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Only half an hour later, Bilbo stepped out of the shared sleep room. He had found some fresh clothes that fit him perfectly on his bedroll. It made him wonder how the elves had managed to fit those clothes to his body without any measurements.

Music echoed through the hallway, and the more steps the hobbit took, the louder the music grew. Bilbo felt his heart quicken. He was starting to feel excited despite his earlier displeasure with the whole idea of a celebration. It would most certainly do him good to let loose after those weeks on the road.

When he stepped into the hall, he noticed with surprise that, despite a certain dwarf trio, it seemed as if he was one of the last to arrive. He stepped further in, uncertain whom to join when his eyes fell on Thorin, who was resting against the balcony railing. The elves must have given everyone in the company fresh clothes. The soft-looking fabric enveloped Thorin's body in all the right places. Bilbo had to blink a few times before his eyes drifted up again. Just in time to notice Thorin's eyes on him. Warmth travelled up Bilbo's neck and even his ears began to feel hot. For a split second, he closed his eyes and a tiny whine escaped his throat. His fingers began to fiddle with the hem of his jacket. He was acting like a tween, all blushing just by meeting someone's eyes. Well, Bilbo thought, Thorin was not just someone, wasn't he?

With a sigh, he opened his eyes again, finding Thorin's eyes still on him. For another heartbeat, Bilbo stared at the dark-haired dwarf, debating whether he would be welcomed should he join Thorin and Dwalin. Something seemed to soften in Thorin's face, which let Bilbo finally take a step towards him. His heart leapt when the corner of Thorin's mouth twitched up the slightest. The hobbit took another step before someone, or rather three someones, came into view and stopped him.

Bilbo nearly scolded the three young dwarves who now stood in front of him. But only nearly because only seconds after he had recognised Fíli, Kíli and Ori, he noticed flowers in their hands. No, not just flowers...

"I knew you were up to something," Bilbo chuckled and a grin spread on his lips.

"Master Baggins, please accept this belt made of flowers as a sign of friendship," Fíli said, holding out a belt woven from flowers. His eyes moved between the belt and Bilbo's face. For a moment, Bilbo's eyes wandered over the many flowers.

"Have you braided it yourself?" he asked, raising one eyebrow.

"Yes, mostly, Ori helped me a bit," Fíli confessed, his eyes shortly drifting towards Ori, a soft smile on his lips. Bilbo brushed gently over daisies, lavender and primroses before he took the belt from the young dwarf and carefully placed it around his hip. He knotted it gently and looked up. Fíli's eyes had widened and an ear-to-ear grin was planted on his lips.

"Thank you, this means a lot to me," Bilbo whispered.

"I was struggling to braid something out of the flowers," Kíli explained, his cheeks a soft pinkish colour. "But please accept these flowers for your jacket." With tingling fingers, the Hobbit held out his hand and Kíli placed the flowers into it. For a moment, Bilbo admired the sunflower and the cornflowers that surrounded the bigger flower.

"Thank you, Kíli. If you want, I can show you how to braid with flowers," he said and tucked the flowers into his jacket pocket. Kíli's eyes lit up and he nodded enthusiastically.

"Yes, please."

Bilbo's smile widened and he turned towards Ori, who had not said a word since the three dwarves had stopped him. From behind his back, Ori pulled a flower crown.

"Where did you three even get so many flowers from?" Bilbo wondered.

"That will be our secret," Ori said with a childlike giggle. "I chose daisies, rosemary, buttercups and primroses for the flower crown. Please accept it." A soft chuckle escaped Bilbo's lips.

"How could I ever reject such fine craftwork?" the hobbit asked, bending his head slightly for Ori to place the crown on his head. "Thank you, Ori."

All three dwarves were now staring at him with wide grins.

"You three should have said something, I have nothing for you lads," Bilbo huffed, but the smile on his face never faltered.

"Master Baggins, there is no need," Ori said carefully, shaking his head.

"We did give you these flowers to show you how much we appreciate that you are part of the company-" Fíli began to explain.

"-and that we would very much like to learn more about you and maybe even call you a... friend?" Kíli finished.

"Friends?" Bilbo asked. He had not been anyone's friend for a long time. Back in the shire many other hobbits were friendly but Bilbo would not have called any of them his friends. "It would be a pleasure."

The three dwarves exchanged glances before they nodded along.

"Let's have a drink on that," Fíli said, turning towards the wine cask in the corner of the hall. "I will get us some."

Slowly, Bilbo started to notice his surroundings again. For a second his eyes drifted to where Thorin had been standing, finding the balcony empty. Bilbo wondered where the dwarf had gone.

The music had changed, and some of the elves were now moving elegantly to it, even as the music called for something more energetic. Bilbo's feet started tapping in rhythm with the music before he fully registered it.

"Well, won't you show us how you can dance?"

"Dear me, Master Nori! Would you please stop appearing out of nowhere?"

With a one-sided grin, Nori stepped into view from behind him.

"You are too easily distracted, Master Baggins," Nori replied. Bilbo huffed but couldn't deny that he had been distracted by the kindness of the three young dwarves.

"You can dance?" Kíli asked, one brow raised and a bright smile on his lips. Bilbo could only huff as he shook his head and walked over towards the dance floor.

"Can you dance? Are they really asking me this?" he grumbled under his breath, stopping a bit further away from the elves.

For a moment the hobbit closed his eyes and tried only to hear the music. Once more his feet began to tap to the rhythm of the music. It had been some time since he had last danced and when he did so, it had been with a hobbitess. But luckily for him the song the elves were currently playing was one he could dance alone to perfectly. His feet began to move on their own, and his hands didn't stay by his sides for long. They found their way into the air around Bilbo as he moved across the dance floor. He could make out Nori and his new friends at the side of the dance floor.

