Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

      “Again?”

      “Be silent, peasant, and accept your burden.”

Sherlock marched into the shop and dropped yet another load of found/bought/pilfered goods onto the floor behind the counter, with John repeating the action a moment later.  Since they had gotten their bicycles, the amount of terrain the two had covered in their explorations was indefinable and, beyond a few scrapes and bruises from ‘the monstrous and uncouth acts of heartless nature and incompetents charged with maintaining roads’ Sherlock and John had found every bit of hoped-for joy that Lestrade could wish.  Of course…

      “A basket.  One nice basket for each of you.  How about it?”

      “Baskets are for babies, Greg.  You have a car with a boot, so why can’t you carry our things home for us?”

Acquiring countless bits of flotsam and jetsam during their travels was one the boys’ favorite pursuits.  Porting said flotsam and jetsam back with them, however, was apparently beneath their dignity.

      “Because I’m not off work for another two hours and trying to get things done with a trash pile underfoot isn’t the easiest or most sanitary thing.”

      “There is nothing unsanitary about my paint samples!”

Lestrade looked at the pile of broken radios, plumbing supplies and women’s shoes and wondered if Sherlock’s brain had overheated.

      “There’s no paint there.”

      “The paint samples, microwit, are in my jacket pocket.”

Definite overheat.

      “Here, why don’t you two have a seat and I’ll get you a nice glass of water.”

      “John and I have a full agenda and no time for your cholera-laced beverage.”

      “I have time for cholera, Sherlock.  We haven’t had a break since we came home from school.”

Sherlock huffed loudly and made ‘away with you’ motions to Lestrade, who drew over two stools and found a couple of clean glasses for water.

      “Please tell me you did your schoolwork first, though.  Mycroft and I both said that if you ignore your studies, those bicycles are going to be locked away until things get back to normal.”

      “The time required to complete my nonsensical assignments can be slotted between my fork leaving my plate and finding my mouth, so I do not share your petty concerns.”

      “John, you want to put a real person’s opinion out there?”

      “We actually don’t have much to do today, Greg, so it’s alright.  A few problems for maths class and we have to think of a topic for a history essay, but that’s all.”

Not that Lestrade was terribly worried about the boys’ schoolwork, actually.  John had turned bleached-bone white at the threat of losing his valiant mount and had remained highly attentive to his academic demands, dragging along Sherlock so his riding partner remained at his side.

      “That doesn’t sound like an issue, then.  And, dare I ask what you’re going to do with the rest of the time?”

      “Experiments!”

      “Football!”

      “There seems to be a difference of opinion.”

      “Not really, Greg.  I get to practice by kicking the ball against the house and Sherlock is going to work on footprints.”

      “Yours?”

      “No, different footprints.”

John pointing to the ladies’ shoes solved the mystery nicely.

      “Well, it’s good that you’re each getting to do something interesting.”

And that was a holy truth, in Lestrade’s opinion.  Sherlock would do his science and John could run off his overflowing tank of energy in his own, special way.  Despite his fears, John wasn’t doing an altogether poor job of making time for things he enjoyed and wasn’t afraid, when he was tired or really wanted to do something else, of telling Sherlock no.

      “Time permitting, I shall, also, conduct various tests on John’s accuracy and cardiovascular fitness.”

Which would let John run around more and play with his new football.  Nice job, Sherlock.

      “After dinner, we’re going to experiment with the paint samples Sherlock collected.  I get to chew some and see if they taste sweet.  That means there’s lead in them.”

Yes, nice job keeping your test subjects fit and healthy before you poison them.

      “Well, let’s see if there’s another test for lead than having you drop dead on the floor, shall we?”

      “Sherlock!  You said lead wasn’t poisonous!  You’re a horrible liar.”

      “No, I am a tremendously-talented liar and, despite the shop boy’s hysterical doom-spouting, you are highly unlikely to die from the miniscule amount of lead you shall consume.  Besides, with the quantity of food that shall be in your gullet after dinner, the chance the relevant molecules shall find a portal into your body tissues is small within all levels of scientific acceptability.  Hmmmm… we could, however, monitor your elimination to document the rate of clearance from your system.”

      “That sounds disgusting.”

      “Only for those who fear science.”

      “Fear’s not my problem, Sherlock.  Poo is my problem.”

      “Since, as you say, it is your problem, I shall begin planning.”

Lestrade sighed, handed John something sweet to chew on and patted him on the shoulder.  There was a smelly, ugly future ahead of the boy and he might as well enjoy his tasty, fragrant treat now while his senses still worked.

      “Are you two done rubbish collecting or are there any other errands on your list?”

      “We thought chips might be on our list.”

Said with perfect cute-puppy eyes that made Lestrade laugh and wish he could accommodate the little beggars.  Unfortunately, Christmas had left him skint and with the boys’ demands on his wallet, he still couldn’t get ahead, even though Christmas was becoming a distant memory. So, nights out with the boys were few and far between.  Nights out with any of the boys… his mates were in the same boat, though, so their occasional night ‘out’ had been at someone’s house where they could watch telly and drink parental beer if said parents were foolish enough to leave their supply without a heavy lock and chain around it.  Needless to say, the hue and cry to stage their frolicking at Mycroft’s house was always ear-splitting, but he’d done a good job keeping the barbarians from the gates every night of the week.

      “Not today, I’m afraid.  First, I have to work until the shop closes and, second, I don’t have the money to buy dinner for the two of you.  I get paid in a couple of days, though, and we can plan a night at the pub or the cinema after that.  Alright?”

From their frowns, it was about as alright as it had been the last few times he had to turn down the boys for something he was too broke to buy, but at least they’d understood after he’d shown them his wallet and his money sock, which was now just a sock whose mate had been lost in the wash.  That understanding was showing strain, though, and he didn’t begrudge them a bit.  Only a few days after Christmas, Mycroft had to scamper to his college to make up a few oral exams and then went straight somewhere undisclosed for a week.  That somewhere led, next, to London, where he had tended to be far more often than he was at home.  In fact, that was where his partner was now, so he was feeling a little needy at the moment, himself, but what he needed couldn’t fit in a money sock.

      “No.”

      “Come on, Sherlock!  If I could take you for chips, I would.  You know I would.  Here’s an idea… you get an allowance, so why don’t you take me out for chips instead?”

The scandalized look on Sherlock’s face was about what Lestrade expected, but it did his heart proud to see John pat both his and Sherlock’s pockets for money.

      “Sorry, Greg, but we spent all of our money on nail varnish remover and moth flakes.”

      “Tell me you’re not making a bomb or something.”

      “Uh… Sherlock?”

      “I am not at all convinced there shall be an explosion.”

      “We’re going to make a barricade with sofa cushions just in case, Greg, so don’t worry that we’ll get hurt.”

      “And how’s your lack of allowance money going to fare if you have to replace the sofa cushions because you’ve ruined the old ones with your maybe explosion?”

      “The petty concern of provisioning is not mine to ponder.”

      “Nice job using all those ‘p’ words, Sherlock.  Almost like you planned it.”

      “Preposterous.”

Sherlock got his own sweet treat to chew and it was actually a good hour before the boys made their way out of the shop to start the journey home.  If they kept to their normal pattern, that would involve another spin through town to make certain there was nothing nefarious happening that they could get in on, a stop to break into his house to see if there was anything to snack on that his mum might have left out in the open for Sherlock to claim as ‘plain sight’ spoils, and a progressive check on various outdoor experiments that Sherlock had going.  By the time they actually made it home, he might actually be off work and have a little time to kick the ball around with John and prance about in ladies’ shoes to make footprints for Sherlock to study.

And, maybe, if he got really lucky, Mycroft would call and they could all chat for a bit, which would make his lover happy.  Nothing made Mycroft happier than when he knew they were together and having a nice time.  Well, one thing did, and that was when Mycroft was there to share that nice time with them but… well, he should be home soon.  Hopefully.

      “You have no head for mathematics!”

Sherlock slammed both fists down on the table and glared at Lestrade, who was hoping that the maths fairy would flutter down and touch his head with a magic wand, filling it with knowledge.  What were they doing letting kids play with this witchcraft!  At least John was spared these arcane incantations and black magic.

      “I never said I was a maths genius, Sherlock.  You need your brother for that and, if you haven’t noticed, he’s not here.”

      “How could I not notice?  The absence of elephant droppings and trumpeting at the kitchen door were two highly relevant clues.”

      “Funny.  I’m afraid you’re going to have to ask you teacher about this business, though.  Get to school a little early and talk to them before class.”

      “Your uselessness is not surprising, as most bumpkins have little value outside of the fields they are charged to till, however, as it is inconveniencing me, I am formally taking offense and shall make note of your lack of service in your weekly performance review.”

Delightful.  Another multi-page report typed and printed on Sherlock’s new computer.  Life was good.

      “Sherlock, you can’t expect Greg to know everything.”

      “No, John, but it pleases me to do so at this time, so I shall.”

      “Well, it’s not right.  Don’t worry, Greg.  Sherlock didn’t know anything about important things like Top Trumps and football until I taught him, so he’s just being evil.  I think he misses Mycroft.”

