Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Detective Inspector Lestrade!” Donovan shouted. “Are you going to stay for a while after work, sir?” She asked as she approached to Gregory. Lestrade shook his head. “I told you Donovan, today I am leaving earlier. You remember I told you, right?” He asked. Donovan sighed and nodded. “Yeah… I do, but I thought that something might have changed…” Lestrade nodded. “Good. Now, I'll leave in ten minutes or so, you're in charge.” Donovan nodded again. “Good luck, boss.” She said before turning away with a smirk on her face.

Lestrade went to his office and tried to put everything in order. He put all the paperwork he should have done in its place and put on his jacket. He walked his way out of New Scotland Yard and hailed a cab. Gregory told the cabbie to take him to Tesco. Today was his first anniversary with Mycroft and he wanted to make it special. Special, but not cheesy. Well, not that cheesy. When he finally arrived he paid the cabbie and slipped out of the cab. He started walking down the corridors. Why do they change everything from place? He thought as he picked some things through his way. He was going to cook. Lestrade’s cooking in general had always been good, but Gregory didn't always cook. Just or special occasions and family reunions and Mycroft was indeed a special occasion, maybe even more than that.

Finally he finished shopping after the lady in the counter smiled at him when he passed the candles. He had felt so embarrassed about buying them. He hailed another cab. This time he gave their address. It had been four months since he and Mycroft started sharing a flat. When he arrived he paid the cabbie and walked to his door. Gregory took his keys out for opening the door and entered his flat.

He opened the door and left all the bags in the kitchen counter. He took out his jacket and left it on a chair. He washed his hands and started taking the things out of the bags and organised them. Then, he started cutting the vegetables. About a month ago he had found out that Mycroft favourite food was one of the plates that Gregory knew how to cook, and most important than that, that he cooked well.

Gregory started thinking about his speech. He had practised it a million times in front of the mirror, when Mycroft wasn’t home. But he had more than clear than the man would probably make him change the words with his amazing face the second before he actually started speaking. He had written it down about a week ago and had completely memorised it by the next day. Either way Gregory was constantly worried it wasn't enough.

He finished the meat and went to change. He supposed his beloved would arrive at the usual hour. So, it was better to be ready. He decided to shower and shave first. Gregory entered the room that had come to be theirs months ago. He set out of the closet the clothes he was going to wear and turned on the shower.

Gregory quickly disposed of all his clothes and entered the shower. He felt the hot water fall on his back and he let out a sigh. He hoped that Mycroft would actually arrive, it was their anniversary and it should be quite important to him. At least as important as it was for Gregory. Again, he hoped. He cleaned himself and turned off the shower. He dried his legs and stepped out. Gregory sighed when he noticed that thanks to his hair and even after his effort there was a small pond of water at his feet.

He tried to dry it before sighing and letting it be. He took the shaving cream and the razor. Gregory tried to take all the time in the world; he knew that this had to be done with great amount patience. He finally finished a few minutes later, clean and with not even a small cut. He smiled at his job and got dressed before going back into the kitchen.

The meat was ready, so the only thing he was missing was to put everything on a plate and try to make it look pretty. Gregory set up the table and put a candle in the middle of it. He told himself it was better to wait before lighting it. He glanced at his watch. Ten minutes. He took a deep breath and tried to control the anxiety he was feeling. His hand went to his pocket and he took out the small velvet box. He opened it with an extremely delicacy. Inside there was a small silver band. Nothing too expensive as he knew Mycroft was used to, but it was something.

Gregory closed the box and put it back on his pocket. He took out a wine and poured some in the glasses. Five minutes. He took out his phone and fired a small message.