Without missing a beat, he danced towards them and caught the arm of Nori.

"Asking me so bashfully whether I can dance but what about you, Master Nori?"

Nori made a strangled noise but let himself be pulled along.

"I didn't enjoy the song."

"Oh, no such thing, Master Nori!" Bilbo huffed a laugh and pulled the dwarf further onto the dance floor. A laugh escaped Fíli, who was standing beside Nori and within a second Nori's hand had grabbed Fíli's sleeve, pulling him along as well. With a wide grin, Bilbo soon noticed that he was pulling four dwarves with him onto the dance floor.

"I don't know how to dance to this song!" Ori said helplessly.

"Take each other's hands," Bilbo chuckled, one hand already in Nori's and the other outstretched towards Kíli.  "We will keep it easy at first."

Kíli took hold of Bilbo's hand and the hobbit gently began to pull Kíli with him as he started to move in a circular motion. Luckily, Nori seemed to understand without much explanation and soon they were dancing in circles. With each round, it seemed that the dwarves and especially Ori, relaxed more and more into the dance. Even a small smile tugged at Ori's lips.

"And now come closer together," Bilbo said, a wide grin on his lips, as he pulled Nori and Kíli closer, raising his hand. The others followed and when all their connected hands met in the middle, Bilbo heard a light giggle from Ori. Fíli's eyes landed shortly on the youngest dwarf, a certain softness in his eyes and Bilbo's grin spread even wider.

"With the next change in the music, we will make the circle bigger again and then we will do something even more exciting," Bilbo explained as a giggle left his mouth.

A huffed laugh came from Nori just as they increased the size of the circle. Bilbo let them dance for another round until he let go of Nori's hand.

"What are you doing, Master Baggins?" Nori asked, one eyebrow raised. Instead of answering, he slipped under Nori's and Fíli's joint hands, pulling Kíli along. The young dwarf let out an excited laugh as he followed Bilbo. One after the other, Bilbo's dance companions ducked under Nori's and Fíli's hands and followed him.

For a long moment, Bilbo lost himself in the music and just danced, leading his dance companions across the dance floor.

Far too soon, the music changed into a slower song and Bilbo did so as well. He stopped at the edge of the dance floor and his dance companions did the same.

"I will need something to drink," Bilbo huffed, fanning with his hands some cold air towards him.

"That fast out of breath, Master Baggins?" Fíli laughed softly.

"I'm not that young tween anymore, Fíli."

"Well, that..." Nori began with a sly grin, but then he stopped abruptly, staring at something behind Bilbo.

Greg tapped his phone against the palm of his hand repeatedly as his left leg bounced up and down. Everything in him urged him to get on his feet and walk but after the nurse behind the desk had scolded him the second time for doing just that, Greg forced himself to stay put.

A sigh escaped him, and he leaned his head against the wall behind him. Just for a moment, he closed his eyes and tried to calm himself. It felt as if he had been waiting for hours, when it was barely an hour.

The sound of his phone pulled Greg out of his thoughts. He answered the call even before opening his eyes.

"Yes?"

"We got him," Donovan said without beating around the bush.

"Still alive?"

"Of course." A laugh escaped Donovan. "Wanted to put a bullet in his head when he realised he was surrounded. Now he has a bullet in his shoulder and will definitely face justice." A breath trembled out of Greg.

"Thank you, Sally."

"Of course, boss. I know how much that Holmes means to you."

And even without seeing Sally, Greg knew she had a wide grin on her lips. A huffed laugh escaped Greg. Sometimes it seemed like she knew more than Greg himself did... but she wasn't wrong.

"Have you seen him yet?" Sally Donovan interrupted his thoughts. With a sigh, the salt-and-pepper-haired man shook his head.

"They won't let me in," he mumbled. "He didn't go into the OP room, though."

"But?"

For a moment, Greg only stared at the closed door in front of him.

"This whole thing... this... attack came so out of the blue."

"Good thing that man was rather bad at it," Sally said. "And that you had one of your Sherlock-centred meetings over a drink."

"We weren't supposed to meet this evening but one of Mycroft's appointments cancelled last minute..." His brows furrowed. "He wasn't supposed to be home at that time... how was that criminal able to know that Mycroft's plans changed?"

"I will look into it," Sally answered and Greg heard the soft rustling of paper. "Text me after you talk to your Holmes."

"He is not my Holmes–" Greg protested, but Sally had already ended the call.

With a sigh, Greg lowered the phone into his lap. His eyes landed on the closed door in front of him once more and he wondered just how long he would have to wait until he could walk through that door.

Just then, as if something otherworldly had mercy on him, the door opened and a woman in a doctor's white coat and a nurse exited the room. Greg stood and tried to glance at the room but all he could see was Anthea. He took a step towards the door.

"Can I–?" The salt-and-pepper-haired man asked. Anthea nodded.

"Not for too long though. The meds are making him pretty tired."

Finally, Greg stepped through the door. He had just walked past Anthea, when he stopped once more.

"They got him. Sally is working on something... maybe you can help her?"

Anthea looked at him for another heartbeat before she began to smile with a certain sparkle in her eyes.

"Of course." She grabbed her jacket and closed the door behind herself, already tapping something on her phone.

Slowly, Greg turned towards Mycroft. The government official had his eyes closed and looked like he was already asleep. There was a bandage around his left arm where the attacker had shot him. Another bandage was around his head from when the attacker had changed tactics after he had missed the shot and decided to just hit Mycroft with the gun instead. Once more, Greg wondered how badly this would have ended had he not had his gun with him. He had missed the attacker but at least it had been enough to scare him away. A small sigh escaped Greg's lips as he stepped closer.

When Greg stopped next to Mycroft, the other man blinked his eyes open.

