Chapter Text
Dinner had ended, Sherlock had left, and John has been put to bed. Greg was grateful for the moment of silence as Mycroft flipped through a book on the other side of the bed, but the quiet was ruined by the pit forming in his stomach.
“You’re being too loud.” Mycroft said as he flipped to another page, eyes never leaving his book.
“I’m not making any noise!” Greg defended himself.
Mycroft looked up, staring over the top of his reading glasses. “Not physically, but your head is in full gear and those machines are very loud.”
Greg sighed, letting his eyes settle on the book he held in his hand. Greg has randomly grabbed something off the side table and flipped it open to give the guise of not thinking about John. Greg was a top-grade police officer, but he was a terrible criminal. He wouldn’t be able to hide anything if his life depended on it.
“I’m just worried about John.” Greg finally sighed, letting the book close as he sat it on the bed-side table. “I’m worried about what this may mean, about how it will effect him in the long run. And that’s not even scratching the surface of everything else.”
“Greg, my love, take a moment.” Mycroft set his book aside and toon one of Greg’s hands. “We will figure this out. I do not believe this will cause negative effects in the long run. To be honest, it may be best to keep him in Little headspace for a bit longer to get him more accustomed to himself.”
Greg sighed, shaking his head. “But what about when he comes up? What if he refuses to let himself go down again because of this? What if he’s too scared to get stuck in headspace that he refuses to ever enter it again.”
Just as Mycroft opened his mouth to respond, both men’s phones chirped to grab their attention. They looked at each other in a questioning glance before turning to grab their phones.
“It’s from Sherlock,” Mycroft said as he tapped on his phone screen.
“‘He likes dinosaurs and rabbits.’ What does that mean?” Greg read off.
Another beep from both phones brought up a second message.
“‘And he forgets to ask for things, but you can see what he wants in his eyes.’ Is he giving us instructions?” Mycroft scoffed. “As if we haven’t been with John all weekend.”
“We were, but not the way Sherlock was. They were playing for two whole days. Perhaps he does have some things we could use to our advantage.” Greg replies, looking at his phone as it buzzed once again.
“‘He will be scared, Don’t let him hide.’ What does he mean by that?” Mycroft shook his head. “John has never been one to run form anything.”
“John Watson, maybe,” Greg said, standing up to grab his robe. “John-John, however, is a different story.”
Mycroft sighed as he stood up and reached form his own robe. “I suppose we will not be spending the night with us alone, then.”
Greg laughed, leaning in as Mycroft tied the robe around himself. Greg place a kiss on Mycroft lips, caressing his cheek as he said, “Better luck next time.”
Mycroft gave a half smile, mouth already forming his court reply before it was shut off by an loud alarm and flashing lights.
“What on earth!” Greg said and he cupped his hands over his ears.
Mycroft’s eyes went wide. “The house alarm!”
Greg felt his soul tear from his body as he reached for the door and raced down the hall. Mycroft followed, holding a nine millimeter revolver he kept stashed between the mattress and the box spring. Someone was in the house, and Greg’s instincts had him running down the hall with no regard to his own safely or the chance of the person finding them. Right now, he had a Little that was more important.
Greg started cursing himself for letting Sherlock pick the room directly across from the front stairs where the entrance was only a few yards away down a single flight of stairs. They should have him at the back of the house, where Mycroft and Greg could protect them in a situation like this.
As they took the last turn, Greg could finally see the bedroom door, decked out in starship stickers. His heart sank the moment he realized the door was open. Greg’s feet, however, didn’t betray him until he stood in the entryway, staring into an empty room.