Hello.-GL

Good afternoon, Gregory.-MH

When are you coming home?-GL

I hope it doesn't bother you that I'm staying a little bit longer here.-MH

Gregory sighed and typed and answer.
World crisis?-GL

No, seeing as I've got nothing today I’m doing tomorrow’s work.-MH

Gregory stared at his phone screen; he had to be kidding him. It was surely a Joke.
Nothing?-GL

Last time I check I didn't had anything.-MH

Alright…-GL

[Delayed.] Have I done something wrong?-MH

Gregory huffed. He shook his head as he typed.
You are a Holmes, you should know.-GL

What did I do?-MH

What day is today, Myc?-GL

January 15.-MH

Anything important today?-GL

No, not that I know.-MH

Okay.-GL

Gregory sighed and put the phone in the table. He couldn't believe it. Something inside his conscience wanted to think it was a lie and Mycroft was just joking. He took a sip of wine. Well, a sip that consisted in almost all the glass. He put his head on the table and decided not to tell Mycroft about how important this day was. If he arrived home, he would find out what important thing was today.

He tried not to feel bad about it, he really did. He knew that Mycroft had an important job and that it was difficult to remember dates and things, but he just couldn't push the hurt away like the Holmes brothers could.

Chapter Text

Mycroft sighed. The last messages he had send he had been ignored. “Anthea.” He called. The girl entered the office and didn’t even look up from her blackberry. “Anything that I can do before leaving?” He asked looking at her. Anthea shook his head and looked up for a second at his boss. “Go home.” She said before turning and leaving the room. Mycroft sighed and nodded, more for himself than for, the now gone, Anthea. He texted his driver and put on his jacket. As he walked besides Anthea’s desk he shot her a glance. “Go home.” He said and she smiled slightly and nodded.

He spent the ride to their flat trying to think about what he missed. Gregory was obviously angry at him, if the texts were anything to go by. What date? 15, January. What was so important about it? He sighed and took out his phone again. The last two messages had been completely ignored by Gregory and he was trying, quite hard, not to worry. He was a Holmes he should really know what he had done wrong.
The driver stopped on their address.

Mycroft thanked him politely and slipped out of the black car. He walked to the door and took out his keys. It was late and everything was dark. He opened the door and the smell of food hit him. Oh, no. What had he done? It was his favourite food and only Gregory knew that. Mycroft sighed and closed the door. He approached the kitchen and saw Gregory on the table. Taking a deep breath he entered the room and looked at his lover.

Gregory didn’t turn around after he heard Mycroft. He passed a hand through his eyes to wipe away any trace of tears. Something inside him reminded him that he couldn’t trick Mycroft, but he did it anyways. He waited a few minutes, hoping that the red flush on his face wasn’t there anymore.

Mycroft looked at his face and then at the rest of the room. He scanned everything in seconds. Gregory had been crying, so what he forgot had been important. Was important, he could still make a difference or that’s what he hoped. The dinner, Mycroft’s favourite, so he wanted to please him. The candle, romantic. What kind of event he could have forgotten that involved… Oh.

Gregory watched slowly as Mycroft features passed from confused to understanding. “Took you quite long.” He murmured before taking his almost finished glass and drinking everything left. Mycroft mind was running wild, what he was supposed to do in a situation like this? Gregory couldn’t leave him. He couldn’t let him. The love of his life and he had given him the perfect way out. “I’m sorry.” Mycroft said before stepping forward Gregory. “Well, I’m sorry too.” Greg replied sharply before looking up at Mycroft.

He couldn’t help but to be mad at himself more than at Mycroft, it was his job things like this were going to happen. But he hadn’t been kept longer there because of something important. Well, really important. Mycroft debated if he should hug Gregory or maybe kiss him and explain. The problem was that there was nothing to explain, he just forgot. “I… I didn’t mean to forget it. You mean a lot to me… Sorry… I.” Mycroft mumbled. He stared at the floor and tried to come up with a decent excuse.

Gregory looked away from Mycroft. He stood up and turned to leave the room. Mycroft step forward and grabbed his wrist. “Please…” He murmured, but Gregory shook his head and kept walking. Mycroft watched as Gregory walked away from him. It couldn’t feel more wrong. Mycroft followed him from behind. The only thing that came to his mind was to say sorry, over and over again, but he knew that it wouldn’t work. Not now.