"Detective Inspector?" Mycroft's voice didn't sound as sharp as it had just a few hours ago and Greg didn't like that.

"We changed to first names a few months ago, didn't we, Mycroft?" Greg asked, a loop-sided smile on his lips but his heart was starting to beat faster in his chest. Mycroft blinked once, twice, before he nodded.

"Of course, Gregory."

"How are you?" Greg whispered, eyes fixed on Mycroft's bandaged arm. A low huff escaped Mycroft's lips.

"I had worse," he explained. But when he changed his laying posture for mere millimetres a quiet whimper left his words.

"Do you need anything?" Greg asked immediately, gently touching Mycroft's shoulder.

"No, I don't—" the injured man grumbled. "What are you even doing here?"

Greg raised an eyebrow.

"I wanted to make sure that you are fine."

"Why?"

How can he sound so irritated? Greg wondered.

"Because I have seen you go down after the attack. Because that fucking scared the shit out of me. Because I care about you, Mycroft, even if you think that's impossible."

Another huff escaped Mycroft's lips as he turned his head away.

"I'm fine. There was no need to stay this long. It's past midnight now and you already had a long shift," he muttered as one of his hands fiddled with the blanket. "What a fool you are." Something hot started to bubble up in Greg and he clenched his hands.

"Well..." Greg hissed. "...maybe I'm just a fool who loves you." Finally, Mycroft turned his head towards Greg again. His eyes were wide, incredulous, and his mouth slightly parted.

"I beg your pardon?" Mycroft's voice was barely a whisper now. A slow, tired smile spread on Greg's lips and a sigh left his lips.

"Maybe I'm a fool in love, but I'm not a fool to love you." Greg kept his voice just as quiet as Mycroft had a few seconds ago. "I understand if you don't feel the same and don't want to continue seeing me. Just know, I stayed because I deeply care for you. I would have waited all night and the next day just to see that you are alright."

Silence filled the room for a moment as Mycroft only stared at the salt-and-pepper-haired man.

"I..." Mycroft began in the end, his eyes never resting on one spot, "...never noticed." A chuckle escaped Greg's lips and he shook his head lightly.

"That's a surprise," he uttered and slowly let himself sink onto the edge of the hospital bed. "John was the first to notice. Anthea was probably suspecting something since last Christmas and Sally call you 'my Holmes' for two years now."

"Good God, did everyone but me knows?" Mycroft complained with a light huff. Greg chuckled once more.

"Probably."

A tiny whine escaped Mycroft's throat as he closed his eyes for a second.

"Well, that is rather embarrassing, isn't it?"

"Only if you make it so," the salt-and-pepper-haired man responded. Once more, Mycroft only looked at Greg before he nodded slowly.

Just when Mycroft's lips parted as if to say something, the door opened and without thinking, Greg turned, standing up abruptly as his hand landed on his gun.

"It's only me," Anthea stated. With an apologising grin, Greg let his hand fall from his gun. Anthea stepped further into the room and closed the door behind her. She took a deep breath as if to brace herself for the next words. "We suspect we have a mole and because you, Mr Holmes, were the target, it would be best if you relocate to your summer house until the threat is eliminated." An outrageous sound left Mycroft's lips.

"I will not do such a thing!"

"You can and you will!" Greg hissed, a tight pull in his chest. "What if next time the attacker isn't as incompetent as that one today?"

"But—" Mycroft tried to protest but when Greg raised a brow he stopped and let out sigh. He turned his attention back to Anthea. "I will take the lake house and I will be informed about every step."

"Of course, Mr Holmes." She turned and gave Greg one last nod. "Detective Inspector."

"Good night, Anthea." With a few long steps Anthea was at the door again and slipped through.

For a few heartbeats, Greg could only hear their shared breathing. Then, Mycroft cleared his throat and Greg turned his attention back towards the man in the hospital bed. The government official swallowed hard before he opened his mouth to speak.

"So, I am 'your Holmes' then?" Mycroft asked softly. Greg's heart jumped in his chest.

"Sally is teasing me with that," Greg explained. "I can tell her to stop if you want." A soft chuckle escaped Mycroft's lips.

"I will let it pass if I can call you 'my Lestrade'."

Greg blinked once, twice, before a wide grin spread on his lips.

"Is that so?" Greg asked, sitting down at the edge of the hospital bed. Mycroft's hand moved closer to Greg's hand, slowly connecting them as he hummed softly.

"Will you come with me to my lake house?" Mycroft asked after another heartbeat. A sigh escaped Greg's lips.

"I have work."

"Obviously, this can be arranged if you want," the government official stated with an eye roll. "And I will need someone to protect me." Greg started to chuckle.

"We both know that you can defend yourself just right."

"Touché," Mycroft said with a nod. "But I would like someone to talk to... maybe even someone to warm that comfortable but always cold bed with?" Greg's chest started to warm and he nodded.

"I would very much like that."

A soft smile spread on Mycroft's lips and he squeezed Greg's hand.

"Good."

Greg returned Mycroft's smile and watched him for a long moment. It seemed that the other man finally lost the fight against sleep. Mycroft's eyes fell shut several times before they stayed closed and his breath calmed.

Greg raised their intertwined hands and pressed a feather-light kiss on Mycroft's hand before he pulled a chair closer, settling into it. Only minutes later, Greg himself drifted into sleep.

When Bilbo woke the next time, the first thing he noticed was the warmth that surrounded him. A sigh escaped the hobbit and he pulled his blanket up to his ears. Then he heard Bombur snoring and the occasional grumbling of Dwalin. A small whine escaped his lips. He was in Rivendell and not Bag End.

Slowly, Bilbo's eyes fluttered open and none other than Thorin came into view before him. The hobbit sucked in a breath. His eyes were wide open now. Thorin lay next to the hobbit on his own bedding, close enough for Bilbo to feel the dwarf's breath on his hand.

