Private Message

Hi all. I have seen a few new subscribers to private message and have had a ton of messages. But I just wanted to remind you all the private message will be moving to archive of our own at the above link.

The reason for this, is firstly that at the time. Tumblr seemed the right place for it. In the heart of the fandom. But recently Tumblr has closed more and more accounts and many readers and bloggers are scattered because of the over exuberant closure of accounts. Mine was flagged for showing pictures of feet!!!

Also it always proved difficult to present it in a user friendly way. Whereas over on archive it can be placed in chapter form and is easy to navigate if you want to refresh or re read certain chapters.

So, please go over there. Join if you havent already. There is some amazing writers over there. Subscribe to the RP and you will be mailed everything we update.

Note the RP is just that. The two of us literally writing sections of text, bits of dialogue that get meshed together to form scenes. Sometimes it does appear a little clunky when viewed as a story. So remember it is a role play. With Mycroft and I getting upto mischief etc etc.

We have loads of ideas but if there is a situation or something you would like to explore. Please feel to message or comment over on archive and we will consider writing it in. Either now or in the future. A bit like a prompt if you like.

So there we go. I will leave this here here and add the occasional redirection from here, but all new content will be solely on the archive.

Thankyou again for such lovely messages. We are both grateful and look forward to sharing more adventures with you shortly.

of our RP has now been transferred over to Archive of our own. 

It will continue on there from the end of January, we ask you to join us, subscribe to the RPm, leave comments and Kudos and just enjoy the exploits of two of our favourite characters...

As Greg removed his coat and hung it in the cloakroom, he steeled himself with a deep breath. He had deliberately dawdled, knowing that that rumour mill would need to sort out their tactics for his arrival and also suspecting that they might be the worse for wear after getting through £500 worth of alcohol.

As he pushed the double doors open with a loud screech, the voices cut off with an almost comedic effect. He grinned, unable to stop himself.

“Morning, Lord, you lot look like shit!”

Then the guffaws the cat calling, the cheers and also an under-current of something else Greg couldn’t quite put his finger on.

Alice, a senior PC, shouted over, “God, don’t let your fella put up a bar tab again, he almost killed us.”

“Sod that, we have got our very own gold mine,” someone else shouted.

The next five minutes was filled with jovial comments and then – “You will have to give us tips, sir, on how to move up the ladder. You seem to have it down to a fine art.” 

The male voice from over his left shoulder cut through the friendly banter like a hot knife through butter and Greg turned to see Peters smirking…

“What was that Peters? Did you just say…. Nooo… I really didn’t hear that did I?” 

Peter’s held his eyes, his stare disconcerting. Like a teenager who had just been slapped down by his parents in the middle of his friendship group.

Peters jutted his chin out and blustered out, “I’m just saying…. Well, if you are gonna jump sides, what better way to jump than up? And what other reason would anyone go there?”

There was a collective gasp as everyone took in the disparaging remarks blatantly made of Mycroft Holmes, whilst everyone may had wondered, not one other person would have had the nerve to say it.

Greg was a good man, a fair man but he had never ever gotten anywhere without hard work and dedication. He had never had to really reprimand his team, he always gained respect by his fairness, his ability to share in the shit as well as the good outcomes. He pulled his weight and he walked the walk. But that didn’t mean he didn’t know how to take someone down with his words. 

Yesterday, he had known that one of the flirty notes had been from Peters. Last night, he had felt Peters’ possessiveness as he had dragged him into the group, had felt his shock when others had made him aware of Mycroft’s presence, but it was only now he realised that Peters felt that he had been snubbed in favour of Mycroft.

 Greg didn’t know whether to laugh or punch him. Fuck, no-one, none but him knew how wonderful Myc was, and he was happy to leave them in blissful ignorance as that side of Myc was his alone.

Instead, he stepped back, pulling his voice into work mode and telling them all to sit. 

“Ok, let’s get some things straight here. Last night I allowed you to meet my partner. Someone few of you have met in person and not one of you know anything about other than petty rumours.

As for jumping the fence, Peters, I have to presume you are still intoxicated because not one of New Scotland Yard’s detectives would be so homophobic in their right mind. But let me tell you something, IF we’re talking about people coming out of closets, let me tell you I could walk along this row of closets right here and pick out at least half a dozen of you who are not heterosexual, and you know what? I don’t give a shit. Because what people choose to do with their personal lives is their own affair. It’s just a part of them, and as long as it doesn’t affect work then not one person in this room shall be judged for being gay, BI or a mother fucking closeted Objectophile.

