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“What do you think you’re doing?” Mycroft asked Greg’s receding back.
Greg spoke over his shoulder, but did not stop walking. “Getting the fuck away from you before one of your bulldogs have to take me down because I forgot you are Sherlock’s brother and slug you!”
“I did not give you permission to leave, D.I. Lestrade."
“You’re so observant, Mr. Holmes, observe that I did not ask.”
His back to him, it is not Greg’s fault he does not see Mycroft’s eyes narrow with chagrin.
----
“What do you think you’re doing?” an annoyed Mycroft snatched his arm from the hand that held it. “I told you; you may leave now, Lestrade.”
“Look I get that you’re not in the best mood right now, but don’t take it out on me.” Greg removed his hand, but raised a warning finger. “You can’t dismiss like one of your minions, Homes. I called YOU remember? I care for Sherlock too. I’m staying.”
As he plopped tiredly into a chair, it is not Greg’s fault he is unaware of Mycroft’s nod of respect.
----
“What do you think you’re doing?” a surprised Mycroft asked a little louder than intended.
“Sorry! Sorry!” Greg held his hand “I didn’t quite have full grasp of it when you let go and I didn’t want it to fall and spill.”
“And why are you still holding it?” Cool blue-grey eyes scoured his.
“You -erm- surprised me with your outburst – I froze.” Greg blushed profusely, quickly taking the salt shaker from him at last.
Head down, it is not Greg’s fault he does not notice the flash of Mycroft’s disappointment in the loss of contact.
----
“What do you think you’re doing?!” an amused Mycroft answered without preamble when Greg called.
“Just letting the two light weights dry out a bit, and suffer a lot, for a couple of hours before I let them loose for being a drunken nuisance, just not enough of one for a citation.” Greg chuckled.
“Oh, that’s too bad.” Mycroft gave a dramatic disappointed sigh. “If you could be so kind as to yell at one or both at top volume when you do, I’d be most appreciative.”
“I’ll do my best, Mycroft.”
“You always do, Gregory.”
Greg hears the soft chuckle, but it is not Greg’s fault he does not see Mycroft’s pleased smile that lingers as they ring out.
----
“W-Wh-What do you think you’re DOING?!” a stunned Mycroft froze as Greg solid arms pulled him into a hug when he returned to the Governor’s office at Sherrinford. “And what are you doing here, Greg?”
“Sorry! Sorry! I didn’t mean to – I mean I meant to – I – oh, bloody fuck! I was so happy to see you out of that cell – I forgot myself!” Greg responded. “Sherlock and John told me what happened and I had to see you for myself, Myc.”
Each man pointedly ignores that Greg still holds his hand and Mycroft has not stopped him until Mycroft himself lets go when they hear someone approach.
Greg pretends it is not his fault that he noticed how reluctant Mycroft was to let go.
----
“What do you think you’re doing, Mr. Lestrade-Holmes?!” Mycroft hoarsely whispers when Greg unexpectedly shoves him back against the seat, Greg’s hands deftly undoing Mycroft’s belt.
“Oh, if you gotta ask, Mr. Holmes-Lestrade… ”
It is totally Mycroft’s fault Greg took advantage of their private jet to become the newest members of the Mile High Club.