#pub conversations

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.