Ok, one last thing, to you Peters but also to anyone else who may even allow a tiny proportion of their thoughts to stray in this direction.

I have been a copper for what seems forever. I have worked my way up the ranks, slowly, steadily and through pure hard work. I get to work on time, I’m often the first in, I am often the last to leave. I have never, ever used a person to gain promotion and find that accusation deeply hurtful to be honest. As for Mr Holmes, I have known him for years as a friend, he is in a friendship circle outside of NSY and we have certain things and people in common outside of this place. Yes, he has a reputation for being an Iceman, he laughs at the title, as he knows all of your silly names for him, but he works tirelessly in his job. He is devoted to his job, more than I am to mine and, he would never ever risk his job to get his leg over. Do you understand Peters!” 

Greg’s coldness was like a hard, solid shell wrapped around his body, tendrils of the freezing atmosphere reaching toward Peters slapping him down. Peters stood, frozen in the icy blast resonating from Greg, he realised three things in a moment, one that he had just made a monumental arse of himself, two that he would get no support from his colleagues and three that his career could suffer irreversible damage from his jealousy.

Greg moved toward him, “Time did you get back to your hotel last night? Or didn’t you? You smell of alcohol and cigarettes, did you actually get home? You haven’t even brushed your teeth. Get out of here. Be back this afternoon after you have washed, cleaned up and thought about what a stupid prick you are.” He hadn’t even allowed Peters to answer, he could see the answers, he had pulled, shagged all night had more to drink and had come straight here after getting up too late and unaware of his dishevelled state.

Greg turned, suddenly realising the event facilitator was standing awkwardly by the door. He nodded. “Sorry about that, things should go smoothly now.” As he turned around he was inundated with a cheer as the Yarders gathered round, patting him on the shoulder and offering general reassurance. Peters had left.

Even after Peters sidled in after lunch, pristine in appearance, smelling of peppermint and carrying with him a cloud of Lynx Africa body spray around his person, the mood of the day couldn’t be broken. The day was long, the topics were boring but the camaraderie was back on form and Greg was able to relax.

Greg buzzed with a newfound contentment as he left the hotel room. After the big reveal, and a few passionate moments on returning to the hotel room, what had ensued instead was just- well…. lovely. They had made love, and it had been like the first time again, skin on skin, sweat mingling under sliding hands, and as Mycroft had entered him, so slowly – so carefully –  as  he looked into Mycroft’s eyes, he had seen what he knew Mycroft wasn’t yet ready to tell him.

As Mycroft thrust slowly in and out of his body, the expression on his face was like a supernova, creation, something new coming to the fore, it was beautiful and as tears had fallen from Greg’s eyes, Mycroft had wiped them away with his thumbs, saying nothing, but totally understanding.

They had fallen asleep sated and loved and on waking, words still unsaid, it was obvious that the axis had tipped and that the world would never be the same again.

On one hand, it had been hard leaving the hotel, but on the other hand easier. Greg knew that he was welcome back in those arms whatever time he finished the job, wherever he had been. He was truly content.

The text tone pulled him from his reverie.

So, word on the grapevine about you two being a couple is true? Would have been nicer to hear it direct from one of you first.  SH

‘what the fuck, who, what?’ Greg sighed but wouldn’t let this drag him down, he typed back quickly…

Yeah about that, ‘surprise!!!!’ Not…. Sorry Sherlock, we were seen out together, of course you and Joh should have been the ones to know first.  Well officially, as knew already anyway! Hope you are keeping well GL

Congratulations Lestrade, be gentle with him, or he will ship you off to outer Mongolia! And yes, I am feeling fully recovered, John is a good doctor SH.

Somehow sensing that the time for slow and sensuous had come to an abrupt end, they began to move together with a bit more force and intention. Mycroft’s fingers tightened as Greg leant his body back, presenting a clear target for his lover to aim for. Mycroft almost fancied that he could feel the small spongy mass as the head of his cock slid over it, as Greg let out a tiny grunt with each glancing blow.

