Work Text:
The quiet of the Diogenes was Mycroft Holmes’s favorite place to pause and reflect. A steaming cup of tea sat at his elbow and the near absolute silence of the reading room was soothing. There was much to reflect upon after the weekend, and Mycroft needed time to process.
Mycroft’s mobile vibrated in his jacket pocket, disturbing his meditation. He pulled out his phone and rolled his eyes. Sherlock was texting him.
* Since when did you have any desire to form a friendship, much less a romantic attachment? -SH *
* What are you talking about?’ -MH *
* I’m talking about Lestrade. -SH *
* I’m busy. -MH *
* Should I expect a happy announcement by the end of the week? -SH *
* Don’t be ridiculous. -MH *
* I have evidence. -SH *
* What evidence could you possibly have? -MH *
An image was sent in reply.
“Smile!”
Mycroft looked up from the chaise on which he was lounging, reading a book and wearing his bathrobe. He smiled at the handsome man who’d instructed him to do so. Too late he processed the click of a camera phone. The smile instantly turned into a scowl. The camera phone clicked again.
“Gregory, what are you doing.”
“I wanted a picture of your adorable face, and now I have two.” Greg looked very pleased with himself.
Mycroft held out his hand, “Let me see.”
Greg looked up from his phone and hesitated. “You’ll delete them.”
“I just want to see the pictures.”
Greg looked back at the photos and considered this request. “Okay.” He handed over his phone.
Mycroft glanced at the first. A soft, silly smile was on his puffy face and his hair was mussed with that damn curl front and center. The second picture wasn’t any better. The smile was gone, replaced by a small frown that didn’t reach his eyes. He looked more amused than put out. “Ugh. These are awful.”
“No they aren’t. They’re lovely. You look relaxed, comfortable, happy even.” Greg reached for his phone. “Even your grumpy face looks happy. Do I make you happy?”
“You make me very happy, dearest. These pictures do not.” Mycroft tapped the screen a couple of times.
“Oi, what are you doing?”
“I deleted them.” Mycroft handed the mobile back to Greg.
Greg rolled his eyes and took his phone. He glanced at the screen and sighed. “I think you’re overreacting.”
“I do not, and I’m the subject of the pictures.”
Greg set his phone aside. He sat on the edge of the chaise. “Don’t they say beauty is in the eye of the beholder?” He leaned forward and kissed Mycroft.
Mycroft’s eyes fluttered shut and he allowed himself to be pressed back by the warm weight of the kiss.
“When I. Behold you,” Greg murmured between the kisses he peppered Mycroft’s cheeks and neck. “I see. Beauty.”
“We must get your eyes checked,” Mycroft replied with a gasp. Greg’s clever hands had parted the robe and were roaming his body. The book Mycroft had been reading slid off his lap and landed with a thud. No one paid it any mind.
“Mycroft!” Greg’s face lit up as he opened the door to his flat. “Come in.” Before Mycroft could set down his umbrella or take off his coat, he was engaged in a welcoming kiss that took his breath away.
“I missed you.” Greg murmured.
“It’s not been twenty-four hours.” Mycroft was bemused.
“Too long, and you know it, or you wouldn’t be here,” Greg countered with a wicked grin. He let Mycroft go, and took Mycroft’s umbrella and coat.
Mycroft looked at the coat rack with the umbrella stand at the base. “That’s new.”
“Yep, bought just for you.” Greg looked proudly at the piece. “Didn’t want you to have to cram your coat in my overstuffed closet and lean your brolly in the corner anymore.”
“That wasn’t necessary.”
“No, but I wanted to.” Greg led Mycroft to his kitchenette. “Tea?”
“Please.”
“What brings you by, love? I thought I wouldn’t see you until next weekend.” Greg filled the kettle and switched it on.
Mycroft settled on a stool at the bar that served as the dining space. “Sherlock contacted me.”
“Yeah?” Greg moved about putting together the tea.
“He sent me a picture.” Mycroft got out his mobile. “This picture.” He held up his phone with the screen facing Greg.
Greg paused and looked at the picture on Mycroft’s mobile. “Oh. Okay.”
“How did he get this?” Mycroft asked. He was curious more than anything.
“Well, I—“
“I deleted this.”
“Yeah.” Greg looked sheepish. “I emailed the picture to myself before you deleted it, then I made it my lock screen.”
“I see.” Mycroft turned the phone around and studied the picture.
“I’m sorry. You look so… cute.” Greg tried to explain.
Mycroft huffed.
“Are you mad?” Greg was clearly worried.
“Surprisingly, no.”
Greg let out a sigh of relief.
“I find I can’t be angry with you. You think this horrible picture of me is… ‘cute’.”
“It is cute,” Greg insisted.
“I look completely besotted, which is I think the point.” Mycroft tucked his mobile away and took a deep breath. “I am besotted, captivated, enraptured, and, in short, wholly in love with you. And if you like this picture of me, I suspect you feel similarly.”
Greg came around the bar and rested his hands on Mycroft’s hips. “Yes. I’m in love with you. I fancy you like no one ever before. I’m completely potty about you, Mycroft Holmes.”
Greg leaned in to meet the kiss Mycroft was offering. When they finally pulled apart, Mycroft smiled the soft, silly smile that was only for Greg.