Work Text:
"I'll walk you home."
The first time Greg had said those words to Mycroft, they meant nothing more.
It was after an evening in the pub with Sherlock, John and the others. Where for once Mycroft had indulged in a little more drinking than usual and the thoughtful detective had walked him home.
Then what had been a one-time occasion had turned into a regular occasion.
"I'll walk you home."
Without any pretext, just like that, the detective was waiting for Mycroft, leaning against the wall as Mycroft left his office.
Always with the same words.
"I'll walk you home."
His step matched Mycroft's and the path to Mycroft's house seemed shorter each time.
Then the occasion became a habit.
Mycroft's heart beat faster when he spotted Greg.
Greg was waiting for him with anticipation.
The distance between them had disappeared and the inadvertent brushes at first had become comfortable touches.
As if one was looking for the closeness of the other.
After a while, home was no longer automatically Mycroft's, it was sometimes Greg's.
Until today, when it was Mycroft who was leaning against the doorstep of Greg's office
It was Mycroft who waited for Greg, focused on his work, to notice him.
It was Greg who had the pleasant surprise of hearing Mycroft say these words to him, "I'll walk you home."
Even though it didn't matter who was walking the other home.
Because now it wasn't Mycroft's home, it wasn't Greg's home.
It was their home.
"I'll walk you home."
The habit had become a tradition.
Those little known traditions that only people who love each other know, like an intimate secret.
"Let's go home"