“Do you think…”

Greg nodded almost frantically as Mycroft’s voice petered out, his mouth tightening in concentration. Greg took advantage of Mycroft having broken the odd silence that they had been sharing, hissing out a strained, “Keep going.” He breathed out a low litany of, “Yeah, yeah - just like that, gorgeous, Jesus you’re so good, so good to me, feel fucking amazing, oh God yes, there there just there…”

Mycroft kept his hips tilted toward his chin as he continued to fuck up into his lover’s body, his own bollocks drawing up close as Greg began to tighten down around him, a full-body shiver beginning with the loosening of his neck muscles, making his head loll back in ecstasy. Greg’s fingers convulsed in his grip, and Mycroft watched with astonished eyes as his lover’s cock painted thick white stripes over his belly, bouncing and jolting with each of his hard thrusts, but coming totally untouched.

Greg continued to shake and shudder, his knees pulled in tight as his body rode out its orgasm. When he seemed to regain control of his bodily functions, he rolled his head on his shoulders and opened smouldering black eyes, fixing them on Mycroft’s face. Even though Mycroft’s rhythm had faltered, his own centre was wound quite tight, and it only took one decisive twist of Greg’s hips to send him skidding over the edge.

Greg held on gamely through Mycroft’s spasms, panting heavily as the tight grip of their hands started to ease up. Unable to speak or to even think, Mycroft simply laid there under the comforting weight of his lover’s body, his heartbeat thudding in his head. When his vision cleared and hearing returned, he cautiously opened his eyes and looked up into a face of blissed-out wonder.

“Wow.” Mycroft snorted gently as Greg’s finger trailed through the mess he had left on his stomach. “That was… Wow.”

Wordlessly, Mycroft took Greg’s hand and brought it up to his mouth, sucking his dirty finger quite clean. Greg’s mouth flopped around for a bit, and Mycroft could almost swear that he felt a twitch deep inside his lover’s body, but that could just as easily be his cock returning to its normal state.

Greg tilted his head as he cupped Mycroft’s jaw, running his thumb over his lips reverently. With one eyebrow cocked in an almost infuriatingly charming manner, he slid his hand down until it was once again hovering over the traces of his semen lingering on Mycroft’s belly. Planting his palm flat, he smeared it around, his tongue peeking out from between his teeth childishly. “Mine.”

Rolling his eyes, stretching out underneath his lover’s body, Mycroft tilted his hips up, grinding his now flaccid cock in the mess that he had similarly left behind on and in his partner. “As you are mine, Gregory Lestrade.”

Eyes shining, cheeks pink, they both broke down into heady giggles as Greg slumped down to rest on Mycroft’s chest. Mycroft hummed softly as Greg stifled his yawn into his chest hair, reaching up to tug at his nose gently. “Come now, my darling man. Let’s get cleaned up, hm?”

Mycroft let go of Greg only long enough to dig the room key out of his pocket, wrenching the door open with a little more force than strictly necessary. He spluttered inelegantly as he was pushed into the room, although any further objections were wiped from his tongue as Greg leant against the door, flicking his shirt buttons open one by one.

They didn’t speak as they undressed themselves, sharing only heated glances and fleeting touches, over shoulder and collarbone, slipping around to hips and ribs as they drifted together. Standing by the bed, they simply kissed for untold minutes, almost chaste even though utterly nude, their hands prim and gentle above the waist, their cocks straining and yet ignored.

Greg pushed up on his toes as he delved deeper into Mycroft’s mouth, and he slipped an arm around him, holding him in place, rutting against his belly languidly. With an almost anguished groan, Greg pushed at him, sitting Mycroft down at the edge of the mattress. Moving smoothly, Greg crowded up against him and settled down in his lap, his lips turning up into a wicked grin.

Mycroft swallowed as the little devil reached for the bottle of lube on the nightstand, twisting somewhat awkwardly to capture his right hand and squeezing out a generous dollop. Mycroft divined Greg’s intent as soon as he began to guide that hand around his waist, and he eagerly slid his fingers down and between, pushing one finger in without delay.

Greg gasped and threw his head back as he clutched at Mycroft’s shoulders, spreading his legs wider and tilting his hips to grant easier access. Mycroft’s breath stuttered in his chest as he looked up at his lover - his partner - watching as Greg lost himself in the bliss of his fingers. Cheeks flushed and lips trembling, his eyes rolling back in pleasure, he was nothing more than an erotic dream made flesh - an absolute vision of masculine strength and beauty.

And he was his.

Mycroft groaned as Greg shuddered atop him, their cocks glancing off of each other and setting off tiny shockwaves in the skin of their bollocks. “Greg… Oh God, Greg - please.”

