted into the passionate kiss, rubbing up against Greg. His hands drifted from Greg’s sides to grab handfuls of his arse. Mhmm, his husband did have some good ideas. He didn’t think there would be any trouble convincing Greg to stay home the next day for a repeat performance if it was hot enough.

Minus the cannon balling into the pool obviously… Maybe…

Chapter Text

There’s a pile of packages at his front door waiting for Greg when he got home. He stared at them for a moment before rifling through them. Surely the delivery driver got the wrong house. They were all his apparently. Greg was perplexed, he thought he ordered just one small thing. Something that certainly didn’t need multiple boxes.

Once inside Greg opens the smallest, pulling out what he remembered he ordered. Going with the blue was a good idea as he admired the lacy underwear. Greg immediately cut the tags off and set them aside.

Greg debated whether to open the rest of the stuff or not. He supposed he should. They were addressed to him after all. But it all could be one giant mistake…

He knew there was a protocol involved with mysterious mail. What if it contained items much like the first? It’d be very embarrassing if his work knew the contents of his mail if it was. His safety was more important.

It was a risk but curiosity got the better of him. The next box contained a very nice leather harness and some leather wristbands that could clip together to make handcuffs. Another had a selection of toys that Greg knew he’d been admiring. Plus a few other ones that peaked his interest. He must’ve added these to his cart rather than his wish list. Greg made a mental note to double check his bank account.

The final package made Greg gasp. Oh, the pictures of these didn’t do them justice. They were truly exquisite. Greg reverently took the heels out of the box. Turning them over he admired them.

There’d been several colours on the website and he had a hard time choosing which he’d order. Not that Greg would’ve ordered them that is - these heels cost a fortune and would need to be saved up for. But the blue colour (which matched his new lacy underwear perfectly) was what he’d have gone with when he eventually did purchase.

A quick check found they were his size. Yep, Greg was definitely checking his bank now… How peculiar. He wasn’t missing money. Greg double checked the name on the boxes. They still said his.

Who sent these things to him? And why?

Greg checked all the boxes again for clues. Nothing. He checked all the envelopes he was sent as well. There in the middle of all his bills was an unmarked one. Made of very expensive paper by the looks and feel of it. He took no time in ripping the envelope open. A single piece of paper was inside, with posh loopy handwriting on it.

‘Gregory,

Forgive me for taking the liberty of sending you a few things. I imagine you’ll have some fun with them.

I hope you’ll give me the opportunity to enjoy them with you.

Your (not so secret anymore) admirer,
Mycroft.’

Oh. Oh wow. This was an interesting development. Greg had a million questions. This was Mycroft Holmes though, so he really shouldn’t be surprised. Besides Greg was ultimately quite glad - he had been (very slowly mind you) working up the courage to do something about his attraction to the other man.

Greg grinned, he was going to have so much fun being appreciated in these heels. That’d do wonders for his ego. He texted Mycroft before taking his presents into his bedroom to get ready for his guest.

>Thank you. I’m assuming you can get out of whatever meeting you’re in right now. Lock the front door after you let yourself in.

>Maybe take tomorrow off too? You spoiled me rotten. We’ll need the time so I can properly thank you for everything…