Chapter Text
As Greg opened the door to his apartment to leave, his eyes fell on Mycroft's suitcase and his throat tightened.
During the three months of his convalescence, Mycroft had lived here to help him, and now that he'd recovered, his lover was returning home.
Three months.
Living together had gone surprisingly smoothly, despite their obvious differences and the cramped conditions of Greg's flat.
Mycroft had been incredibly considerate, and Greg seriously wondered how empty he would feel when he was alone in his apartment again.
Just the thought of coming home tonight and Mycroft not being there...
Not to see him in the armchair that had become, in his mind, Mycroft's armchair because it had become his favorite place to read the paper.
Not to see his ties next to his own less numerous ones, his suits next to his jeans, his umbrella next to the coat rack in the hall.
How long would it take for the scent of the other man to disappear from the sheets, the smell of his shampoo from the shower?
Greg sighed, there was no point in stalling, the situation was as it was, one problem after the other.
The first was getting back to work.
He took one last look at the bedroom where Mycroft was still asleep, then closed the door behind him before heading for his car.
Half an hour later he entered the police station.
"Welcome Detective Lestrade!"
He was greeted by hugs and handshakes from his colleagues. It was a really strange feeling; he was happy to finally be back at work, but at the same time there was this sense of uncertainty about Mycroft.
Once again, he tried to push those thoughts aside and concentrate on the here and now.
Which consisted of answering emails and sorting through three months of post.
So much so that he didn't notice the time passing until his phone on his desk began to vibrate.
He picked it up and was pleased to see that it was a message from Mycroft.
So, Detective, how was the return to work?
M.
Received 12:01
Nothing transcendent.
Just paperwork.
G.
Sent 12:03
On a more serious note, are you okay?
M.
Received 12:04 pm
Greg almost thought he could hear Mycroft's voice. That he could hear his worry and concern, and that halved his anxiety.
Yes.
It is a bit strange to be confined to office work.
But I guess that's to be expected.
Sent 12:06
It's just a temporary phase.
Received 12:08
What about us?
What is it?
They hadn't even talked about when they would see each other next. Greg was annoyed at himself for not daring to ask Mycroft to stay. To make this temporary arrangement permanent.
They'd been living together for three months. This was no longer a leap into the unknown.
I hop-
He deleted the message and sent another one.
I've got to keep working.
I'll call you later.
Sent 12:12
Coward.
He looked at the time and, thinking that he had been pretty efficient for a first day, decided to go see Molly.
Moments later, coffee in hand, he was about to enter the morgue when he heard Molly's voice, "Sherlock, not here, not where I work, I already told you."
"Molly pleaaaase."
Greg held back a chuckle as he heard Sherlock's pleading voice, having no doubt what the younger Holmes was up to.
Then he heard his friend sigh and then nothing.
You didn't need to be a mind reader to know that Molly had finally given in. After all, on another matter, Greg knew that it was extremely difficult, if not impossible, to refuse Sherlock anything once he had an idea in mind.
Greg patiently let a few minutes pass, then deliberately made more noise as he walked through the door to make himself heard.
When he saw Sherlock's hand leaving Molly's hair and his friend adjusting her blouse, Greg regretted not letting a little more time pass.
Sherlock casually asked in a slightly cocky tone, "Greg, what are you doing here?"
Molly tapped him on the arm and said in a tone of mild reproach, "Sherlock, please be nice."
Greg looked at them with amusement, then replied to Sherlock, "I came to see my friend for a little chat."
Sherlock intervened in a provocative tone, "Oh, there's already trouble between you and my dear brother? Can't stand him already?"
Greg was about to protest and come to Mycroft's defense when Molly interrupted Sherlock, pushing him towards the door and saying, "Come on, off you go now."
Sherlock protested a little, but it was clear that Molly had him wrapped around her finger, because she planted a light kiss on his cheek before saying, "If you're good, I'll make you dinner tonight," and Sherlock stopped protesting.