      “Outlandish!  The day I miss the gingerpotamous is the day you may place me in the asylum and fasten the straps of my straightjacket.”

      “Don’t tempt me, you little bastard.  But…”

Lestrade looked at the clock and decided it was late enough that there was a chance Mycroft might be done for the day.

      “… what say we give Mycroft a call and see if he’s home?”

      “Yeah!”

      “I have no wish to suffer bleeding from the ears!”

      “It’s unanimous, then.  Hold on a moment.”

Sherlock’s shrill protestations serenaded Lestrade as he walked to the telephone and dialed the number he’d known by heart since the first time he heard it.  However, what he didn’t expect was it to be answered by a voice he hadn’t heard before.

      “Hello?”

      “Umm… hi.  Is Mycroft there?”

      “Yes, he is.”

Well, one question answered.  Now, should he address the second question of who the fuck he was talking to or the third about the music and other voices he was hearing in the background?  Oh, might as well stay in numeric order so he didn’t get lost in the details.

      “And may I ask to whom I am speaking.”

Said in my poshest voice so you know you’re not dealing with a peasant, though I should likely have had Sherlock say it just to be sure.

      “Is there something I can help you with?”

Arsehole .

      “Yes, you can go and get Mycroft and tell him he’s wanted on the phone.”

      “Myc is rather busy at the moment, so if you could… oh… yes, here you go.”

Myc ?

      “Yes?  Mycroft Holmes speaking.  May I help you?”

      “I honestly don’t know at this point.”

      “GREGORY!  Oh, my dear, I am so sorry you were forced to wait.  Edmund has indulged in a few cocktails and his manners are suffering for it, I’m afraid.”

Edmund?

      “I see.  And may I ask who is this Edmund, about whom I’m never heard once in my life?”

      “Merely a classmate, beloved.”

Classmate?

      “What do you mean by classmate?”

      “Did I forget to mention that a few of the individuals with whom I shall share classes at college are in London at the moment?”

      “Yes, you entirely failed to mention that, as well as the fact that you had actually met anyone at your college yet.”

      “Dear me, I have been remiss in sharing my news, haven’t I?  In any case, I had the opportunity to speak to a few of those who shall be in my college cohort and quite a number have family in the London area.  In truth I am not entirely certain how the invitation to visit came about, save via a general pleasantry that my colleagues chose to capitalize upon.”

      “So, you’re having a party.”

      “Not so grand a thing, really.  A few cocktails and hors d’oeuvres, nothing more.”

      “I see…”

While he was catching Sherlock’s eye daggers in the heart because he couldn’t cast maths spells and would be up late tonight doing his own work because the idea of chewing lead paint was still skulking around, eyeing the boys with anticipation so they couldn’t be left unsupervised until their tiny heads were strapped to their pillows.  Maybe that wasn’t fair, since he had a night with his mates now and then, however, a good number of those was spent here where he still had child-minding duty, but with a larger number of children.

      “… I suppose that sounds like fun.”

      “One cultivates connections where one can.  A few of those with whom I associate during my… work hours… are also in attendance.”

      “Connections, again?”

      “Most certainly.”

      “Yeah, well…”

Well, what?  Be angry that Mycroft was having a fun night in?  That was stupidly immature.  Wasn’t Mycroft’s fault he was feeling a little bit lonely, what with spring almost in the air and everyone he knew getting that randy feeling that spring always seemed to bring.

      “… good for you.  Hope you have a nice time with that.”

      “Oh, it is a trying thing, in truth, but social niceties can be powerful tools when wielded by a capable hand.”

      “I’m sure you’ll make the best of it.  I’ll let you get back to it, then.  Really didn’t have anything to say, so… yeah.  Have fun.”

      “That is not necessary, my dear, let me hear…”

A crash was what Greg heard, followed by the exasperated huff usually saved for Sherlock’s antics.

      “Perhaps it is better if I speak to you at another time.”

      “Sounds like it.  Bye, Mycroft.  I love you.”

      “As I do you, Gregory.”

Lestrade set down the receiver, then turned to nearly trip over two small boys who were standing about a foot away from him.

      “Is there any chance of privacy in this house?  Ever?”

      “You were speaking to the beluga and that information could have bearing on John and my comfort and convenience, therefore, we have a right to know the details in full before you present your filtered, edited and censored version for our inspection.”

      “Well, you dragged yourself over here for nothing.”

      “As we observed.  My brother is attempting to form a cult, which is laughable, since a cult leader must have a personality sufficient to draw followers to his depravity and Mycroft’s personality is completely is completely nonexistent, though the same, unfortunately, cannot be said for his depravity.”

      “He’s having a few people in for drinks, that’s all.”

      “That is not possible, for Mycroft cannot claim to know any people.  They avoid him like the plague and for demonstrably good reason.”

      “Well, he does now.  Met some of the lads he’ll be with at college and he’s got a few he works with that he invited, too.  It’s good he’s having a nice time and not being so lonely.  You don’t want him to be miserable do you?  Wait, don’t answer.  It’s really not necessary.  Forgot myself there for a moment.”

      “But Greg… Mycroft said he couldn’t come home because he was busy.  Having a party doesn’t sound very busy to me.”

Nor to me, John, but that’s because I’m a selfish bastard right now and need to pull the telephone pole out of my arse about my lover not drowning in loneliness.

      “No, it does, really.  There are people he’s going to work with in the future and, what did he call them?  Connections!  That was it.  Connections that could be helpful later on.  It’s like a business party, but with people more his own age.”

      “That sounds boring.”

Actually, it had sounded anything but boring, but that could stay Lestrade’s secret for now.

      “It probably is, John, so don’t think poorly of him, alright?  I’m sure he’d be here with us if he could.  You know Mycroft loves us, he’s proven that many times, so, even if he did have a fun party or go out for the night with a new friend, don’t worry it means he loves us any less.”

      “If you but slather yourself with whipped cream he will never leave your side.”

      “Thank you, as always, for your kind and compassionate input, Sherlock.”

      “You are welcome.”

Lestrade spun the two boys and marched them back to the library table to continue with their schoolwork.  Mycroft would be home soon, anyway, and he’d salve any of the boys’ bruised feelings.  Actually, he should be back in three days, to be precise.  Coincidentally, just in time for the weekend, and he had already told Mum to expect him home until Monday night at the earliest.  Mycroft had been away for a few weeks and he had a lot of pent-up libido to release on his lover’s pale, beautiful body.

      “He is fantasizing, John.  Witness the look.”

      “Yuck.  He is.”

      “Hey!  I’m just thinking about what sorts of things we can do when Mycroft gets home.  He’ll be back in a few days, you know.”

      “Do not think we believe your duplicity, menial!  John and I did not factor in any way into your lust-crazed sexual imagery.  May the gods of science be praised.”

Well, that was true.

      “How about some juice?”

      “You have damned yourself with your fruit-based attempt at distraction, however… I am a tad parched.”

      “And the cook got pineapple juice!”

      “I am not averse to pineapple.”

      “I’ll race you.”

      “You will lose.”

      “Big talk for someone who doesn’t play sports or do…”

John shot off towards the kitchen, with Sherlock hot on his heels, shrieking his opinion of John’s treachery.  Lestrade gave a silent cheer that attention successfully diverted from things that toddlers had no business giving their attention and the evening could get back to is regularly-scheduled programming.  Three days more, that wasn’t so bad was it?  Not at all…

      “Say that again?”

      “I am sorry, Gregory, so sorrowful you cannot begin to fathom my distress, but I shall not be returning home tomorrow, as planned.”

Count to ten.  Count slowly to ten.  Just yesterday, yesterday!, Mycroft said he was coming home and damn if Sherlock and John hadn’t started getting ready their own show-and-tell about what they had been doing.  A whole album of photos of their adventures and books of data from their experiments… now he had to tell them that Mycroft wasn’t coming home to see it.  Fucking wonderful.

      “Mycroft… just yesterday you told me…”

      “I know, my dear, I know and it tears my heart to pieces to have to relay this news, but matters have arisen that require my immediate attention.  There is simply nothing I can do.”

Count to ten.  Count slowly to ten.

      “Ok.  I understand.  You have to do what you have to do, right?  I’ll break it to the boys, though, so you don’t have to deal with their nonsense.  They miss you terribly, love, and were looking forward to you being back.”

      “Thank you, Gregory.  I miss them, as well, and do not feel I would fare well having to impart my news directly.  John would somehow find a way to project to my vision his sad, pleading eyes and I would be undone.”

      “You’re probably right.  He’s become a professional and certainly doesn’t always use his powers for good.  So… another day or two?”

      “That is my hope, though I shall not dishonor you by making a promise I am not certain I can keep.”

      “That’s probably smart.  We’ve not had good luck lately, have we?”

      “Merely a bump in a very long road, my dear.  Though, if it could be different, I would have it so in a heartbeat.”

      “I know.  Alright, let me go and give the news.  I suppose you probably brought work home with you and should get on to it.”

      “A few items of business did return with me, however, I hope to see those concluded soon so that I might actually meet my bed at a reasonable hour.”

      “Then I’ll let you get on with it.  Bye, Mycroft.  I love you and miss you terribly.”