Panting quietly, his dark eyes almost fever-bright in the dim room, Greg put a hand to Mycroft’s chest and pushed him down onto the bed. Biting his lip as Mycroft’s fingers slipped out of his body, Greg shuffled up, reaching behind himself to grasp his lover’s cock. Moving slowly, more out of desire than necessity, he slid down by bare inches.

Mycroft’s mouth opened in a nearly silent moan as he grasped at Greg’s hips, holding him down as he pushed up with his legs, grinding deep into the heat of his body. Mycroft let his fingers relax, let his whole body sink down, tracing lightly over the muscles in Greg’s thighs as they quivered with the effort of keeping still. Smiling softly, Mycroft braced his elbows on the mattress and offered his hands to his lover.

Greg took them, winding their fingers together as he started to move, using the leverage to lift himself just a bit higher, counting on Mycroft to keep him in place as he rocked back just a bit further. He kept himself to a somewhat steady rhythm, squeezing hard at Mycroft’s cock as he moved, adding a saucy little twist and grind as he came back down. Mycroft tried to match his strokes, thrusting slow but deep on each return, showing his teeth as Greg groaned lustily, his eyes half-lidded with bliss.

“We’re out.”

Mycroft chuckled quietly at the echo of wonder in Greg’s - in his partner’s - voice. “Well, yes. That was rather the idea, wasn’t it?”

“No, no... I mean, yes, but... We’re out, Mycroft. I know this was just the first step, that there’s so many other people to tell, or just show, but still...” Mycroft grinned as Greg pushed away briefly, gasping as his eyes went wide with delight. “We’ll go shopping at Tesco!”

Mycroft recoiled. “Good Lord, whatever for?”

Greg laughed at him, his eyes shining and cheeks pink. “For anything - for everything! For eggs and milk, to argue over what laundry soap to use and to find the best deals on the Jammy Dodgers you like to pilfer out of my kitchen cupboards in the dead of night.” He wagged his finger as Mycroft started to draw himself up with indignation. “Don’t you dare try to deny it, you great biscuit thief. I’m not a Detective Inspector for nothing.”

Mycroft deflated slightly, feeling a giddy sort of shame bouncing around in his chest. “I still don’t quite see...”

“Domesticity, Mycroft. Shopping for household goods with my partner - my boyfriend. Declaring to all and sundry that we’re together because we’re sharing a trolley and I’m buying you your very own package of biscuits, and you’re buying me Yorkshire Gold even though it’s nothing more than...”

“A pile of tea-dust unsuitable for human consumption.”

Mycroft pulled a face, and Greg reached up to tweak his nose. “But I like it. And you know that I like it, and so you’ll buy it for me. That’s the point, sweetheart.” He suddenly blushed as he dropped his gaze to the cobblestones. “It’s - building a life together.” Greg gestured toward the restaurant, still brimming with activity. “This... This was just the beginning.”

Mycroft hummed thoughtfully, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to Greg’s forehead. “It will be a rather lengthy process, I’m afraid. Your colleagues seemed to take the news rather well, but it was clearly rather a shock to some of them. You may experience some unpleasantness tomorrow.”

Greg’s face hardened. “I’ll deal with it. And if anybody dares to come near you...”

Mycroft cut him off with a short if delighted laugh. “I can take care of myself, Detective Inspector.”

“I know.” Greg’s voice had gone petulant, and he deliberately shook it off as he ran his hand over Mycroft’s chest and up around the back of his neck. “But you’re officially mine now, and I get a little protective over what’s mine.”

“Troglodyte. Are you going to club me on the head and drag me back to your cave to have your wicked animalistic way with me?”

Mycroft squirmed as Greg’s fingers tightened down around his neck, his eyes going dark and predatory. “Was thinking I’d just have you right out here in the open - really stake my claim. What do you think about that, Mr. Holmes?”

They paused just outside the door, both of them blowing out large gusts of air as if releasing an internal pressure valve. Mycroft quirked an eyebrow as Greg giggled happily, bringing his hand up to his mouth and brushing his lips over his knuckles. Greg’s hand tightened in his, and then Mycroft found himself being brought in for a kiss. It was hesitant at first, a little uncertain, but Mycroft shuffled closer, cradling Greg’s jaw in his hands as he deepened it, making a statement and staking a claim all at once.