Once he was outside, Greg approached and handed one of the coffees he was holding to Molly, saying, "Looks like things are going pretty well between you two."
The young woman blushed slightly as she nodded, took a sip of coffee and asked Greg, "How about you? How has your recovery been going?"
Greg nodded, "It's fine, no problem."
"Don't be so enthusiastic, Greg."
Molly looked at him more closely and asked quietly, "What is wrong, Greg? Is it Mycroft?"
Greg sighed and replied, "Yes... and no..."
He told Molly how he felt, the uncertainty of their future relationship, his doubts and wishes.
When he finished, Molly took Greg's coffee and said gently, "What are you still doing here?"
At the detective's puzzled look, she continued, "Go and tell him everything you've just told me. If your relationship is as good as you say it is, go and tell him."
"But..."
"Right now, Greg!"
Greg nodded slowly and started to leave, then retraced his steps, planted a kiss on Molly's forehead and said quietly, "Thank you.
She winked back, "You're welcome, that's what friends are for," and Greg left for good.
Now eager to see Mycroft, as soon as he emerged from the morgue, he began to run, grabbed his phone and sent a message to Sally.
I won't be back to work until tomorrow morning.
Sent 2:12 pm.
The answer came almost immediately.
Got it.
Take care, boss.
Received 2:13 pm
About thirty minutes later, he was met by Anthea, who said as soon as she saw him, "I hope you're here to cheer him up, because he's in a really bad mood today. I've never seen him lose his temper as much as he did this morning.
Greg replied with a half smile, "I'll try."
He had his hand on the door latch and turned back to the young woman, "Is it possible not to disturb us for a while?"
Anthea gave a thumbs up and Greg entered the study without knocking before gently closing the door behind him.
"Anthea, I said I didn't want to be disturbed," Mycroft said without looking up from his desk.
Greg chuckled softly and said in an amused tone, "What if I'm the one disturbing you?"
At his voice, Mycroft raised his head and exclaimed, "Greg!" before getting up and walking over to him.
"Is everything all right?" he asked worriedly.
Once in front of him, Greg said with a calmness he was far from feeling, "Yes and no. I'm fine, but..."
He paused, not sure how to continue.
Then he heard Molly's voice in his head, "Tell him," so he continued, the words rushing from his lips.
"I... I don't want to spend the next night without you. I don't care if it's your place or mine, I want to see you tonight. Not just tonight. But every night. I know it's probably too soon, but we both know how fleeting life can be, so I don't want to waste another moment. After these three months, I have no doubt that I love you and that I want to spend the rest of my life with you and..."
Mycroft interrupted, "Then what's wrong? You said yes and no. Why the no?"
Greg replied, "Because I don't know how you feel. I don't want to put any pressure on you, but I had to tell you and I understand that-"
He couldn't continue because Mycroft had taken his face in his hands and was kissing him passionately.
When they pulled apart a few moments later to catch their breath, forehead to forehead, Mycroft murmured against his lips, "Yes to everything, and..."
He closed his eyes for a moment before continuing, his eyes in Greg's, "And I love you, too. I don't want to spend another night without you either. I've been thinking about it ever since the nurse told me you'd listed me as next of kin. I wanted it to be real right then and there. And these past few months have proven that we're quite capable of living together."
Greg smiled and said, with a teasing gleam in his eye, "There's only one question left."
"What's that?"
"Your place or mine?"
Mycroft replied quietly, "It doesn't matter, but in the end, what if..."
He paused and bit his lips.
Greg put his hand on Mycroft's cheek and said gently, "Tell me, Mycroft..."
Mycroft leaned his cheek into the detective's hand and replied, "What if it were not yours or mine, but our... home?"
"It's a deal," Greg replied before wrapping his arms around Mycroft's neck and pressing his lips to his in another kiss.
They stayed like this in Mycroft's office for some time and in their own world they didn't hear the door open softly.
Anthea smiled as she saw the two figures embracing and thought that the boss's mood must be much better.