Mycroft looked at his phone as it buzzed with a number not heard from in nearly two years.
"Fuck you and that inspector shit!!! I'll be home in thirty. Get over there now, you bastard!" Greg spat, then immediately rang out.
Mycroft stared at his phone and knew there was only ONE reason for the call now.
The day he has looked forward to -and anxiously dreaded was now upon him.
He sighed as he looked out of the sedan window at the dark stormy night of London on his way home. He could barely see out the windscreen, its wipers barely able to hold the tide against the torrential rain that lashed violently against the windows.
"Change of plans, Edgar." Mycroft gave his driver an address on the opposite side of London. "Inspector Lestrade's flat."
"He's met with my resurrected brother."
“Ah...” Edgar made the U-turn.
This was a different storm for Mycroft to face.
Mycroft recalled Gregory's flat faced the front of the building and realized his approach had been noted and was not surprised to find Gregory’s door slightly ajar when he reached it. He was surprised to open it and find a towel that waited on at the table by the door, but not the owner of the flat.
Gregory stood by the wide windows, his back to Mycroft as he watched the raging storm outside.
Mycroft entered, placed his umbrella in the stand and hung his coat next Gregory's on the rack before he faced the room.
In moments of weakness, Mycroft has watched Gregory via cameras. But he had not seen the man in person in nearly two years.
And Gregory… looked good.
The stress of clearing his name at work, and life in general, has made his hair more silver, but he remained a rugged, casually gorgeous man.
There were many things Mycroft Holmes wanted to say to Gregory Lestrade. What came out of his mouth instead was not it.
“You look like you just saw a ghost.”
Gregory flinched; his reflected face glared at Mycroft in disbelief. Mycroft could not blame him; he was appalled with himself at the inappropriate jest. Mycroft suspected the D.I. was purposely keeping his distance, lest he give into the temptation to lay hands on him -and not in a good way.
“Your brother made the same bad joke. He told you he’s seen me…” It was an accusation.
“No, he has not. I know you have by… your level of anger.”
“My level of…” Gregory practically snarled as he spun from the window. “You lied to me, Mycroft. For two fucking years.”
“I never lied to you, Gregory. I couldn’t…”
Gregory started for his kitchen. "It's shit out there, have a seat. The water's hot and I have the Darjeeling you like."
“I… I think this conversation requires something… stronger.”
Gregory paused, then came back with two glasses and a gift-wrapped box. He threw the paper at Mycroft as he revealed a very expensive bottle of scotch. Scotch that had come up in a conversation during dinner some time ago. Without looking Mycroft knew it was supposed to be a Christmas present from Gregory to him. Christmas from the previous year as the crumpled-up paper and gift tag in his hands confirmed with a gut punch.
"Thank you.” Mycroft accepted the glass. “Before you speak Gregory, or give to the ardent desire to punch me, will you please hear me out?"
Greg threw him a look, that barely hid the smirk of veracity to the threat. "Whatever."
Mycroft took a fortifying sip of his scotch; not tasting it in his nervousness, as he took a deep breath and began.
“My brother and I. Our relationship… is complicated as you well know. We obfuscate, and omit truths at times, but we never lie when it is of importance and we never break a vow with each other. I told you my brother did what he did to save John, Mrs. Hudson, and you."
Greg made an impatient get on with it gesture...
"Sherlock made me vow, not promise vow, I would tell no one he was alive – no exceptions.” Mycroft looked at Greg, then lowered his head at the coldness found there. “On St. Bart’s roof, Sherlock found a loophole in Moriarty’s reasoning. One in which Moriarty committed suicide to close it shut… And thus, Sherlock…jumped.”
There was no time to arrange visual, but Sherlock had been wired, so Mycroft had heard everything between Sherlock and Moriarty. Still, Mycroft shuddered in the memory of those harrowing seconds after the gunshot, when he had no idea whether one or both on the roof were dead. Mycroft’s overwhelmingly relief in receiving Sherlock’s text LAZARUS was immediately overshadowed in the enormity of then carrying out LAZARUS IS GO.
Even now nearly two years later, Mycroft shuddered in the memory.
“Gregory, I made that vow in the planning stages never believing it would be needed.” Mycroft forced himself to continue. “I made that vow before I realized keeping that vow meant I had to lie to the man I was then only realizing I had fallen in love with.” Mycroft looked up and held Gregory’s eyes. He watched as Gregory took the words and processed them; saw the moment the impact of them registered and continued, “Yes, I said he jumped, but I never said that he died. No exceptions, unfortunately included you, Gregory. I could not bear to ask him to let me tell the man I loved whom I could see whenever I wanted, when he risked everything for John and could not.” Mycroft drained his glass and put it down. “And I absolutely could not continue to face you with that hanging over my head. I could not. So, I… I kept my vow… And withdrew from you.”
“I know.” Gregory said quietly after a moment.
“Well, I do now…” Gregory admitted. “Sherlock snuck his resurrection on me in NSY carpark. Once I got over the shock, he told me the much the same as you about your vow. And…” Gregory ran rough hand through his hair, setting it awry. “…He begged me to forgive you - but still did not really know why I should… until now.”
Mycroft understood it meant Sherlock had not broken his vow to Mycroft to not tell Gregory of his love.
The silence stretched long and uncomfortable as both men watched the storm outside until Mycroft’s phone buzzed.
Text>> I tried to explain, but he was livid upon realizing you’ve known all this time. I did not realize it was reciprocal until I saw his face. It is the same fury and hurt I saw with John. If you see him, know that I did not tell what is yours to say to him. – SH
Text>> In retrospect, I see now I have broken four hearts with this vow I forced upon you. I do not know if John can ever forgive me in this – or if Greg will with you. – SH
Text>> I am sorry. – SH
Mycroft sighed and showed Gregory the texts.
“John will forgive him… eventually...” Gregory stood, poured himself a fresh drink and walked away to stare out the window again.
Mycroft understood the silent dismissal for what it was. He went to the door and took his things before he opened it.
“Is my brother right, Gregory?”
“Yes, it is reciprocated. And yes, I am furious and hurt…” Gregory answered after a moment.
Mycroft stepped out and with his back to Greg and his hand on the door, he forced himself to ask one last question. “And will you forgive me?”
“Eventually…but not tonight.”
Mycroft left. Outside, he looked at the continuing deluge, undecided on which storm was worse.
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