Work Text:
Mycroft, back from a trip to put out a hot spot overseas, nodded at Clemmons, his Chief of Household Staff, as he walked in the door of the townhouse. Given the time, Clemmons would normally take his brief case, bringing it to the office, assuming he would be headed straight to bed. That she pointedly took his carry-on and coat, but not the briefcase told him all he needed to know.
Mycroft had not texted that he was home early because he had expected his husband to be asleep and did not want to wake him. He quirked a surprised brow at the news.
“It’s a quarter of four.”
“He’s been there since half-two. You know what that means.”
“Unfortunately, I do. Thank you and good night, Clemmons.”
“Good night, Sir.”
It meant Greg was working on a case at this late hour in their home office.
Mycroft Holmes had spent over a decade as a full-time active agent. It was a skill set that remained ingrained within long after he proved himself of better used calling the shot than actively making them. Skills Mycroft used now as he near silently entered the office.
He smiled indulgently at the spiky silver head of his husband that rested on crossed arms on top of the desk. The monitor had locked and gone completely black from inactivity. It meant Greg had fallen asleep at least thirty minutes ago. Gently closing the door behind him he entered the office and approached the desk.
Greg’s crossed arms were on wrinkled papers that looked about to fall to the floor. He reached out for a paper when a hand snaked out.
“Hands off!” a sleep filled gravelly voice stopped him, rescuing said papers without looking. “You’re not as quiet as you think.” Bleary eyes peered up, then blinked in realization, “Love! You’re home early!”
“Good morning, I am and you’re knackered from working late.”
“I am.” Greg admitted slowly rising to greet him with a kiss. “To bed now to sleep and I promise you later it will be.”
“What will it be later?”
Greg winked leading him out of the office.
“A good morning.”