Gregory entered their room and sat down on the bed. Mycroft just stayed by the doorframe. “If you wish to end this…” He got the words out of his mouth with an extreme pain and effort. Gregory looked at him like he had just killed a puppy. “I don’t… I’m just mad right now, okay? Just… Let’s wait, alright.” Mycroft felt a relief going through his body.

He hadn’t completely fucked it up, at least not yet. He nodded and walked into the room only to pick a t-shirt and some trousers to sleep in. He took the clothes with him to the bathroom and got change, all on auto pilot. The only thing that was in his mind was how he was going to make up to Gregory.
He walked out of the bathroom and proceeded to move back to the door.

“Wait.” Greg called him. “I might be angry at you, but you have to work tomorrow, so sleep on the bed.” Mycroft gulped and nodded slightly. He walked to the bed and opened his side of the bed. It was cold, but he got inside anyways. Trying to resist the need to curl up he laid down.

"Greg?" Mycroft murmured a few seconds later.

"Yes?" The other replied.

"I'm really sorry... I love you." Mycroft said a little louder, but Gregory didn't answer.

Chapter Text

The alarm broke the silence. Gregory groaned and lifted his head from the pillow. It took a second to remember the disaster that last night had been. He was glad Mycroft didn’t know about the ring, still hidden in the pocket of the trousers. He would feel guiltier than now if he did.

He sat up and stirred. He was tired and felt slightly off balance. Greg turned to the side only to find the other side of the bed neatly made. He let out a sigh and stood up.
He’d have to walk into the office and tell everyone who asked about yesterday a small stupid lie. He couldn’t tell them what had happened. He didn’t want to recall it, plus he didn’t want them against Mycroft. He didn’t want half the Scotland Yard against the British Government.

He got dressed slowly, not wanting to get to work, not wanting to move, just to stay. He chose against a tie and put his favourite shoes on, hoping they would make the day less tortuous that it seemed it was going to be.

Walking into the living room and then into the kitchen he found out the politician wasn’t even at the flat at all. He sighed and passed his hand through his head for what seemed the millionth time.
He drank a cup of coffee and left for work, what else could he do? He had thought about taking the day out before, but it would do him no good. It was better to keep his mind away from everything that had happened yesterday.

Mycroft silently worked at his desk, Anthea, from the corner of her eye, could see the state he was in and was wondering what could have happened yesterday that his boss was in such bad mood with himself.

He had left the flat early, it was barely 5:45 when he had arrived at the office, and he didn’t want to make any contact with Gregory until he actually came up with a good way to ask for forgiveness.

The amount of notes in the paper in front of him weren’t getting bigger after each minute. He was getting stressed and he couldn’t help himself to not to think about the worse possibilities, what if he didn’t come up with anything? What if Gregory left him before he had come up with something?

He tried to keep that thought in specific away from his mind and tried to put it on the task now at hand. He could buy him something, but Gregory had told him in more than a one occasion that he didn’t need nor wanted Mycroft giving him expensive gifts. He could propose to him to show him that he did actually cared about him, but he wasn’t really sure it was the smartest thing to do given the situation.

He could always just apologize to him and not make anything huge, but being a Holmes made him just as dramatic as his brother so he couldn’t… Wait, what if he called John?
He hated asking for help of any kind and even less from his brother or his partner, but he had screwed it up royally so and he needed help. John would know what to do; he hoped he could at least enlighten him if he didn’t have any ideas.

Without thinking it twice Mycroft texted his driver and let Anthea know that he was leaving. Along the way he started rethinking the idea and after every second it seemed more unlikely that the Doctor would help him.

What if he wasn’t home at all? He texted Anthea quickly just to make sure he was. His driver stopped in front of the door and he took a deep breath. He thanked his driver and straightened the door knock and walked upstairs.

He found his brother on the sofa, hands folded under his chin like in prayer. “Go away.” He murmured the minute Mycroft had entered the room. “I don’t want any of your cases.”