Greg’s hands tightened on his hips, and he rocked up on his toes, giving just as good as he was getting, ensuring that his own property was very well marked. There was a solemn moment as they pulled away slightly, acutely aware of all the people on the street, some of them gawking quite openly. Mycroft supposed that was to be expected when engaged in such a public display, but he honestly couldn’t be bothered to care. He couldn’t even be bothered to level his deadliest glare at anyone, because he simply couldn’t tear his gaze away from Greg’s face.

That lovely face, so open and expressive, each emotion that he was experiencing flitting over his brow, warming his cheeks and lighting up his eyes. This gorgeously careworn face that Mycroft wanted to see every damn day of the rest of his life, but oh God he really really couldn’t go there now - too soon, you damn fool, too soon too soon!

Greg’s head tilted ever so slightly as his eyes narrowed in obvious speculation, and Mycroft’s stomach swooped almost uncomfortably as he fought to keep his thoughts held secret just a bit longer. His lover was by no means a stupid man, and it was not beyond the realm of possibility that similar notions to Mycroft’s own had already crossed Greg’s mind. Of course he’d be able to suss him out before too long.

Greg led the way into the busy bar area, the atmosphere thick with the smell of a mix of cloying perfume, aftershave and sweat. The throngs of people rubbed shoulders, as they pushed against each other jostling for space where not much was available.

“Greg, you auld bugger, thought you weren’t coming, hot date or sommat June said?”

Greg turned as Peter’s slapped him on the back, he was already two sheets to the wind, and way too close for comfort.

“Hey Peter, yeah, that’s right. I have a very hot date, just turned out that we all chose the same venue.”

Peter’s missed the not so subtle hint that Greg wasn’t alone, and dragged him toward a table to the left of the bar. As Greg was hauled forward, he pulled at Mycroft’s hand, clutching fiercely so as not to leave him alone in the throngs of people vying for space.

“Look who I found? If it aint the DI!” Peter’s pulled at Greg, thrusting him forward like the catch of the day. But the eyes of the Yarders were set on the man whose hand was firmly clutched in Greg’s.

Greg pulled Mycroft forward. “Hey everyone, sorry we couldn’t join you earlier, but we had dinner booked, but thought we would look in and see how you were all getting along. This of course, is my partner, who all of you ribbed me so much about today, Mycroft. Mycroft Holmes.”

Mycroft nodded politely, aware that the jaws of at least a dozen people were gaping at him with astonishment. Of course, he knew all about his reputation, the man behind the orders, the Iceman, the cold bastard who pulls all the strings. He didn’t care. In fact, he almost revelled in their astonishment. 

It was June who recovered first, “Mr Holmes, Sir, erm… welcome. This is an erm… a surprise.” Within moments most had outwardly recovered enough to slap Greg on the back, telling him he was a dark horse.

It was of course Mycroft that saved the day. “Drinks on me, then?”

The uproar as Greg scribbled drink orders on a scrap of paper made Mycroft snigger quietly. 

Mycroft fought his way to the bar with Greg, gesturing to the manager, how did he even know who he was anyway? Greg wondered, and then whispered in Greg’s ear telling him that the rest of the night was on him, the bar tab was covered as long as Greg only stayed for one drink and then could they get the hell out of there please.

They only stayed a half hour, the group were more than happy when Greg told them that Mycroft had put a hefty tab behind the bar. Knowing Mycroft, the amount he would have left, would probably have fitted the whole club out in drinks for the evening.

As the two men strode down the bustling Edinburgh streets, no one paid them any heed, both immaculately dressed, both very much fitting in with the variety of people who flock the streets of Edinburgh at night. Greg slipped his hand into Mycroft’s and they walked the short distance to the Dome in companionable silence. It had been decided that they would just turn up for their reservation and if or more likely when they were spotted by the Yarders, that Greg would introduce Mycroft as his partner. Greg stole a look at Mycroft, who in profile could be seen grinning like a cat who had found the cream jug.  Greg Squeezed his hand, as his own heart fluttered gently.

Greg luxuriated in the warm steamy bath, and the feel of skin against skin as Mycroft leaned back against him. Letting his mind wander, Greg wondered if they would still be doing this in ten or even twenty years? Would they be even be able to get in the bath then?  If only they hadn’t met so late, so many wasted years. But he was determined that they would make every day count from here on in.

Greg took a deep breath, smoothing his hands over Mycroft’s arms, the slide and warmth arousing him again.