      “And I miss you, my beloved.  Perhaps Mother Lestrade will be willing to watch Sherlock and John and we might have the house to ourselves when I return?”

      “That sounds wonderful.  I’ll see what I can do.”

Lestrade wished that, at least, Mycroft would be difficult to get off the phone, but that seemed to be somewhat a thing of the past.  Which was good, really. It meant they were coming to grips with their situation and not being stupid and needy about it.  But… a little stupid and needy would be nice right now.  So…

      “Do not bother to blubber your libidinous anguish over John and me, for we shall respond with all due vigor to keep our persons free from your besotted boo-hooing.”

And, of course, he had naught for privacy, not even for a single second to pull himself together.  At least Sherlock and John didn’t look upset by things.

      “How could you let Mycroft stay in London!  He’s supposed to come home!  Is he ever coming home?  Does he have a new family?”

Maybe a little upset.

      “You know better than that, John.  And it’s only a few days more.  Just a few.”

      “Oh, and what then?  Another phone call to say he’s not coming home?”

      “Mycroft has forsaken his responsibilities like the craven blackguard he is and I, for one, am not surprised in the least.  I have full faith he has already ensconced another concubine in his bedchamber.”

      “Sherlock… we’ve been through this once.  You poisoned me, you little bastard, to prove just how much Mycroft cares and now you’re willing to believe he’s leaving me behind?  Where’s your science and evidence speech now?”

      “Mycroft has scarcely been home since Christmas.  During that time, he has vetoed a visit by you, John or I on more than one occasion and spends a full 48% less time on the phone, on average, than he has in the past.  There is your evidence, science denier.  If you have a microgram of critical-thinking ability, the conclusion should be clear.”

      “It is.  Mycroft is ridiculously busy with things that are important and he can’t say no to and we have to accept that and not be evil about it.”

      “You are a door mat.”

Apparently, Mycroft’s absence was weighing very heavily on the two boys… they were never this negative about Mycroft not being home.  His love would need to spend some very substantial quality time with Sherlock and John soon or they were going to be completely incorrigible.

      “No, I’m just realistic.  So, how about you two get back to your chronography experiments and…”

      ‘Chromatography, you baboon!  I expect to perfect my technique by night’s end and add it to my already incomparable arsenal of scientific skills.”

      “We’re separating the colors in leaves!”

Which wasn’t quite what Sherlock had originally wanted to try, but he was getting better at tailoring his experiments to be more interesting to John.  Their bicycle physics tests were the stuff of legend and John proudly wore every scrape and bruise he received because of them.

      “That sounds amazing.  How about you show me what you’ve done and we can see what’s on the telly later?  Maybe there’s a good film on and you can go to bed a little later tonight since there’s no school tomorrow.”

      “The quality of television programming in this country is both appalling and boring.  I have no doubt it is an intentional attempt by the dictatorial government to keep the rabble de-energized so that the slightest hint of rebellion would be crushed under the weight of their ennui.”

      “A film on the telly it is, then.  Come on, you two. Mycroft will only be a couple of more days and, by then, you’ll have the results of your crowmography experiments to add to your portfolio to show him.”

      “Chromatography!  I am imprisoned by the intellectually-crippled, with no hope of escape!”

      “I’ll bake you cake with a file in it, lad.  Don’t worry about a thing.”

Mycroft tried the next possible place his family might be hiding and wouldn’t make a formal claim of worry when he found it unpopulated, but… where in the devil was Gregory and the children?  They knew he was to come home today… or not.  The actual date of return had been rather fluid at their last point of communication so it was feasible that they had taken the day to enjoy an off-premises recreational pursuit.

Finally, a helpful member of staff had directed him towards the small airstrip and it was somewhat to his discredit that he stopped the car some distance away to simply have the chance to watch his family at their play.  He and Gregory had never found the opportunity to create their race course, but, apparently, the boys had taken the initiative and crafted their own course, one with many various ramps, twists and turns… the children had been busy, it seemed, however… however it was now being used by his spouse and it was the most breathtaking sight in the world.  Gregory’s muscular legs pumping the pedals of a bicycle, making jumps and undertaking small tricks that Sherlock was busy documenting and John was cheering.  There was sweat drenching his shirt and his hair on this reasonably-mild day and… his smile. Gregory’s smile was large and unrestrained, nearly outshining the sun with its brightness.

Such an incomparable man.  A doting parent, a virile lover, an unbridled taker of joy from life… and he was his.  His Gregory, his beloved spouse… to know such a man was waiting at home made anything in his dreary days a tolerable act.  And now, he could partake of his spouse and enjoy the antics of the children.  Well, as soon as he came out of hiding and joined them, that is…

      “Mycroft!  You’re home!”

John ran towards Mycroft as soon as he stepped out of the car and gave him a tremendous hug.  Then a painful punch on his leg.

      “Why didn’t you come home sooner!”

Lestrade just smiled at his partner’s predicament and really had no compelling reason to jump in and save him.  Let Mycroft know just how much the boys had missed him, even if they might be a tad forceful about it.

      “Yes, I do apologize, John, however, matters required my attention and I could not turn away due to their importance and immediacy.  But I am here now… does that help?”

Mycroft knew his puppy eyes were absolutely not of the caliber John could make, but he made his best try and drank up John’s giggling as a soul-quenching reward.

      “I suppose so, but you had better be home for a LONG time or you can expect another punch and that one will actually be hard.”

Hard?  Good heavens, but John was becoming a formidable little warrior if he considered this punch lacking in vigor.

      “And you, brother dear?  Have you any vitriol to spew in my general direction.”

      “I am pretending you do not exist.”

      “Parsimonious.  I applaud your efficiency.”

And, saving the very best for last…

      “Gregory… how are you, my dear?”

      “Better now that you’re here!  We… well, we weren’t sure when or, honestly, if you were coming home today, so we decided to go with our plans and hope it all worked out for the good.  And it did!”

Lestrade lay down his bicycle and gave Mycroft his sexiest strut to watch as he closed the distance between them and gave his lover a kiss, making sure to keep most of his body, along with the associated dirt and sweat, away from Mycroft’s fine clothes.

      “I missed you, love. I missed you so very, very much.”

      “And I missed you, my dear.  Every hour of every day.”

      “Are you… are you here for long?”

      “Long enough to remind you how desperately I love you and want you with me always.  But…”

      “Here we go…”

      “No, it is not as bad as you might think.  I simply must make an appearance at college this week to deliver an essay and present my findings to the others in the course.  It is a minor thing and should not disrupt significantly our time together.”

Ok, not so horrible, then.  Mycroft might even be home by nightfall if he finished early enough.  What it was like to have his lover home for an appreciable length of time, Lestrade was beginning to forget, but he was very happy to be reminded of it at any time Mycroft saw fit.

      “I think I can live with that.”

      “Now, do tell me about today’s events.  That… I do not believe I have seen that bicycle before, my dear.”

      “Hah!  That’s mine!  Sherlock and John were having so much fun that I decided to join in.  I stopped in at the shop where we found the boys’ bicycles and asked if they had any second-hand ones for sale.  They did and, well… I still couldn’t afford one, but the shop owner needed a bit of work done around the shop and at his house and I traded the work for that old thing.  It’s a good one, though.  Sturdy and able to take whatever I give it.  Which is a lot when Sherlock needs data or they want to go riding somewhere that isn’t gentle on the wheels.  Or the bum.”

      “You are a masterful guardian of the children, Gregory.  Giving so greatly of your attention and effort for their benefit.”

      “And you can, too.  That shop has a lot of bicycles, so we can choose one for you so we all can ride together.”

Ride?  Which meant exerting himself to a perspirational degree.  Perspiring for a more lascivious pursuit was quite acceptable, however…

      “Look at you thinking about sweating and pedaling and sweating some more.  You’re so cute when you’re worried about getting dirty.”

      “If Mycroft but leaks one drop of perspiration, it means his body has reached the melting point of lard and he shall begin to liquefy where he stands.”

      “Thank you, brother.  Your concern for my welfare is always heartwarming.  Now, shall we return to what I am certain is highly important research?”

      “It is incalculably valuable!  Knowledge of the peasantry’s dexterity with crude machinery will be vital when the ridiculous anti-slavery laws are repealed and we may yoke their kind to carriages for transportation, extending our dwindling supply of fossil fuels for use by the more worthy members of society.”

It was good to know that, despite his brother’s boundless growth since acquiring a large and loving family, he remained at heart the boy he was born to be.

      “Then, let us get to it.  I shall observe if you do not mind.”

Which, of course, prompted Lestrade to lose his shirt and drink in Mycroft’s aroused gasp.

      “You watch whatever you’d like, love.  It’s going to be a great show.”

And, with that, Lestrade ran back to his bicycle and started pedaling around Sherlock’s test course, with John throwing in so he wasn’t left out of the fun.  His husband had been correct… there should be multitudes of diverse opportunities for each boy to enjoy their pursuits and the excitement, both of John and Sherlock, who was busily scribbling notes, was evidence of the philosophy’s merit.  And he could savor it all, at a distance from flung sweat and tire-produced clouds of dust.  Really, this was the way all lovely days should be spent – enjoying the sunshine with one’s loving family.

