#ff295

Mycroft let himself into Gregory's flat. Without a key.

Good, he is still here.

"You brother is bad enough. Et tu, Brute?" Gregory, not even close to surprised, looked over at his entrance but otherwise barely broke stride as he took the glass he held into the kitchen.

Mycroft followed him, "You didn’t call..."

Gregory sighed as he washed the glass and dried the glass and then straightened up, "I had just gotten word. I couldn't think beyond -get to my sister pronto. Then come and pack. And Mycroft…? No. Just no."

"But I can help…"

"If I wanted your help, I would have asked." Gregory brushed past him and crossed the small flat to his bedroom. A packed carry-on waited by the bed.

"You know, I would have said yes." Mycroft followed him to the door of the bedroom but did not enter.

Cart before the horse. I will not unless invited.

He knew by the way Gregory flicked his eyes at him, that he was not invited.

"Exactly why I did not ask for it." Gregory scoffed.

I knew he would say that. Just as I know he would never ask.

This was one time even Mycroft understood not to be his usual self and take over, however good the intentions.

The walk to Gregory's front door was quiet.

This is awkward.

They had finally shared their feelings for each other.

Well, Greg accidentally shared his feelings…

“Mycroft, I’m exhausted, and if I didn’t love you, I wouldn’t have answered the bloody phone at all. What the hell do you want?”

…because three days of Sherlock will do that.

Gregory hadn’t realized what he said until he learned it was reciprocated.

“I… was calling to offer the services of a driver because I love you and knew you had to be at wit’s end after dealing with my brother.”

….because unexpected confessions from the man one was secretly in love with will do that.

It happened over the phone, Mycroft was on his way to him when Gregory received the call informing him that Giselle Marrianne Lestrade -his mother, who lived with his older sister in Leeds, had died peacefully in her sleep. Exhaustion fled as Gregory immediately headed to his sister’s– gone by the time Mycroft arrived at the flat.

Mycroft was Gregory’s flat because the D.I.’s GPS indicated he was homeward bound, not that he was called Mycroft, the two had not spoken until now.

"Mycroft please?" Gregory stopped as they stepped off the lift into the lobby. "I… I… I don't want your help. And I… just can't think right now with Mum… And Lissette is waiting for me."

"I understand…" Mycroft gave a short nod.

He started to walk away when Gregory lightly grasped his hand. He stopped and looked at their joined hands. He looked at Gregory, desperately wanting their lips to touch as their hands were, and wondered if Gregory would let him, but the timing could not be worse.

"Thank you for coming by, Mycroft. I do appreciate it." Gregory whispered with a watery smile as he let go. “Will you come? The… service? After…?”

"You're welcome. And of course, I will. Text me the information when you have it." Mycroft looked into Gregory’s sad brown eyes before he turned and walked to his waiting sedan.

He turned back at Gregory’s call of his name.

“I’m scatterbrained with Mum’s passing and funeral arrangements and all, but I think you were about to ask me something a bit ago, no?” Greg approached him.

“The timing is horrendous, I know, but yes, I was,” Mycroft admitted quietly as he also approached.

“It’s true about the timing, but you should know I would have said yes.” Greg sighed, paraphrasing Mycroft’s words from earlier.

“And if I ask you now, Gregory? Let me come with?  I can work remotely; I promise not to intrude where you do not want me. Just let me be with you? But if nothing else, may I ki-”

The rest is cut off by Gregory’s kiss.

Their first kiss.

At first soft, almost chaste, then emotions kicked in for both – a miasma of joy, pain, elation, and grief as they hold each other.

“I… I have to go…” The tears in Gregory’s eyes showed them all as he reluctantly pulled away. “See you later, then…”

“I know…” Mycroft stepped back, his brows furrowed slightly, “Later?”

“You asked more than one question, Mycroft...” Greg glanced over his shoulder as he walked away, a slightly less watery smile on his face, “…the timing still sucks, but the answer to the last one is the same as for the others. It will always be that when it comes to you. To us…”

Mycroft watched Gregory as walked away.

The man was grieving; it was in his entire bearing; there was no denying it, and it hurt seeing it. Still, Mycroft softly smiled as he climbed into his sedan.

It will always be that when it comes to you. To us...

He had his answer.

Yes.

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