His eyes drifted.

And he found it intertwined with Thorin's. The dwarf's hand was warm and slightly bigger than Bilbo's own. It felt a bit rough against the hobbit's skin, probably from all the hard work Thorin had done with these hands. It let Bilbo wonder whether those hands could also be gentle.

A sigh let Bilbo freeze. When he felt Thorin's grip tightening slightly in his sleep, he pressed his eyes together. The dwarf next to him began to stir and Bilbo did not dare to move, too afraid to draw any attention towards him. There was some rustling and it sounded like Thorin had sat up. Their still intertwined hands shifted.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then a soft groan came from Thorin, followed by a few fast but quiet words in Khuzdûl. And even though Bilbo didn't understand a word, it sounded oddly like swearing. The grip around his hand loosened and he was already starting to miss the warmth of their connection. His hand was directed onto the ground with a gentleness Bilbo had not expected. Thorin's fingers hovered mere millimetres above his hand for another heartbeat. A sigh, so quiet Bilbo nearly missed it, left Thorin's lips and the fingers slowly withdrew. There was some more rustling before slow footsteps went away.

Bilbo didn't move for another ten breaths before he blinked his eyes open again. Thorin was nowhere to be seen. The hobbit pushed himself up. His eyes fell onto the hand that had held Thorin's just minutes ago. It still felt as though their hands were still connected.

With a bit more force than necessary, Bilbo shook his head and rubbed his hands together. He would not find sleep again.

His stomach began to grumble and the hobbit wondered whether he could dare to sneak into Elrond's kitchen. With a hand on his stomach, he stood and tiptoed out of their resting room. With a soft huff, he noticed just how much of the comfortable softness he had lost since leaving the shire.

He had found the kitchen soon, and after some struggling, was boiling some water for tea. A soft melody began to form in his throat as he smelled every tea the elves had. After he had sniffed the sixth one, he came back to the first one. When the water started to boil, Bilbo transferred the hot water into a teapot, nearly as large as his head and added his chosen tea to it. As he waited for his tea to be ready, he sat down in the chair he had stood on. He let his legs swing, the soft melody still on his lips.

An elf stepped in and stopped in his tracks. Bilbo remembered vaguely that Elrond had introduced him as one of the most skilled cooks in Rivendell.

"I hope it's alright I came here and made myself some tea."

"Of course, Master Baggins," the elf said, his voice deep and smooth. "As a guest of Elrond, you are welcome to walk wherever you please."

A sigh escaped Bilbo and he nodded. A soft grumbling of his stomach filled the room. Bilbo felt his cheeks warming. Even his ears felt hot.

"Would you like some honey nut cake?"

The hobbit's mouth watered.

"You have some?"

A smile tugged at the elf's lips.

"You would be surprised how many different things lie in our pantry," he said and walked through a different door. Curious, Bilbo leaned forward in his seat, but the elf stepped back into the kitchen only seconds later. He balanced two pieces of honey nut cake and an apple on a plate.

"Thank you," Bilbo muttered. The elf set the plate in front of the hobbit.

"You may call me Calenion, Master Baggins." Bilbo's smile widened as he nodded.

"Then feel free to call me Bilbo, Calenion." Calenion nodded, a smile still present on his lips and stepped aside. It seemed as if he was starting to prepare breakfast. Bilbo watched him for a moment longer before he turned his attention back to the food.

As Bilbo enjoyed his honey nut cake and apple, more and more elves arrived. Soon, the kitchen was filled with quiet Sindarin. And even after Bilbo had finished eating, he stayed seated and watched them work, wondering once more whether he would be allowed to cook or bake something himself. He missed it. Cooking just for the sake of cooking and not to feed fourteen other hungry mouths on the road.

After his second breakfast, Bilbo decided to see what the others of the company were doing. The hallway was quiet as he took a turn, walking in a direction still unknown to him. He had always thought his smial had been large, but Elrond's house was bigger than anything Bilbo had ever seen. It would probably take more than a week before one could walk these halls without getting lost. A grin tugged at Bilbo's lips. For Thorin, it would probably take even longer not to get lost.

The hobbit had just passed a door when he heard soft chattering in Khuzdûl. One particular word let Bilbo stop. He had heard the word 'malkun*' more than once during their journey and even as the dwarves tried their best to keep their language a secret, Bilbo was not stupid. It had taken him exactly three days until he had realised that 'malkun' was somehow referring to him. Dwalin had mumbled it just as much as Thorin used the word burglar for Bilbo instead of his real name.

Bilbo peeked into the room. The gentle smell of old paper and the warm sunlight peeking through the windows welcomed him.

"I see you have found the library," he said with a grin. Kíli flinched and turned his head sharply. At the same time, Ori let out a surprised scream and Kíli slammed the book shut that they had all been studying.

"Dear me, you look like you have done something forbidden." He stepped in slowly, his grin widening as his eyes fell on the small illustration of a flower on the spine of the book.

"We haven't heard you arrive," Ori said, his hands smoothing the pullover.

"Please forgive me." Bilbo stopped next to the youngest dwarf in the company and lay a hand on his shoulder. "Have you found what you have been looking for?" Kíli's eyes darted to his older brother. Fíli cleared his throat and then nodded.

"We will only need to..." Fíli stopped mid-sentence. He cleared his throat. "Yes, we found what we were looking for." The smile on Bilbo's lips widened and he nodded. For a moment, he watched the three young dwarves, wondering what exactly they were planning. By the looks they shared, Bilbo would know rather sooner than later.

With a nod, he turned and walked further into the library. It was strange to do nothing after weeks of walking and struggling to survive. Bilbo was still surprised that Thorin had announced a longer rest than just one night. It was the first time Bilbo had witnessed such a thing.