      “Lackey!  Perform a jump over yon shrubbery!  If your physical condition fares poorly on the landing, John will drag you to hospital.”

And sitting at the bedside of one’s spouse as they healed a fractured skull…

Two children fed, entertained, washed and put to bed.  One spouse naked and warm next to him in bed.  One body enjoying the small kisses being laid on its skin, softly and tenderly as said spouse again made its acquaintance.  Such was the nature of true bliss…

      “It has been agony to sleep alone in our London bed, my love.”

      “I know what you mean.  I’m here a lot of nights and nothing feels right when you’re not with me.”

      “Someday, we shall not have to worry about such things to this degree.  It will not be too long, Gregory.  Before we know it, we shall share the London house and truly make it our home.”

      “That’s going to be brilliant.  I should make a trip there soon, actually. It’s probably forgotten all about me by now.  The boys, too.”

      “A stellar idea.  Let us seek a weekend when you and the children are not encumbered by scholastic demands and my schedule permits it, shall we?”

      “We shall.  I know Sherlock and John miss visiting London quite a bit.  They have a fantastic time when they’re there and it has been awhile.   Let’s make it soon, alright?”

      “Of course.  At the very first opportunity.”

      “That’s what I like to hear.”

      “Enough to reward the bearer of glad tidings?”

      “And how does my bearer want to be rewarded this fine evening?”

      “Oh, I am certain you will think of something appropriate.”

Especially since your mouth is already doing lovely things with my skin.  Simply worship all available skin, especially the extremely sensitive and currently growing variety and I shall be more than happy…

      “Hurray!”

John leapt out of the car and ran towards the door of the London house, leaving Lestrade to hope that it wasn’t locked or the boy was going to be knocked cold when he collided with the wood.

      “John is mentally dysfunctional.  His obsession with running is unfathomable.”

      “Energy has to be burned, Sherlock, or it… well it does something unhelpful, so there we go.”

      “Does your shack of learning even offer courses in the life sciences?”

      “It might.  I broke a few of my clay tablets on the first day and may have missed something important.”

Sherlock snorted and far more regally, in his mind, approached the house, though Lestrade couldn’t miss the eager spring in his step.  The boys had been frantic to visit ever since they’d planned a weekend, had it cancelled, then planned this one in its place.  Mycroft had been home for two weeks after his last visit, then here for another two and the boys had just about used up their supply of patience.  If ever Mycroft worried that they didn’t care about him, the amount of upset they suffered when he was gone should always serve to convince him otherwise.  Anyway, might as well get his own arse out of the car and get this visit started.  Spring was starting to peek out everywhere and his mating season hormones were flowing faster than they ever had before.  Maybe that was because he actually had a mate now… shouldn’t have dropped those tablets or he might be able to read up on the subject.

      “Gregory!  Are you going to guard the car all day?”

His mating hormones had summoned Mycroft.  Nicely done.

      “Coming!”

Lestrade slid out of the car and put on his most wicked smile to greet his pre-fiancé.

      “How delightful you look today, my dear.  The children were not a burden, were they?”

      “Nothing out of the ordinary.  We had to stop for a few piss breaks because John drank too much juice.   And kept drinking too much juice.  Sherlock rode part of the way in the boot so he could work out how to escape if he was taken hostage.  The usual thing.”

      “Then I am certain you will welcome the brandy I have waiting for you.”

      “Oh yes.  I will welcome it gladly.”

Following Mycroft into the house, Lestrade’s senses started to tingle and tingled harder as they made their way further inside and into the library where their drinks were waiting.

      “You… you’ve changed things.”

      “Hmmm?  Oh, here and there.  Really it is more of a reorganization than a change.  Our stamp should be firmly on the house and a little bit here and there does the trick nicely.”

Well, it would be nice if he could have a hand in the stamping, but Mycroft did live here a lot more than he did so… it was a silly thing, anyway.  Who cared what the house looked like as long as they were here together?

      “It’s… yeah, it’s nice.  And there’s my brandy waiting patiently for me.  Very kind of it.  But, there’s something even more important I have to tend to first.”

      “Oh?”

Mycroft’s curiosity was satisfied by hard and passionate kiss Lestrade pressed to his lips and he quickly responded with a heat that warmed Lestrade’s heart, and body, very nicely.

      “Maybe the boys will go to bed early tonight.  I’m not going to lie… I need you, Mycroft.”

That such a magnificent man could desire him so greatly… it was something that still boggled Mycroft’s mind, but he was ridiculously thankful for it.

      “And it is both my honor and my joy to satisfy those needs, my beloved.  I have laid in a stock of films that I feel the boys will enjoy and that should keep them occupied while you and I, at the very least, have a small introduction to the remainder of our evening.”

      “You think of everything, don’t you?”

      “It is my stock in trade.  Now, let us have a seat and relax.  The children will join us soon, I suspect, and a few moments to prepare ourselves is certainly not amiss.”

From the growing volume of the noise upstairs, that joining was fast approaching, so the older pair quickly settled on the sofa, drinks in hand and readied themselves to meet the rest of the night in comfort.  The boys would probably start with some chess and they could share stories that their phone conversations hadn’t left time for.  Then the toddlers would watch a good film while they tore their clothes off and made fast, hot, rough love to take the edge off their lust before retiring later for the slower, warmer, sweeter lovemaking that would sweep away all the loneliness that had grown over these last few weeks.

      “John and I demand a beverage.  Something… red.”

      “I see.  And is there a reason you are specifying color, brother dear.”

      “Yes.”

      “And, may I know the reason?”

      “No.”

Just like being home.  Truly with the family in residence, any structure was home.  With Sherlock, that structure could someday be a psychiatric research center, so, really, it was for the best.

      “That was amazing! I love London!  And everybody knew who Mycroft was, so we got the best of everything!”

Lestrade ruffled John’s hair and smiled. Oh yes, Mycroft was quite well known, wasn’t he?  The restaurants they visited, the bookshop, the local pub which didn’t mind having kids in, apparently, as long as they belonged to Mycroft Holmes… it was right and proper, of course, but… but it would be ages before he could do that.  He wouldn’t be more than a visitor here for years and Mycroft was already building ties, meeting people…  no, that’s not where his brain was going to go.  He had ties and knew people at home, where Mycroft was sort of the odd one out.   The one who had to try and break into that world where he wasn’t sure how he’d fit in.

That was the right way to look at it.  At home, he was the established one in the community.  In London, that would be Mycroft and, just like his partner was becoming a part of their community at home, he’d grow to part of the one in London.  It was his own problem that it felt strange having people know Mycroft, call him Mr. Holmes, and not have a clue who he was.  When summer arrived and he took a little time off before joining the police force, he could come to London more often and let people get to know him, too.  Easy.  And the boys would have more time to visit as well.  Summer was just a few months away, really, so the wait wasn’t even a long one.

So, deep breath, you sniveling idiot and smile.  You have a man who loves you and nothing’s going to change that.  Not even the miles that stretched out between them sometimes…

      “This is amazing, Grandmama!  Thanks!”

Not everybody would want tires for their birthday, but the ones on his car weren’t in the best shape and he certainly couldn’t afford to replace them with new ones.

      “I am happy you are pleased, Gregory.  Your mother indicated it might be a useful gift and I do prefer to give items that shall actually see use and not sit in a closet gathering dust.”

Lestrade looked out the window where the boys were watching Grandmama’s chauffer swap out the tires so he could drive home with the new ones and smiled wistfully at the scene.

      “And how has been your birthday, grandson.  I trust you have enjoyed it fully?”

This look was from Lestrade to his mother, who carefully sipped her tea and maintained her resolve not to bring up the subject unless her son did it first.

      “It’s been great!  Can you believe the little monsters made me breakfast!  It was edible, too, with enough chewing.  And gave me some new music, which was a surprise.  Can’t ask for better than that.”

Avoiding Grandmama’s falcon-like gaze because he really didn’t want to be a mouse today and end up being lunch.

      “That is most astonishing.  But, perhaps not; the children do cherish you immensely.  And, tell me, what did Mycroft do to make the day special for you?”

      “Umm… well, the day’s young, right?  Sort of, at least.”

Lestrade grinned his most winning, isn’t-life-grand grin and wasn’t surprised Grandmama didn’t return it in the slightest.

      “Mycroft did not leave you a gift?”

      “Uh… maybe he did and I just haven’t found it yet.”

      “I do not count deception among your strengths, Gregory.”

      “No?  Ok, well, that’s good to know.”

      “Has there been a telephone call?”

      “Like I said, the day’s still young.  Mycroft usually calls in the evening anyway, unless he can’t, but that’s not his fault because he’s so busy so you can’t really blame him, now can you?”

The last half of the sentence practically raced out of Lestrade’s mouth and he sincerely hoped he hadn’t actually seen the look shared between Grandmama and his mother.  That look did not mean good things.  For whom, he wasn’t entirely certain, but the not good part was guaranteed.

      “I see.  Well, I do believe we have a little time before lunch is prepared, so why do you not spend the time with the children while your mother and I speak of womanly things.”

Neither Grandmama nor his mother were particularly womanly women, at least in that old-fashioned way ‘womanly thing’s was about, so the not good was about to begin.