Mycroft cleared his throat. “Believe it or not, dear brother, I’m not here for you.” He said, controlling his voice so he didn’t show as any nervousness as possible.

Sherlock sat up quickly after his brother finished the sentence. He looked at his brother up and down and Mycroft knew he was trying to deduce who he was here for (Easy, John, whom else if not him?) and what for. “What did you do know?” Sherlock asked with a slight groan.

“None of your business, Sherlock.” Mycroft replied. “Is John Watson home at the moment?” He asked even though he knew.
Sherlock sighed. “John!” He called before he returned to the position he was on earlier, not really going back to think, just listening.

John came from what Mycroft was fairly sure was their bedroom. “Yes..? Oh, Mycroft hello. ” He said, not really thrilled that the older Holmes was here because it always ended with Sherlock a bit sulky. “Good afternoon, Doctor Watson.” Mycroft replied with a polite nod.

“What is it, Sherlock?” John asked as he turned to see the Consulting Detective on the couch. “Mycroft, he needs you.” The man replied before apparently going back to think.
Mycroft fought the blush that was trying to get onto his face. “Yes, I was hoping I could talk alone with you for a minute.” He murmured, completely out of his usual self.

“So you don’t kidnap me anymore or it was too urgent?” John joked. “I’ll see if I can help you, but only to spite Sherlock.”
Mycroft nodded.
“To the kitchen?” John asked and then led Mycroft into it. He turned the kettle on and went to get out mugs. “Tea?” He asked.
“Yes, please.” Mycroft answered with a small nod.

John took out two mugs and set them up. He turned to Mycroft and raised an eyebrow. “What is it then?”
Mycroft swallowed anxiously and stared more at his hands than he actually looked at John. “I need your advice with something I don't know how to fix.” He said softly, so his brother didn’t hear.

John nodded. “Okay, what is it with? You understand I can really fix any political thing, that’s your job.” Mycroft sighed, but nodded.
“I wouldn’t ask you something like that… It’s more about the matters the heart.” John nodded again, a little bit slower this time, like he was trying to assimilate that fact that Mycroft the Ice Man Holmes was asking for his help on something like this.
“What happened, then?” John asked.

The kettle boiled and John started serving their teas as Mycroft explained what had happened last night and the mess he had made.
John handed him his mug a few minutes before he finished and when he was John took a deep breath.

“Wow.”

Mycroft resisted from wincing. “How could I fix this?”

“Well, Greg must be a bit angry… Mostly at you for forgetting it and because it was supposed to be a special date and all that stuff.” John said with a shrug.

“It’s going to take a while, but he will end up forgiving you. You are only human, even if you Holmes don’t like it that way.”
Mycroft nodded. “So I just wait?” He asked to make sure.

“Well, you could make dinner or buy him chocolates, something like it… But he will end up forgiving you. God knows I’ve forgiven Sherlock more times that I can count.” John said with a fond smile.

Mycroft nodded. “Thank you for helping me and for the tea.” He murmured softly. John only nodded. “I’ll leave you now, I have things to prepare.”

They both said his goodbyes and Sherlock wasn’t on the couch by the time Mycroft went out. He texted his driver and then Anthea with a list of things to make dinner.

Chapter Text

Greg had had a day whose description could only be: shit.

There had been a triple murder Sherlock-FuckingDiva-Holmes didn’t want to help on because to him it was boring. Even on Sherlock’s standards the scene was more than a 5. Nonetheless, the man had come in for lower than 3 before. Then, there was a robbery and not any robbery. One of those ladies everyone knows their name because of those crappy telly shows had her dog stolen.

Greg could swear on his life that he had never heard someone with a loud-pitch voice shout so loud. He was probably going deaf into the next hours. When he left Scotland Yard her voice still echoed inside his head and by the time he had reached his flat it had his head throbbing.

With a deep breath that he then released in a heavy sigh, Greg opened the door and walked inside. He took off his jacket to put it on the hanger beside the door and unbuttoned the two first buttons of his shirt before he turned to enter the kitchen.