Out of the corner of his eye, a book caught his attention. It sat heavily in his hands when he pulled it from the shelf. For a moment, Bilbo laid the book on the armchair before he followed suit and crawled onto it. A sigh escaped his lips as he settled into the cushions. He pulled the book onto his thighs, opened it and began to read about different kinds of stones.

Time had passed rather quickly as Bilbo read about stones, gems and crystals. After some time, a dangerous thought had begun to spread inside his mind. He didn't even know why his thoughts suddenly went wild and decided to imagine what would happen if Bilbo gifted a certain dwarf a stone. It would most likely result in him being fired from the company. He might have hoped for something like that in the first few days of their journey. Now though, he feared the moment Thorin might change his mind about him. Thorin was clearly thinking about it.

Bilbo took the last sip from his afternoon tea, which had already gotten cold. He closed the book and pushed it from his lap. With a huff, he slid from the armchair and placed the book where he had taken it from. He heard soft laughter here and there coming from the balconies and sitting rooms as he walked towards the company's restrooms. Once more since arriving in Rivendell Bilbo wondered what it would be like to stay here.

"Master Baggins," Nori said out of nowhere, which made Bilbo flinch.

"Dear me," Bilbo uttered and turned his head towards the dwarf, his hand over his heart. Nori was leaning against a pillar, his arms crossed over his chest. A grin spread on Nori's lips.

"You really are rather jumpy for a burglar," he chuckled and pushed himself away from the pillar. Bilbo let out a snort and shrugged. He knew that Nori, as a former thief, had probably seen through the lie Gandalf had told the company about him within the first few days of their journey.

Nori stopped next to him, his brown eyes seemed to scan over the hobbit's face.

"The elves invited all of us to an-", the dwarf said and waved one hand in the air as he continued "-evening celebration." Bilbo was all for celebration, for connecting with others and for having a joyful evening, but his bones still felt heavy from the weeks-long travel, even after a good night's sleep. He was not sure how long he would manage to keep his eyes open.

"So soon after yesterday?" the hobbit asked, because the shared dinner with the elves was close to a celebration. Nori chuckled.

"Aren't Hobbits all for a joyful party?"

Bilbo rolled his eyes but he couldn't be mad at Nori.

"Hobbits are also all for a comfortable evening."

"Well, get ready for music and some dancing," the dwarf said, a wide grin on his lips. "You can dance, right?"

"Oh, you unbelievable dwarf, can I dance? Of course, Master Nori! I can not believe you even considered I might not be able to dance." Bilbo huffed and pressed one hand against his hip. "Unbelievable!"

A deep belly laugh escaped Nori's lips and his eyes were shining.

"Please forgive me, Master Baggins," he said, his voice light. Bilbo stared at the dwarf before a smile spread on his lips, despite his best effort to hide it.

"Yes, yes, of course," he huffed half-heartedly, the smile never leaving his lips.

With a grin, Nori turned and started to walk. It only took a second before Bilbo followed him.

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The sun had set over Rivendell as Bilbo Baggins walked through one of the gardens. The flowers were in full bloom and his fingers itched to touch them, to pick them and to braid them into a thick flower crown. A sigh escaped him as he took in the intoxicating smell of them. It had been quite some time since he had had the chance to stop and notice those things. A smile spread across his lips as his fingers brushed over the soft green petals of the fern right next to the footpath.

Footsteps behind Bilbo let him freeze for a moment. After being on the road for so long, he just wanted some time alone. Only a few minutes of silence without any of the dwarves speaking. Or rather cursing Gandalf for having invited Bilbo on this quest. A few of them had stopped after the incident with the trolls. Others, Bilbo knew, still thought little of him. And could he really be mad at them for that? He himself had wished more than once to be back home, with his books and his armchair. However, that wouldn't happen anytime soon. If that ever happened at all...

Bilbo shook the thought out of his mind and turned to find Kíli stopping a few feet away. Bilbo raised one eyebrow and tilted his head slightly. Within the first few days of their journey, he had noticed that Fíli and Kíli came as a pair. Therefore, Bilbo was surprised that the young dwarf came alone. Kíli didn't speak right away. He cleared his throat and rubbed his hands against his trousers.

"Oh my, Kíli, you look like a fauntling who had done something wrong. What's the matter with you?" Bilbo asked, when it was clear that the dwarf wouldn't speak first.

"Didn't want to interrupt your... time alone."

A huffed laugh escaped Bilbo and he waved his hand.

"You have not." Yes, you did, but what would Bilbo get from such words other than a sorry Kíli? A breath trembled out of the young dwarf. His back straightened and a grin appeared on his lips. He stepped forward and Bilbo had to force down a groan. That had not been his intention.

"What are you doing?"

"Enjoying the garden..." Bilbo explained, his fingers brushing over creme coloured petals. "The flowers." Kíli stopped next to him, his eyes planted on the flowers.

"Are they important to you?"

Bilbo raised an eyebrow and he wiggled his nose.

"I don't know these," he mumbled. "But yes, flowers in general are very important to me. Probably for every hobbit."

A soft hum left Kíli's lips.

"Why?"

For a moment, Bilbo stared at the dwarf, doubting whether the other really meant the question.

"Why?" he repeated the question, one eyebrow raised. "Because they are life. They are beautiful, so delicate." Bilbo's eyes drifted from Kíli to the bed of flowers. "If you don't take care of them, if you don't cherish them, they will die." The hobbit cleared his throat and smiled at Kíli as best as he could. "Every flower has its own meaning. You can tell someone you are sorry with flowers or that you value their friendship. You can tell someone that you despise them with the right flowers. Even if you want to tell someone that you are deeply, utterly, in love with them, you can..." Bilbo felt his cheeks warming and wiggled his nose. "Well, you know what I mean."