      “Sure.  Two eyes on those two are always a better idea than one.”

Lestrade hoped what he did as he left the library wasn’t called running, though it felt a lot like running, just at a slightly slower pace.  He was so doomed…

      “Elizabeth… how upset is he?”

      “Miserably.  Mycroft hasn’t been home much, which Greg is trying to come to grips with but…”

      “Yes?”

      “He’s not calling as much either.  And when Greg or the boys phone, it’s even odds that he’ll be out or actually at home but say he can’t talk for long.”

      “Is that all?”

In for a penny…

      “Greg’s tried to visit in London, too, and been told no.  Good reason, Mycroft was working, but… it’s a lot and I won’t say Greg didn’t put a lot of hope into today.  He knew Mycroft wouldn’t be here and that hurt, but to have nothing from him to even say Happy Birthday?  Greg sent Sherlock and John to my house after their breakfast, supposedly to help me finish the cake I was making, but I think he just wanted a little time alone.”

The older woman tapped her fingernail on her teacup and looked out the window at Lestrade, who was taking time to change one of the tires, with John and Sherlock looking on closely.

      “This is a difficult time for Mycroft, that is something to which I can attest, however, he is not so inundated with obligations that he could not spare a moment to send birthday greetings to Gregory.  It is not impossible that it simply slipped his mind given the myriad of directions in which his attention is being pulled of late, but he must learn strategies to ensure such slights do not happen.  I will speak with him later and provide what advice I can on the matter.”

      “Thank you.  It’s hard to see Greg suffer like that.  He loves Mycroft, loves him dearly, but… it’s going to be hard for him to get used to being apart like this.  Being set aside for other, more important things.  He understands, but…it’s still hard.”

Grandmama nodded and reflected on her own experiences learning what it meant to be a Holmes.  No, it wasn’t easy, but Mycroft certainly did not need to make things more difficult than they had to be.  Yes, it was time for a small talk with her grandson.  They had not enjoyed one in awhile and now was an excellent time to indulge in a one of some length.  Though, for Mycroft, enjoy might not be the best descriptor to use…

Now what?  He was just setting foot in the door and the telephone was ringing.  Who could be calling at this time of night?

      “Yes?  Mycroft Holmes speaking.”

      “Which is a good thing for I was contemplating sending the police to find you as this is my fourth attempt to reach you, grandson.”

Grandmama!  Oh no, what had happened?

      “What is wrong?  The children, are they alright?”

      “And do you not spare a thought for your fiancé?”

      “What? Gregory!  You must tell me what is the problem!  Is he ill?  Injured?  What is the matter?”

      “No, nothing of the sort, though I would not say he is in the best of sorts today.  Of all days.”

      “Why?  Stop speaking in riddles, Grandmama, and speak plainly!  What is wrong with my husband?”

      “Let me see… does nothing in your rather impressive memory strike a chord about today’s date?”

      “I… no?  Well, besides the fact that I am considering scripting a rather stern letter to the director of the National Theater to complain about the atrocity I witnessed tonight.  Really, if they cannot cull a better quality of actor out of the masses who proclaim that as their calling, then the doors should be shut and the space used for a new museum or library.”

      “The theater?  Well, well, well… that is certainly a fine way to spend the evening.”

      “I found myself with several hours free and decided to use it productively.  A few of my cohorts from college were in the city for the weekend and agreed to accompany me.  Now, I shall surely have to write a series of additional letters, these, however, of apology for our deplorable evening.”

      “I see.  Taking in the arts with a cadre of friends.  Quite a change for you, Mycroft.”

      “I would not use the term friends, for it is undoubtedly misapplied.  Rather a few individuals who shall likely prove useful in the future, so setting a few hooks into their hides is a prudent measure.”

      “And have you any hooks left for your Gregory?”

      “WHAT IS THE PURPOSE OF YOUR CALL?”

      “Shouting will not put me in a more charitable mood, Mycroft, and my charity is something you might wish to value at this moment.”

Oh dear…

      “I apologize, Grandmama.  The day has been long and tomorrow shall be no shorter.”

      “I understand, but I wonder if it might be sufficiently short to allocate ten minutes to phone your fiancé and bid him a belated happy birthday.”

No.

      “Gregory’s birthday is not until…”

Oh no.

      “Has time, as they say, gotten away from you, Mycroft?”

      “No, it cannot be…”

      “We enjoyed a lovely day, if you are curious.  The children did their utmost to make the day special for your partner, though, it did not erase the disappointment of being forgotten by you.”

I could not be… this was a disaster!  He had marked the date clearly in his schedule but… he never looked at his schedule!  His memory more than sufficed, except… except when the issue was not immediately pressing, it appeared.  No… he could not have forgotten his spouse.  But he did.  Forgotten Gregory’s one special day and after the weeks, no, months, now, of neglect.  This was a catastrophic disgrace!

      “Was he… tell me how he was, Grandama, and do not spare my feelings.”

      “If you believe I am likely to do that, then your theater experience must truly have been more distressing that I perceived.  Gregory attempted most valiantly to present a contented and happy face to those of us who celebrated with him, however, it was a fractured façade, at best.  I do not believe the children were aware of the depths of his distress and I was even fooled for a brief time, but he could not maintain his composure when I inquired about your contribution to the day.  Elizabeth tells me that this was not entirely out of pattern, though.”

      “What… what do you mean?”

      “Are you maintaining a fertile line of communication?  I hear the answer to that question is no.”

      “That is untrue!  I… if pressed, I might admit that I have not been able to speak with Gregory or the children as often as I would like, however, you know well that situation and realize that I am not always the master of my time.”

      “True, but I will counter that you had quite a bit of free time this evening and spared not a moment of it for your family.  Will you offer a satisfactory explanation for that?”

      “I… I did not come home before I left for the theater.”

      “And do telephones not exist in that quaint little office I had set aside for your use?”

      “I had matters on my mind, Grandmama, and, I will admit, Gregory and the children were not among them.  I take no pride in that, but there is no other explanation I can offer.”

      “I see.”

The tone.  Grandmama used the tone which sounded most loudly her dissatisfaction and he could not claim to feel otherwise.  He had shamefully betrayed his husband and that was not something which deserved a mote of compassion from anyone, let alone Grandmama, who knew better than anyone else his ability to remember.

      “I am not offering defense, Grandmama, for my unacceptable conduct with respect to Gregory’s birthday.  I simply… I did not intentionally hurt him!  I have no… the thought of bringing pain to my husband is my own worst ache and I will do whatever it takes, you may rest assured, to rectify my error.”

      “See that you do, Mycroft.  We have spoken on this issue previously and also on the hazards that await you if you fail to actively maintain your bond with your fiancé.  I trust we shall not have to speak about this a third time.”

No… he would slit his own throat before he would render that necessary.

      “We shall not.  Thank you, Grandmama, for the information.  I will act on it with all due haste.”

      “I hope so, grandson.  Gregory will suffer countless pains during your years together… do not add to his burden the hurts that could have been avoided had you worked to avoid them.”

Mycroft was happy he had no opportunity to make a reply, given the termination of the call, for he had no substantive reply to make.  This was abominable.  And now, John’s rather strange conversation about Gregory having put a tear in his jacket and needing a new one made sense.  The boy had thrown him a lifeline and he had let it fall, ungrasped, into the ocean of despair in which he now waded.

No gift, no greeting… no statement of gladness that on this day the love of his life had been born.  And it was much too late to make a phone call now.  Gregory needed his rest after what must have been a trying day.  Tomorrow, though.  First thing in the morning, before even breakfast was had… he would make this right.  It was his duty to do so and he would do that duty to the best of his ability.  It was also his joy, something that eclipsed his entire fortune in terms of value.  Tomorrow… he would make his amends tomorrow.  And pray he could actually sleep tonight, so heavy was his black and villainous heart…

      “Oh, Mycroft… don’t cry.”

      “I am not crying… I simply am overcome with shame at what I have done to you.”

Lestrade wished he could pull his lover close and hold him tight, but that wasn’t possible across phone lines.  Mycroft was devastated!  Which should make him feel good about getting a little revenge, but it actually made him feel the opposite.  He hated it when Mycroft was upset, even if he had been the cause of it himself.

      “It’s alright, love.  You finally remembered, so that’s brought the scales back to level, right?”

      “No.  No, there is no balance here.  You were cruelly wronged and that is the only matter of importance here.  I shall be home in a few days, my dear, and I promise that I will shower you with the attention, love and devotion your justly deserve.  There is that small inn near the village of which I have heard, the one which boasts a fine menu and a respectable selection of wine.  We shall have an evening to ourselves and enjoy a romantic dinner away from the house and the children.  I love you, Gregory, and want desperately to demonstrate that truth, despite the insults I have perpetrated upon you.”

      “A real night out, just the two of us?  That would be wonderful, actually.  We haven’t done anything like that in a long time, so yeah… I’d like that.”

Salvation!  Though it was not nearly the degree of penance he needed to perform to clear his own conscience for his treatment of his spouse.  However, it was a start…

      “Then it shall be so.  And you will not object if I find something appropriate with which to gift you?”

      “As long as it’s not extravagant, I have no objection, at all.  It’ll be like having two birthday celebrations in one year and that’s one more than most people have, so I’m thrilled.”

