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 ÂŁ500 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.
âMorning, Lord, you lot look like shit!â
Then the guffaws the cat calling, the cheers and also an under-current of something else Greg couldnât quite put his finger on.
Alice, a senior PC, shouted over, âGod, donât let your fella put up a bar tab again, he almost killed us.â
âSod that, we have got our very own gold mine,â someone else shouted.
The next five minutes was filled with jovial comments and then â
âYou will have to give us tips, sir, on how to move up the ladder. You seem to have it down to a fine art.âÂ
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 smirkingâŚ
âWhat was that Peters? Did you just sayâŚ. Nooo⌠I really didnât hear that did I?âÂ
Peterâs 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, âIâm just sayingâŚ. Well, if you are gonna jump sides, what better way to jump than up? And what other reason would anyone go there?â
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 didnât mean he didnât know how to take someone down with his words.Â
Yesterday, he had known that one of the flirty notes had been from Peters. Last night, he had felt Petersâ possessiveness as he had dragged him into the group, had felt his shock when others had made him aware of Mycroftâs presence, but it was only now he realised that Peters felt that he had been snubbed in favour of Mycroft.
 Greg didnât 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.Â
âOk, letâs 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 Yardâs detectives would be so homophobic in their right mind. But let me tell you something, IF weâre 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 donât give a shit. Because what people choose to do with their personal lives is their own affair. Itâs just a part of them, and as long as it doesnât 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, Iâm 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!âÂ
Gregâs 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, âTime did you get back to your hotel last night? Or didnât you? You smell of alcohol and cigarettes, did you actually get home? You havenât 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.â He hadnât 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. âSorry about that, things should go smoothly now.â 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 couldnât be broken. The day was long, the topics were boring but the camaraderie was back on form and Greg was able to relax.
As they wrapped up Greg could see Peters glancing at him across the room, âobviously wanting to make up - let him sweatâ He pulled on his coat and laughed as someone shouted, donât suppose you two will be down the pub tonight?
âNah, mate we have plans, you will have to buy your own drinks.â And with that he left quickly leaving Peters stewing in his worries.