Kíli nodded, and for a moment Bilbo already thought the young dwarf had heard enough. Then he opened his mouth again.

"We similarly use gemstones," he mumbled with a grin. "Which flower means what?"

Bilbo huffed and shook his head. His left hand found its way towards his hip.

"Do I look like a book for botany?"

"Of course not, Master Baggins!" Kíli said hurriedly and his shoulders tensed. A snort escaped Bilbo's throat as he watched the young dwarf. It took a moment before Kíli seemed to relax once more.

"Have you ever received flowers that symbolised lov-"

"Kíli!" A shout came from farther down the hallway. Dwalin stood there, eyebrows furrowed. "You were supposed to get the burglar, not talk to him." With wide eyes, Kíli turned to Bilbo again.

"Yes, right," he mumbled. "Dinner is ready."

Bilbo blinked once, twice. They had had dinner with the elves two hours ago. Not that he was complaining about the possibility of more food, but he almost certainly knew that dwarves didn't eat seven meals a day. Not like hobbits do. Kíli must have noticed Bilbo's confusion.

"Most of the company is still hungry after the leaves the elves served us." A snort left Bilbo's lips. He had seen the glances between the dwarves, had seen the way Gloin had chewed on the leaves as if they were something poisoned. Bombur ate them nonetheless, he had looked happy but Bilbo could also understand why the dwarf was most likely still hungry. He himself was starting to get hungry again. With one last glance at the flowers, Bilbo stepped forward towards Dwalin. After a second he heard Kíli follow.

When Bilbo and the two dwarves walked into the rooms the company would be staying in, Bombur was already filling bowls with soup. And to the hobbits big surprise, they had cooked without him. He was aware that they must have been capable of it. Ever since he had joined, it had been him cooking for them all. He hadn't been satisfied with it, though. It wasn't even real meals with how little he had at hand. Perhaps he would ask Elrond if he could access his pantry. He would give a whole lot for a real, warm, comfortable dish.

Bilbo walked into their rooms right after Dwalin and was rather overwhelmed by the sudden noise. His ears wiggled as they took in the loud laughter, the shouting which could hardly be considered a conversation and some music playing in the background.

"Master Baggins!" Bombur shouted, as his eyes fell on the hobbit. He waved at him to come closer and pressed two warm bowls into his hand. It looked suspiciously like lentils and potatoes. Bilbo suppressed a groan. It was exactly what they had had for the last two weeks.

"Take this to Thorin and Balin. They are looking at some maps in the study." With a huff, the Hobbit nodded and turned. Would he ever be someone other than the footman? 

Bilbo knew only vaguely where the study was. With every step he walked, the noise behind him faded bit by bit. A small sigh escaped his lips. Soon only his quiet footsteps were audible in the tall halls.

"He should stay here." Bilbo stopped when he heard Thorin's voice. "He is slowing us down."

"We would have been dead if Bilbo hadn't distracted those trolls," Balin huffed.

"And who got us into the whole situation? He let himself get caught!"

Bilbo tensed at Thorin's harsh words and the bowls in his hands started to tremble.

"Stop being so hard on him, Thorin."

"He is a distraction we don't need on this quest."

Balin began to chuckle.

"A distraction?" he repeated, a sudden softness in his voice. "For whom? Not for any of the company. Perhaps only for you, Thorin."

For a moment, all Bilbo heard was silence and he wondered what was happening inside the study.

"I will not hear another word of your nonsense."

Suddenly the door was pulled open, and Thorin would have walked straight into him had Bilbo not stepped aside just in time.

"Master Baggins," Thorin breathed as his eyes widened. "How long...?" He started but Bilbo cut him off.

"Bombur asked me to bring you your meals. He said Balin and you were busy in the study. You must have been in there for hours. That's not really responsible. It had been a long way so far and you should rest for some time..." Bilbo closed his mouth. He was rambling and it wasn't doing him any favour.

"Thank you, Bilbo," Balin said as he came into view next to Thorin. He pushed him slightly aside. With a gentle smile, he took the bowls out of Bilbo's hands and pressed one into Thorin's hands.

"We were just thinking of taking a break," Balin explained, his gaze briefly drifting to the other dwarf. "We will come with you."

Bilbo's throat left a surprised sound, but he nodded.

"Of course, of course." For another moment, Bilbo didn't move, but then he turned and started walking back to where he had come from. It took a few steps until he heard the sound of heavy boots follow. Bilbo forced a deep breath out. This was fine. Everything was fine.

When Bilbo returned to the noise, Bombur pushed something into his hands.

"For you, Bilbo." It was a bowl full of a warm meal.

Taken aback, Bilbo stopped in his tracks and suddenly a warm body pressed against his back. A shiver ran down his spine. The bowl nearly fell from his hands.

"By Mahal," Thorin's deep voice huffed near Bilbo's ear. "I did not expect that sudden stop, Master Baggins." Bilbo had expected Thorin to move away as if the hobbit had burned him. But to his utter surprise, Thorin stayed behind him for a heartbeat before he stepped back. His hand softly patted Bilbo's shoulder. He stared after the dwarf as he walked further into the room, taking a seat next to Dwalin. Bilbo blinked a few times.

His eyes wandered over the dwarfs and he wondered whether he could dare to sit with one of them. This was different from the nights somewhere on the road. There, they had all stayed close to each other, close to the fire. Now they were splattered across the room.

"Master Baggins!"

Bilbo turned his head towards the voice, finding Kíli waving at him. The young dwarf was sitting between Fíli and Ori. The hobbit hesitated for a moment before he turned towards the trio. Something warmed inside his heart when he saw the smiles that spread across heir lips. With a few deliberate steps, he was in front of them and sat down.