      “Excellent.  And Gregory… I am ashamed that I forgot.  There was no reason for it besides not allowing, in my mind, proper attention towards your special day and that is not something I find acceptable.  I will not make the mistake again.”

      “Thanks, love.  I… I’ll admit I was upset yesterday, but I feel a lot better now.”

      “And I will do everything in power to never give you cause for this upset again.”

      “I know you will.  So… just a few more days, right?”

      “The exact number I do not know and I will need a day to focus on my studies, which have also not seen the necessary amount of my attention of late, but it shall not be long, my love.  It shall not be long, at all.”

      “Good, because I can’t wait to see you.  Do you… you probably have to go soon, don’t you?”

      “I do, but a few more minutes of your enthralling voice and enticing conversation will not put me substantially behind schedule.”

      “Oh… and what do you want my enthralling voice to talk about?”

      “My choice of topic?”

      “Absolutely.”

      “Well then… let me make this, as they say, worth my while…”

      “That’s what I’m counting on.”

      “HONG KONG!”

      “Gregory, please do not shout.  I have yet to take any sleep and my head is exacting a steep price for it.”

Lestrade gripped the phone so hard he was sure he heard it cracking under his fingers.

      “How… why in the world are you going to Hong Kong?  You’re supposed to be coming home!”

      “And that is exactly what I would be doing if it were not for… well, for a matter that cannot discuss, but I assure you that it is one of consequence.”

Of course it was.  It always was.

      “How long?”

      “That I cannot say, though not for secrecy’s sake, but for an honest lack of knowledge or expectation.  If I were to give any tentative timetable, I would place it at no more than ten days.  Two weeks at the most.  You must know I do not want this, Gregory.  I did my utmost to see the situation managed without a need for my physical presence, but it is either I or Grandmama and I am not content with her traveling such a distance for anything other than a recreational holiday.”

      “Ok… that last part I agree with, especially since she’s had a nasty cold lately and that’s not good when you have to fly, from what I’ve heard.”

Oh, that was rather news to him.  However, it had been some days since he had spoken to his grandmother and, no… it was not because he was still smarting from their last conversation.  One whose transcript was screaming in his mind and had been since he realized he must pack his luggage.

      “I know this is unfair to you, my love.  I know it well and clearly and… I will make it up to you.  For every minute of neglect, I shall repay you with plentiful interest.”

      “Yeah, I know you will.  I’ll tell the boys.  You… you should make a point of really finding something special to bring them from Hong Kong.  A good souvenir will do a lot to keep their fangs out of your leg.”

      “Very wise.  And I have not forgotten you, Gregory.  We will celebrate your birthday the moment I return.”

      “I’m looking forward to it.”

      “As am I.  Goodbye, my love.  I will see you soon.”

      “Goodbye, Mycroft.  I love you.”

Not that Mycroft heard because he was already off the phone, probably to get himself ready to travel.  Which, if it wasn’t likely to be miserable for his partner, sounded like a lot of fun.  Maybe they could do a little of that this summer.  Take a trip or two to someplace he hadn’t been before.  Nothing fancy, but just a chance to see something new and do something different.  That would be nice.  He’d have to mention it to Mycroft when he got back.  Whenever that would be…

      “It’s still wrong.”

      “John, you need to let this go.”

      “No, Mycroft promised you a nice birthday and he still hasn’t given you a present.  I don’t think he even remembers.”

Which was exactly what Lestrade thought, but that was not something he’d be sharing with John.  Mycroft had been doing a lot better with phoning and coming home as often as he could and something as stupid as a birthday was no reason to put a hex on their good luck.  Of course, his lover was still gone more often than he was home, but that was just the way it was going to be for a long time, so no good was going to come from fretting over it.

      “It’s not important, lad, so I do not want you bothering him about it.”

      “But, Greg…”

      “No, not a word.  It’s not like I won’t have another birthday next year, right?

      “It won’t be your first birthday together, though.  And you told me you did something nice for his birthday, too.”

Oh, that was a fun night.  They hadn’t been seeing each other for long and he’d had to ask Mum for a few quid to take Mycroft to the pub and, then, borrow her car to take him for a drive to a nice romantic spot, where he put down a blanket, opened a bottle of surprisingly decent wine for the price and they spent the night talking, kissing and being stupidly love addled while they listened to the tape he’d made for Mycroft’s present.  He’d begged albums from everyone he knew and made a tape of the very best classical and opera pieces he could find.  Mycroft had loved it…

      “Which doesn’t matter in the least.  Loving someone isn’t a competition.  Sometimes you get pampered and other times you do the pampering.”

      “So, when is it your turn to get pampered?”

When had John grown a pugnacious streak?  Oh, probably when he called London for the hundredth time to tell Mycroft about some victory at school and listened to it ring without anyone answering.

      “When it’s time and not a minute sooner.  Now, why are you bothering me and where is Sherlock?”

      “He’s trying to wash some dye off of his hands.  He was making slides for his microscope and… it got a little messy.”

      “What color this time?”

      “Green.”

      “That’s a nice change of pace.”

      “I’m going to try and get him to wear something yellow so he looks like a flower.”

      “It’s on his face, too, isn’t it?”

      “Just a little.”

      “How little?”

      “A lot.”

      “I’ll get the solvent.”

      “I’ll get the scrub brush.”

Ugh.  Why did he stay awake so late last night?  Oh yes, the boys wanted to watch a scary film and then had nightmares, which could only be remedied, apparently, by watching a funny film.  At least the little bastards were shambling as slowly as he was today.  Maybe that would teach them to listen to him when he said scary movies before bedtime was a bad idea.

And, ok… he knew he was probably hallucinating a bit due to lack of sleep, but that was the fourth person who had given him a strange look this morning.  Not that he wasn’t used to strange looks, what with the periodic summoning out of class and endless supply of new stories about Sherlock and John’s shenanigans, but this was a different sort of strange look.  Fuck it, it was too early for this, so full-force ignoring was about to commence.

      “Oh, hi Greg.”

Why did Georgie sound weird?  This day was going to chew him up and spit him out, wasn’t it?

      “What’s wrong with you?”

      “Nothing.”

      “Try again.  Your cock is going to fall off if you keep lying like that.”

      “You asked what was wrong with me, you bastard, so no lie there.  But… how are things with you, Greg?  Anything you want to… look, blokes aren’t supposed to talk about things, but is there anything you want to talk about?  If there is, I’ll… look, I’ll be happy to listen.  How about we grab a pint after class?  That sound good?”

What the fuck was he talking about?

      “What the fuck are you talking about?”

      “It’s ok, mate.  Happens to all of us.  Admittedly, we didn’t think it would happen to you, but… we’ll get that pint and talk, ok?  Look, I’ve got to go.  If I don’t beg an extension on that stupid science project, I’ll fail and my dad will kill me, but I’ll find you right after class, ok?”

Lestrade watched his friend dart off towards their science classroom and wondered if he’d fallen asleep at some point and nobody had bothered to wake him.  They were happy to give him those strange looks, though, evil sods.  Could at least be decent and jostle him awake before he got in trouble for sleeping in class.

      “Well, look who it is… Greg Lestrade.”

Diane.  Oh, his day had just leapt into a new level of hell, now hadn’t it?

      “Strange, I know.  It’s almost like I’m here every day or something.”

      “I thought you’d be at home sulking or pouting or hiding in shame, but I guess I was wrong.  I always did like that you didn’t care what other people thought.  I suppose that’s going to be useful now, though.”

      “What… what the fuck is going on?  Georgie’s acting strange and now you… well, you’re acting fairly normal actually, but, thank heavens, you’ve been avoiding me since I gave you the toss at the pub, so this is new.”

Ok, that was not a happy smile.  That was what they called a triumphant smile and that could not, in any way imaginable, mean good things for him.

      “Oh, don’t pretend you don’t know.  It just makes you look stupid.”

      “I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

Lestrade watched as Diane’s smiled took on a slightly cruel slant and she reached into her book bag to draw out a newspaper.  A London newspaper.

      “I always get a copy of this to read the fashion and society section, since I plan to move to London someday and mingle with the real people.  Imagine my surprise to find this…

A section of the paper was pulled out and thrust into Lestrade’s hands, which certainly were not recoiling from the unexpected gift.  Flipping through the first couple of pages didn’t satisfy his curiosity, but by the fourth page… well, that was a thing wasn’t it?  His Mycroft having dinner with someone at a fancy restaurant.  Nice photograph, too.  And another one of Mycroft and the same person at some nice function where tuxedos were the uniform of the day.  There was an article, too.  A nice article about Mycroft and his family and how it was great he was becoming a part of London society.  Being seen at parties and concerts, the theater and the opera.  Going to the right restaurants and hobnobbing with the right people.  With his good friend, Edmund Pierce, who was his ‘inseparable’ companion, always at his side.  Well… that was a thing, wasn’t it?