----- o0o -----

Mycroft day, however, could only be described by a different word: Stressful.

After cooking and adding the last details to everything, Gregory had been caught on paper work for another hour.
He finally understood what his partner had felt that night.

It was a bad mix between being anxious, worried, and scared. So, when he heard the door he practically jumped from his chair so he didn’t seem like he had actually been waiting for three hours.

He fixed inexistent creases from his jacket and his tie. Mycroft certainly felt like he could wait another minute to finally see Gregory.

Gregory walked into the room slowly, not really noticing at first. Just hanging on that smell that remembered him of a million summers spent on the south of France with his grandparents.

“Myc..?”

For once Mycroft did not feel the need to correct him on the length of his name.

“Hello, Gregory.”

For the first time in his life, Greg did not felt the need to tell Mycroft he wasn’t named like that.

“I made this for you. I’ll have to reheat it now, but please sit down.”

“Oh, thanks. It smells wonderfully, actually.”

Mycroft picked up the plates that were lying on the table. He looked over to Gregory just in time to see him pass a hand through his silver hair. The man caught his eye and smiled softly at him.

It felt more than nice to come home to already made food and a cosy flat. He felt all the weight on his shoulders and the shouty woman’s voice leave him almost completely.

Soon enough the food was back again in its place, now warm. Mycroft served some wine on both glasses and sat down.

“I hope you like it, I think I managed to remember correctly that this dish was your favourite.”

“Yes, you have a good memory. This food means a lot of things to me.”

The moment Gregory took a bite into his mouth, he was mesmerised. It practically tasted like his grandmother’s did.

“Wow, this is brilliant… Really good, Mycroft.”

“Thank you, I made it with my greatest effort.”

Mycroft smiled softly at Greg and he couldn’t help to smile back. Mycroft couldn’t exactly pinpoint the reason why he had missed that smile so much.

They ate in silence for a while, until Mycroft could no longer keep it inside.

“Uh, there’s a reason I’m doing this. I mean this as an apology; I was a fool and inconsiderate. First of all I shouldn’t have forgotten a date as important as that and I won’t give you any excuses for it.”

He stated, his eyes not going anywhere Gregory in fear. Fear was something he had discovered when he had started dating Greg, it haunted him.

Greg hummed, not really knowing what to say to Mycroft. He looked at the politician, trying to catch his glance with his eyes.

“I’m so sorry.” Mycroft murmured in a much lower voice. “I’m sorry I didn’t remembered, I’m sorry I didn’t apologised sooner, I’m sorry you got close to feeling that way, even more sorry that you felt like that for this long. ”

Greg had to keep his jaw rom falling open. Seeing a Holmes say sorry was something rare, seeing a Holmes say that they are sorry more than two times in the same sentence was something extremely strange and to be honest, quite worrisome.

“Thank you for the apology, Myc… ”

Mycroft found himself instantly bracing for the ‘But’ implied in the sentence.

“I needed that, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to actually accept your apology right now…”

The relief that took over Mycroft was bliss.

“No, of course not… I only wanted to say that I’m sorry, nothing more. If you are as kind as to forget my forgetfulness, I didn’t expect it to be right now. ”

Greg nodded and smiled softly at Mycroft. He extended his hand and waited until Mycroft’s own hand laid above his to squeeze it softly.

“I’m more than half-way there, Mycroft. I just need some time to put everything back on my head. You forgetting it were just the final drop, ‘kay?”

Mycroft nodded slowly, a smile taking hold of his lips.

“Alright, I’ll give you all the time that you want.”

“It won’t be a lot, I just need a day tops.”

Mycroft nodded and with his other hand he raised his glass, which still had wine.

Greg took hold of his own and clicked it with Mycroft.

“Thank you for the food.” Gregory murmured.

“No, thank you, you’ve done more for me.” Mycroft replied.

They smiled at each other before they took a small sip. If Gregory needed time then he was going to give him all the time he needed, to Mycroft it no longer mattered. He was half-way to forgiving him and that’s all he needed for now.