"Do you think Elrond will let us in his library?" Fíli asked, even before Bilbo was able to take his first bite. With a chuckle, he did just that and let the young dwarf wait.

"Why would you even want to get in there?"

Bilbo noticed the shared glances. He raised one eyebrow and his nose twitched. Something was going on and he couldn't get behind it yet.

"Certainly a person can't be a book, so we need to read what we seek to know in a library," Kíli explained with a wide grin.

"That sounded almost poetic, nadadith*," Fíli chuckled and Ori started to softly laugh as well. As he watched the trio, Bilbo felt happy that despite their uncertain mission, the young dwarves found something to laugh about.

"If you asked nicely, I'm sure Elrond will let you in," Bilbo said after another spoonful. A gentle smile on his lips. Kíli nearly jumped from his seat as if he was ready to ask Elrond now, but Fíli held him down with a laugh. Ori said something in Khuzdûl and soon they whispered with each other excitedly. And even as he didn't understand a thing, Bilbo didn't feel left out. With a smile he watched them nodding, whispering and laughing. Soon his bowl was empty and he leaned back against the wall.

Time passed rather quickly and when Bilbo's eyes started to feel heavy, he bid the young dwarves farewell. His feet carried him into the room Elrond had cleared for the company to sleep in. The bedding looked soft and there were even blankets... more than one for each bed. Excitedly, Bilbo padded forwards and found his bedding; a clean set of clothes lay on the bottom of it. A light sound left his throat as he changed into the clothes. He crawled under the blankets. It felt nearly as if he was back at Bag End. With a satisfied hum, he adjusted the blankets once more before he closed his eyes. And for the first time in weeks, Bilbo was able to fall asleep within minutes.

The fire was crackling in the quiet room. Greg turned his half-empty glass of scotch. It wasn't his first one and it would not be his last. He wasn't quite sure how he ended up in Mycroft's study. Private study at his house. Mycroft had invited him over.

It wasn't that he was unhappy about it. Greg had not expected the other man to invite him over to celebrate the end of Greg's marriage. Yes, it was something to celebrate... kinda.

Greg was now free from the woman who thought cheating was alright as long as she didn't get caught and if she got caught would blame it on Greg's inability to satisfy her.

A tiny part of Greg though was yearning for closeness. He was missing the gentleness and care he had received from his now-ex-wife at the beginning of their marriage, before everything went downhill.

A sigh left Greg's lips, directing Mycroft's attention towards him. Mycroft had made himself comfortable in his chair, eyes only half open when he stared at the other man.

"A penny for your thought?" he said quietly before raising his glass towards his lips. Greg gently swirled his own glass, not rushing with an answer.

"My marriage... the shitshow of the divorce..." Greg confessed after a moment. "... and what I will do now as a free man."

A warm, deep hum left Mycroft's lips.

"Yes, the freedom of being alone."

Greg's lips twitched and a light grin spread on his lips without wanting to.

"Speaking from experience?" Greg chuckled. Mycroft's eyes drifted towards the fire.

"I have to confess, I have never had anything else. Not that I haven't had the chance to experience certain things..." Mycroft heaved a sigh as he pressed two fingers against the bridge of his nose. "... but I wouldn't say, I had the pleasure of having someone close, feeling the gentleness from them–the love."

Slowly, Greg nodded, his throat tight as he let Mycroft's words sink in.

"Is that something you wish for?" As soon as those words left Greg's lips, he wanted to push them back in. How stupid of him. Greg closed his eyes for a moment and a breath trembled out of him.

"All my life, I only ever knew work. It never occurred to me that such a foolish thing as romantic feelings would ever become relevant to me." Mycroft stopped for a moment as he cleared his throat. "But now, years later, I have to admit, that I have been utterly wrong."

Slowly, Greg opened his eyes again, finding stormy eyes already looking at him. Mycroft swallowed visibly but then continued. "The older I get the more it seems that my hopeless heart yearns for... love."

Greg's heart stopped for only one beat before it began to jump strongly in his chest. His cheeks began to warm before he had even said the next words out loud.

"And have you–do you..." he cleared his throat. "...is there someone you have your heart set on?"

Mycroft blinked once, twice. Then the tiniest smile spread on his lips. A sad smile.

"Yes."

"But?" Greg asked, heart feeling heavy in his chest at Mycroft's sight.

"Well... he was not available," Mycroft explained slowly. "And I would never risk ruining his relationship just because my desires were too strong."

A low chuckle escaped Greg's lips.

"I suppose we are not that different in that aspect."

Mycroft's eyebrows furrowed and his lips parted as if to say something. Greg's heart began to beat faster against his chest once more. "I have always been faithful in my marriage even as I was starting to fall for someone else." For a moment neither of them said another word and Greg took a long sip from his glass, afraid he had said too much.

"Does your divorce change anything?"

"It changes everything," Greg mumbled against his glass, slowly meeting Mycroft's eyes. "As long as he feels the same."

Mycroft's brows furrowed ever so slightly but there was a spark in his eyes that Greg had never seen before. Mycroft's back straightened and he placed his glass on the side table, his eyes followed. He took a long deep breath.

"I have to be honest with you," he mumbled not meeting Greg's eyes.

Greg could only hum, unsure where this would lead.

"I knew it."

"Knew that?" Greg asked, his voice slightly uneven. Was this Mycroft's way to tell him that he knew of Greg's feelings?

Mycroft cleared his throat.

"I knew about her cheating."

Greg sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. Then a soft chuckle left his lips.

"Why am I even surprised?" he asked. "Of course, you would know about it."

Mycroft blinked once, twice.

"You are not angry with me?"

"No, I'm not. But why..." A sigh escaped him. "Why haven't you told me earlier?" The other men huffed quietly and shoom his head.

"I didn't want to ruin your relationship. You seemed happy."