      “Looks like your bank account has found another playmate.  Not that anyone was surprised.  Everyone I showed this to said they expected something like this to happen, sooner or later.  It’s natural, of course.  Nobody that rich really wants a scruff like you unless it’s for a good shag and it looks like he’s found someone how will give him that and is presentable enough to take out on his arm around the people that matter.  Maybe he’ll keep you on as his nanny, though.  I can’t think of anyone else who would be willing to deal with those beastly children.  Oh, class is about to start.  You go ahead and keep that.  I have another copy or two for everyone’s reading pleasure.”

Lestrade had no idea when he was left alone, nor when the halls cleared of bodies, save for his.  He didn’t really even have an idea of when he left the building or got into his car.  He certainly didn’t have any clue as to when he decided to drive around aimlessly, burning through two tanks of petrol before turning towards London and fumbling his way to and through the city to reach his… Mycroft’s… door sometime long after the moon had come up.  He still had a key, didn’t he?  Yeah, he did, with the rest of them on his ring.  So, he could go inside, which was good because that’s where he wanted to go.  It was quiet, too, which was nice.  His head had been shrieking at him for hours and the quiet was a help.

It was dark, as well, which was also good.  That was easier on his eyes, which were stinging.  They’d been stinging for a long time and he wasn’t actually sure why.  However, there was noise coming from the kitchen, so he’d look there first.  Mycroft wasn’t cooking, he knew that much, because Mycroft never cooked, but… was he hungry?  He seemed hungry, but the thought of food wasn’t… no, don’t think about food.  Just…

Ok… that wasn’t Mycroft.  It was Mycroft’s dressing gown, though.  On a person who didn’t seem to have anything on underneath it.  In their kitchen.  Mycroft’s kitchen.  Looking for something in the refrigerator.  Ok.

Ok.

Lestrade left the house as quietly as he entered, stopping only to leave his key in a drawer of the small table near the door and decided a little drive would be nice.  Just a small one.  And when the sun came up, he still wasn’t ready to stop his small drive, so he pointed the car in one direction he hadn’t tried yet and drove for hours until a large, familiar house loomed ahead.  It was good to see it one last time.

Using the bell, Lestrade announced his arrival and waited patiently for the door to be answered by a staff member who was highly confused by his refusal to come inside and, instead wait for the lady of the house where he stood.  And the lady of the house was not slow in coming.

      “Gregory?  What is wrong?  I was told…”

Reaching up, Lestrade unhooked the pendant from around his neck, took Grandmama’s hand, placed the bit of jewelry in her palm and closed it gently before turning and walking back to his car to begin the drive home.  Yes, it was good to make one final visit.  You should always close a chapter properly before you move to the next one.

This was absolutely farcical.  A chimpanzee could see the way out of this ludicrous stalemate, however, the individuals involved had neither the intelligence nor the manners of a chimpanzee, hence the problem.  And he had two books to read by tomorrow for his political science course, neither of which had he begun… luckily, he should see his particular mess tidied within the hour and then could close his door and spend the next few hours digesting his academic material.  That would leave the evening free to put up his feet, sip a bit of brandy and…

      “Mr. Holmes?”

And be interrupted in his ruminations by a very hesitant-looking secretary.  Apparently the day’s overseeing gods were going to amuse themselves at his expense.

      “Yes?”

      “I… there’s a man here who says… you have to go with him.”

      “Pardon?”

      “He was rather insistent, sir.  Quiet and polite, but insistent.”

And, apparently, not one to stand on office protocol, however Edwards rarely was.

      “Ah, thank you… Daphne, is it?  I shall handle matters from here.”

Yes, do scurry away and leave me here with Grandmama’s henchman glaring the particular glare he reserves for those who have spilled tea on Grandmama’s rugs.

      “Come with me, Mr. Holmes, if you please.”

      “And if I do not please?”

      “I have instructions for that particular scenario and they are not to your benefit.”

Uh oh.

      “Very well.  Let us make a stop at home first so I might…”

      “Mrs. Holmes is here in London, sir, and waiting at your residence.”

Very uh oh.

      “Might I have a hint as to what is on her mind?”

      “And spoil her fun?  I think not.”

Extremely uh oh.  Well, he could use the ride home to script final amendments to his will.  Must make certain all the pesky details were in order.  It would be much easier on the family that way…

      “Ah, Mycroft.  There you are.  I must say… there have been a number of changes made to the house.  I can’t say I like them.”

Uh oh of the most astronomical quantity.  Must be calm… must be calm…

      “I suspect you are not here to criticize my decorating choices, Grandmama.”

      “Are they your choices, Mycroft?  Really, I don’t see your hand in them, at all.”

      “What?  Well… I suppose I have taken suggestions about creating a more convivial space.”

      “Oh… suggestions.  Yes, how collegial of you.”

Something was very wrong and Mycroft felt something he usually didn’t with his grandmother – fear.  Of what, though, he wasn’t entirely certain.

      “Grandmama… why are you here?”

      “To give you this.”

Mycroft watched as a graceful hand reached into a very expensive handbag to extract…

      “That… that is Gregory’s pendant.”

      “Oh, do you remember it?  I was of the mind that I might have to identify it for you.”

The coldness that ran through Mycroft’s blood put to shame the most frigid of arctic waters and he wondered how his heart could be racing when it was quickly being frozen in to a solid mass of ice.

      “What has happened to Gregory?  Is he… tell me he is not hurt.”

Or dead.  No… Gregory could not be dead.  Grandmama would not be radiating a coldness near to his own core if Gregory had met a sad fate.

      “He is very hurt, actually.  I would say, ‘torn to shreds’ is an apt descriptor.  And humiliated, which is its own brutal form of pain.”

      “I… I do not understand.  You are not making any sense.”

This time, Grandmama’s hand reached over to the small table by the library sofa and picked up a large envelope that Mycroft was just consciously noticing.

      “Perhaps this will help.  I do apologize for the, most likely, incompleteness of the record, however my representatives had little time to amass anything more comprehensive.”

Mycroft did his level best to keep his hands from visibly trembling as he took the envelope from Grandmama’s fingers, but that failed him utterly when he looked at the contents.  Photographs.  Lots of photographs and articles from the newspaper… what did it mean?

      “This… I still have no understanding.”

      “No?  You have no understanding of keeping close and extensive company with the youngest son of someone with whom I serve on several arts committees?  Margaret Pierce is a dear woman, though not possessed of the most cunning intellect.  I am certain she is most happy with this turn of events.  Your former fiancé, however, is not.”

      “F…former fiancé?”

      “Gregory is a man of dignity, Mycroft.  It is to be expected that he would object when he finds he has been cuckolded.”

      “NO!  How dare you say such things!”

      “Let us see… you have been spending an extensive amount of time in London, far more than is necessary for the work you must do.  You have distanced yourself from communication with your family, eschewing phone communications and denying their requests to visit you to renew their ties.  You have been photographed throughout London with this young man on your proverbial arm, as well as the flotilla of sycophants that he steers through the city.  What an active social life you have been leading, Mycroft… a social life that has pointedly excluded one specific person.”

      “That… that is untrue!  I mean… yes, I have not sat idly when I could make more effective use of my time…”

      “How facilely you phrase your abandoning of Gregory in such sterile terms.  Truly, it is a skill that will serve you well in the future.”

      “I HAVE NOT ABANDONED MY HUSBAND!”

      “Oh, then why do I not see any evidence of his inclusion in your merriment?”

      “Is it… am I not allowed any recreational time for myself?  Is it impermissible for me to seek the company of others to… I work tirelessly at your direction!  Can I have nothing for myself to make the experience more bearable?”

      “Is that now your excuse? You were lonely?”

      “I AM LONELY!”

      “Thus, I suppose, we have the reason for your infidelity.  Common and vulgar, true, but certainly not unique.”

      “I HAVE NEVER BETRAYED GREGORY!”

      “Then why is he never on your arm?  Why is London society aflutter at the news of Emma Holmes’s son finally stepping into the social spotlight with, how was it phrased in one periodical… ‘his bosom companion, Edmund Pierce?’  And in another he is your ‘dearest friend.’  I am certain you are well aware of social coding, Mycroft.  They will not say openly that this boy is your lover, for that is certainly not done, or tie you romantically, for your personal sexuality is not openly accepted in many circles, however, few are sufficiently blind to miss the message between the lines.  Why is your former partner not the one to whom the connection is being made?”

      “I…”

      “Why are there countless pieces of evidence of you enjoying yourself with Edmund and his circle and not a single flicker of information about you and Gregory?”

      “No, it is not…”

      “Not what?  Not what you wanted discovered until the children were out of school so his child-minding services were no longer required.”

      “YOU WILL NOT INSULT MY HUSBAND IN THAT MANNER!”

      “The insult is not laid by me, Mycroft.  It was laid on him by one of his own peer group when they shared… oh, that one… the newspaper account of your ongoing affair.  Apparently, his entire school was made aware of his shame and with the evidence of your continued neglect and now proof that your absence was not exactly an unpleasant one for you… according to Elizabeth, he is devastated.  Of course… this did not help…”

A third time Mycroft took something from Grandmama and blinked back the growing shock to stare at the key in his hand.

      “He gave you his key to the house.”

      “No, actually.  I found it in the table in the entranceway.  Now, I wonder how it might have gotten there?”

      “Gr… Gregory was here?”