“Myc, we need to have a chat about what people know? Whether we want people to know?” Greg felt no response from Mycroft, no sign of tension in his neck or his back muscles. He continued -

“Today, I felt like a teenager, that’s what you do to me. Every time you text, I get a semi- hardon just from the alert tone. When I read your words, I feel loved, cherished and I blush like a school boy.” I don’t give a shit about what anyone thinks Myc, I don’t care if everyone knows I am in love with, and loved by the most beautiful man on the planet. But what about you? Thing is Myc, if we don’t want anyone to know we will have to be more careful.  As I was leaving today, one of the girls sort of hit on me.”  That got a response in the tension stakes.  

Greg pulled Mycroft even closer, kissing the base of his neck. “Hey, you have nothing to worry about, but the thing is, they are all going to the dome tonight. That’s where she invited me - to join ‘them’.  And when you said you had booked a table there, I thought.. shit! I know you did this for me, you know it’s my type of place, and I am desperate to go there, but with you!”

Suddenly Greg was aware of Mycroft’s shoulders shaking. For a moment, Greg couldn’t work out what was happening and then he heard that silver toned giggle. 

Greg’s eyes opened slowly, dark and smouldering. “Now who needs to behave?”

Mycroft felt his cheeks warm under that gaze, squirming against the tightening in his trousers. “Would you prefer I stop working this unbearable tension out of your shoulders?”

Greg conceded with a little smirk, roughly yanking on his belt and zip, shoving everything down and stepping out of the bundle of fabric. He kicked it away and reached for Mycroft’s clothing, his fingers fumbling in their haste. He narrowed his eyes as Mycroft’s hands stilled on his shoulders, tilting his head meaningfully. “Don’t you dare stop now, Mr. Holmes.”

Mycroft rolled his eyes as his trousers hit the floor, swiftly followed by his pants. His shirt was left hanging open as Greg took hold of his waist, gingerly manoeuvring him out of his shed clothing and guiding him toward the bathroom. Mycroft obligingly kept his fingers kneading at Greg’s neck and shoulders, trying to keep from ogling his lover’s physical reaction to him. Even with such evidence on prominent display, Greg’s erection swaying gently with each of his cautious steps backward, Mycroft found it difficult to believe that it was entirely due to him.

But it was. This was made abundantly clear as Greg stopped by the side of the tub, pulling him in, pressing their bodies flush against each other. Mycroft’s knees went a bit weak as he was kissed, slow and deep and absolutely perfect. There was no wandering of hands, no filthy noises, no wild desperation. Just his lover’s strong arms around him, his lips moving against his with calm deliberation, their heartbeats throbbing in time down below.   

Mycroft blinked slowly. How odd it was that such simple words could make his heart skip a beat in trepidation. But Greg’s eyes were warm and kind, his voice amused, and so Mycroft deliberately let go of his fear, leaning in to rub their cheeks together briefly. He smiled as Greg rumbled out a deep sigh of relief and satisfaction, turning his head to capture his lips, laughing into his mouth as his lover took the opportunity to give his bum a hard squeeze.

“Behave, ruffian.” Mycroft drew back, shaking his head fondly. “We don’t want the bath to go cold on us.”

Greg drew back with a rueful smile. “God, no. I need it too badly.” He started to work on the buttons of his shirt, huffing out a quiet laugh as his hands were captured and set firmly down at his sides.

“Allow me…” Mycroft kept his eyes focused on his task, nimbly undoing the top button and trailing his fingers over the tidy bit of chest hair that was exposed before moving on to the next. Before long he was pulling Greg’s shirt out of his trousers, running his palms up his torso, skimming over his nipples and resting lightly on his shoulders. With a gentle shove, the shirt was discarded on the floor, and Mycroft simply stood there for a moment, his fingers cradling the trapezius muscle on either side of Greg’s neck.

As he let himself into the suite, he left all his stresses at the door.

“Myc, you here?”

He shrugged off his jacket, hanging it on the coat hook, ran his fingers through his hair as he caught the aroma of something, slightly perfumed, heavy, musky. The door to the bathroom opened, and a cloud of steam brought the heady aroma into the room.

Mycroft drew him into a close tight hug, his right hand rubbing the stress out of his upper back.. “I’ve drawn us a bath, come on let me get you a drink and we can relax”

Greg groaned with appreciation. “You are perfection, you don’t l know how much I have needed this. It hardly feels like just a few hours since I left. This afternoon has been more than tedious.”