Slowly, a gentle smile spread on Greg's lips and he leaned forward. Closing the distance between them.

"The relationship was already ruined by her actions. It was my fault for holding so desperately onto this failing marriage," he explained, carefully placing his hand on Mycroft's knee. "And if you had told me earlier, I would have... if I'm wrong this will be embarrassing but... I would have had the chance to already kiss you."

Finally, Mycroft's eyes met Greg's again.

"Kiss me?" he asked, his voice slightly pitched. Greg's smile began to falter.

"Yes?"

"You meant me? I am the one you were falling for?"

"Yes," Greg breathed. For a moment, Mycroft only stared at Greg. Then slightly trembling fingers intertwined with Greg's.

"I should have risked it," Mycroft whispered. "Telling the truth sooner. Maybe we would have had that so much sooner."

Loud chatter welcomed Greg as he stepped into the pub. He suppressed a sigh and rubbed his neck as he searched for John. The doctor had found them a table at the far end of the pub. Greg manoeuvred through the crowd of half-drunk people and those who were still too sober to have fun.

With a huff, Greg let himself fall onto the seat and grabbed the pint that John had already ordered for him. With a little more force than strictly necessary, Greg placed his glass on their table, ignoring the slight grin and raised brow from John.

"Don't!" Greg warned, one finger pointing at his friend. A chuckle left John's lips.

"I don't know what you mean."

Greg huffed but kept quiet. He would not admit that he knew John thought there was something worth having a conversation about, which was obviously wrong!

John looked at him for another moment, before taking a sip from his pint.

"How was your day?" the salt-and-pepper-haired man asked, as he leaned back in his seat, hoping to change the topic. John didn't answer right away. Instead, he started to turn his pint absent-mindedly.

"In the morning, I got breakfast with Rosie in the café around the block before I sent her to daycare," John began to explain, his grin widening to a full smile at the thought of his daughter. "Then I worked for a few hours and went to get her at 2 p.m. We spent a good hour at the playground before we went home." John took another sip from his pint and a huff escaped his lips. "Mrs Hudson had tea with Rosie while I was... well, it seems that today's violin play with Eurus didn't go well."

Greg's heart stopped for a moment and he straightened his back slightly.

"What happened?"

"Nothing with Eurus," John said quickly. "But it seemed that Mycroft finally had enough of Mrs Holmes' bitey comments. Truth be told, I was quite angry with Mycroft for what he did to Sherlock, but I slowly started to understand that he, in his own way, tried to protect both Sherlock and Eurus. Mrs Holmes is unnecessarily cruel."

A laugh escaped Greg's lips but it was cut short.

"Mycroft stepped in, still half a child himself, when Mrs Holmes and Mr Holmes didn't act like adults - didn't act like parents," Greg hissed, suddenly feeling rage bubble up inside him. "Was everything Mycroft did good? Most certainly not, but he tried his best." Greg leaned in slightly. "At least he tried instead of closing his eyes like his parents did when everything with Eurus happened."

The salt-and-pepper-haired man breathed in deeply and forced himself to breathe out slowly. John was not the one he was angry at.

"Apparently that's pretty close to what Mycroft told his mummy," John explained.

"Good for him," Greg mumbled against his glass before he took another sip from his pint.

For a long while, neither of them said a word, both caught in their own thoughts.

"Do you want to know what I think?" John eventually said, meeting Greg's eyes. With a sigh, Greg nodded even though he had an odd feeling about where this might be going. "You should go see him."

"Definitely not!"

"What are you afraid of, Greg?"

"Are you really asking me this?" Greg breathed as his elbows found their way onto the table in front of him. A soft, knowing smile spread on John's lips.

"Yes, I really am asking you that."

For a heartbeat, Greg closed his eyes and rubbed his hands over his face. A sigh trembled out of him.

"I'm afraid he will reject me again. That's why I will not go and see him, John."

"He rejected you?" John asked with wide eyes.

"Yes..." Greg stopped for a moment. "No... not really."

When John stayed quiet but raised a brow, Greg continued. "The day after Sherrinford I went to see Mycroft and one thing led to another and we kissed."

"You two kissed?"

"Yes, but right after he apologised. He closed up. Said he had no right to be liked... to be loved." Slowly, Greg looked up again, meeting John's gentle gaze.

"Do you want to know what I think?" John repeated his question. "Talking back is maybe the first step for Mycroft to finally understand that he isn't just a machine but a human with feelings. When even Eurus receives love from their parents, he also deserves to be loved."

Greg's thumb rubbed absent-mindedly against his glass as he let John's words sink in.

"You think he likes me like that?" Greg asked. John huffed a laugh.

"Mycroft kissed you! I never heard before that Mycroft kisses people," he said with a sudden sureness in his voice. "I think he is just afraid and needs reassurance that he is in fact, lovable."

Greg swallowed thickly before he stood up abruptly.

"I... have to go," he said, already turning towards the door. "Next pint is on me." The salt-and-pepper-haired man walked out of the pub and, without really thinking, started to run. Running would be faster than taking the car.

Not even fifteen minutes later, but very much out of breath, Greg stopped in front of the townhouse that Mycroft called home. He took a long, deep breath as he walked up to the door. He rang and waited. His heart was beating fast against his chest.

It only took a moment before the door was opened by Mycroft himself. His eyes widened slightly as he took Greg in.

"Greg..." he breathed. "...did Sherlock tell you..."

"Pub night with-"

"-John. Is it already Friday?"

A grin spread on Greg's lips.

"You noticed that?"

A soft pinkish colour danced across the other man's cheeks.

"Of course... but only because it's you," he whispered. Slowly, Mycroft reached out, fingers brushing against Greg's.

"Please forgive me for being so blind."

Greg intertwined their fingers gently.