      “Quite late last night, actually.  To confront you, I assume with the situation.  Imagine his surprise to find your ‘dearest friend’ in the kitchen, in your dressing gown.”

Oh no…

      “There… there was no impropriety.”

      “Oh, so Gregory overreacted to the obviously overnight visit of your ‘bosom companion’ when he, himself, is denied continually the right to visit what is actually his half-owned home?”

      “Edmund… it was late and he was rather… well, he had had rather a lot to drink, so I offered him a place to sleep.”

      “In your dressing gown.”

      “YES IN MY DRESSING GOWN!  I COULD NOT BEAR… I could not bear to have him use Gregory’s.  It is all I have… it smells of my husband, do you not see?  It has touched his skin and I when I touch it…”

The smallest thaw in Grandmama’s wrath was forming as she watched her grandson falling apart at the seams...

      “You could touch him, instead, but you deny him the honor.”

      “I DON’T!  Gregory would be… he would be bored to tears with all of this!”

      “Bored by nights at the symphony?  I do believe he described that as something he would treasure.”

      “Not that!  The… all that accompanies it.  The small talk, the insipid conversations that touch on nothing of import, but insinuate a legion of lies and gossip.  The vapidity of it all…”

      “Yet you embrace it wholeheartedly.”

      “Untrue!  I… I tolerate it, at best!  Every day I put the entirety of my energies into my work, my studies and… it is wrong to want, even if the situation is not optimum, some form of engagement?  Some… bit of time where there might, just might, be something to occupy my mind in a welcome manner.  To have… people… to whom I can point to say I am not alone?”

      “And, in none of this, there is room for Gregory.”

      “I did not say that.”

      “I believe it was implied.”

      “No, it was not.  Gregory simply… this is not a sphere in which he would be comfortable.”

      I see… just as you are uncomfortable with his friends?  The ones who do not open their arms to make you welcome and keep his head turned from you so that you suffer neglect?”

      “That is not fair.”

      “What is not fair is that Gregory suffers because you have discovered a clique that will allow you entry, even if it is only for the addition of your wallet to their revelries, and you have placed a higher value on that than the love of a man of quality.  Gregory will surely balk at the inanity of society, no person of intelligence and character would not, however, he would endeavor to navigate the ill to find the good and you have deemed him unworthy of the chance to try.”

      “NO!  THAT IS A LIE!”

      “You have excluded him from your life here, as you have, apparently, the children, as well, and enjoy what London offers while they sit at home wondering why they are no longer considered important.  Well, not Gregory.  Gregory is now very aware of why he is not considered important, and so is the rest of his community.”

Mycroft dropped into a chair and held his head in his hands.  This… this was… he had no word to describe it.  All the useless, pointless words he carried in his head and he had none to describe what had happened.

      “I did not mean to hurt him. And I never, never, betrayed my spouse.”

Her grandson was an amazingly talented liar, however, she knew even the slightest hint of untruth in him, none of which was present now.

      “Then you have choices to make.  You are young, Mycroft, and I can forgive much based on that.  Gregory, however, will not be so accommodating, and rightly so.  If you wish to salvage this, you must choose wisely and act swiftly.  Elizabeth is not certain whether she can even convince him to return to school after his humiliation, however, at present, I do not believe the children are aware of the breach.  If you choose to let it stand… then you should be the one to tell them.  If not… think carefully about what you want, Mycroft.  And, either way, tell Gregory face to face.  It is dishonorable to do any less.”

Mycroft was fairly certain he heard his grandmother leave, but he honestly didn’t care if she stayed to watch him weep until his body was dry and brittle.  How had this gotten so far out of hand?  How had he… no, it was easy to see if he but opened his eyes.  Grandmama was right… Gregory found friends easily but he… he could not even say now that he had found friends, but rather, he had found individuals who were willing to socialize with him and that was more than he had ever discovered in this lifetime.  At least, not without Gregory’s help.

But he had not intentionally excluded his husband.  Not… not really.  Yes, he had in the most literal sense, but not in his heart.  In his heart, he honestly did believe that Gregory would abhor the snobbery and lack of honest camaraderie, but… this was disastrous!  And to believe he was betrayed… to have it known amongst his peers that he was a cuckold…

Very well… Grandmama said choices must be made and made they would be.  His history of conduct with respect to his beloved was disgraceful and Gregory certainly did not deserve the pain and degradation through which he had been put.  He was a good man, a decent, honorable and caring man and he deserved better than someone who could not treat him in a manner befitting his character.  Yes, choices would be made and he would tell Gregory in person.  Grandmama was correct, it was extremely undignified to do any less and, though he had little dignity remaining, Gregory deserved every remaining scrap.

Mycroft took a moment to straighten his tie and neaten his suit, the finest he owned, then nodded to his driver to wait for his return.  He would not return, of course, the same man, that much was certain, but he could not spare a thought for that now.  All that mattered was Gregory and that, from this moment forward, he could hold his head high and go forth to lead a life that was a happy one.  One where he did not have to worry or feel insecure.  Where he was properly respected and honored as the half of a shared life.  His love deserved that and the best gift he could bestow was the freedom to begin that life now.

Walking with his head high, Mycroft strode forward to where he calculated his former pre-fiance would be found and hoped his gulp wasn’t audible as he pushed open the door of the school cafeteria and heard the noise level drop to an eerie quiet that sounded louder in his head than an explosion.  Looking around, he found the table at which the man he loved was sitting and mentally smiled an approving smile that his love’s friends were clustered around him and, now, budging imperceptibly closer in a strikingly protective pose.  Except for the one that was leaning towards him and snarling with teeth bared.

      “You’ve got no business here, Mycroft Holmes.”

Oh, he certainly had business.  He had to wipe the haunted look out of his Gregory’s eyes and return the smile to his face, regardless of the humiliation he might suffer in the process.

      “I believe I do, George.  Gregory… I am certain you do not wish to see me, and you are well within your rights to feel that way, however, there is something I must do and I prefer that it be done with witnesses.”

No, I don’t expect you to answer, my dear, but please do not appear so distraught.  Do not let those who disparaged you see the distress on your face.  You are better than are they.  You are better than am I…

      “I… I know what apprehensions you labor under, my dear… what stories have been spread and what evidence exists to support those stories.  I know the proof your own eyes bought you, though I doubt you shared that with your peers.  Did you tell them you found a man in our home?  Wearing the dressing gown belonging to me?”

From the eruption of gasps, Mycroft supposed not.

      “You have evidence and right to hate me, Gregory, and I will not say you are wrong to do so.  I will, however, lay myself bare so that you no longer suffer the scorn and derision of those who have been envious of you and our… well, what we shared.”

One deep breath and Mycroft plunged ahead, hoping he would make it through to the end without shaming himself with another bout of weeping.

      “Firstly, there was no infidelity, my dear.  I have never, not a single time, turned to another, not even when we were parted for what seemed an eternity.  I have loved you with my entire heart since first we met and that love has never been tarnished by betrayal of the intimate kind.  However, I will not claim that I have not betrayed your loyalty, disregarding you shamefully, though I continued to rely on your dedication to the children to keep the home we were trying to build a safe and joyful one.  I have spent these past months indulging myself in the cultural and entertainment opportunities of London, though the company I kept was not of the caliber I have known here, and the disgrace of that will dog my heels for as long as I live.”

If the assembled could not hear his frantic heartbeat, Mycroft would be greatly surprised.  But he had to do this.  His Gregory could not move forward if he did not clear the path to let him walk free.

      “I am not worthy of you, Gregory.  In truth, I do not know who could be, for you are the most loving, compassionate, honorable, vital and courageous man I have ever met.  You should not be burdened by my weaknesses, my neglect and my inability to treat you in the manner you so richly deserve.  And you should never have to be besmirched by my poor decisions, which are fodder by the treacherous among your peers for malicious gossip and sadistic glee at your ill-fortune.  You should never see your life diminished because of me nor have a heavy heart because of what I have done or failed to do.  It is not right and I will not permit it.”

No, my beloved… do not let your tears rise.  Mine are enough for us both.

      “I cannot promise that I will never again cause you pain.  Nor can I promise that I will not give you cause for distrust…

Mycroft dug in his pocket and curled his hand around the one anchor he had to help him make to the end of this in one piece and gripped it fiercely.

      “With another you could have a safer life, an easier one… a life where you knew each day what the next might bring and know that the joys and troubles you face would always be with your partner at your side…”

Unmindful of what truly disgusting matter he might encounter, Mycroft got down on one knee and held out Gregory’s pendant in his hand.

      “… but that partner could not love you as deeply as do I.  You would not be the other half of their soul and the reason their heart beat each day.  I can never offer you a perfect life, my beloved, because I am not a perfect man.  Far from it, in fact, but I can offer you a life where I try and I learn and I strive each day to be a better man than the day before.  I can offer you my heart, my body, my devotion… I can offer you everything that I am and offer it gladly.  You know my flaws, my beloved, you know them well and I ask you now, before those you call both friend and enemy if you can accept them and the love I offer.  The love which has never wavered and which I treasure above all things on this Earth.”

Wiping his eyes, Mycroft stared directly into Lestrade’s widened gaze and smiled as hopefully as he could.

      “Gregory Lestrade… will you marry me?”