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If she hadn't known where to look, Sally might have missed Mycroft Holmes, huddled in the far corner of the isolation cell. She recognized him, of course - from the many times he'd bailed his brother out of trouble. But he would not respond to her - or even look up when she spoke.
Greg had been busily coordinating teams when his phone rang. Seeing that it was Sally calling, he paused. "Hey, Sally. You find him?"
"Boss, you'd better come down here," she murmured into her phone as she walked back toward the elevator.
"Is he all right?" Greg asked, worry in his tone.
Sally shrugged, looking back at the man who seemed impossibly small, like a frightened child trying to hide. "He's awake and breathing but... it's like he's not all there."
"Let me finish up here, then I'll be down," he said, ending the call.
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It was nearly 10 minutes later when Greg stepped off the elevator and walked down the hall toward Eurus' isolated cell. Sally intercepted him. "Davis' team opened up the cell as soon as they got here - about an hour ago. There was a body right there" she pointed to the dark stain in the concrete floor "and we called the medical team to handle it. That's when Connors saw Mr. Holmes huddled in the corner like that. And they called me.
He hasn't moved since I got down here 20 minutes ago. Hasn't said a word, either. It's eerie," she shivered involuntarily.
"Thanks, Sal. I'll take it from here." He patted her shoulder as he entered the room.
"Hey, Mycroft," Greg said, trying to keep his voice light and casual.
No response came.
Greg approached slowly, coming to a stop at the utilitarian bed. "I'll just sit here with you a minute, all right?" He said as he sat down on the edge of the bed, just a few feet from Mycroft.
Still, no response.
"Eurus is in custody again - Sherlock found her," he continued, carrying on his half of the conversation. "And he was able to find John, so we could get him out of the well."
Mycroft let out a long exhale, and Greg could almost see a layer of tension dissolve from the man's shoulders.
"Talk to me, darlin'," Greg said softly, reaching out to tuck a wayward curl behind Mycroft's ear.
"This was my fault," Mycroft's voice was small and quiet. "All of it."
Greg shifted closer. "No. This -" he waved vaguely at the air "is your sister's fault. And that idiot governor's fault. And probably your uncle's fault, from what you’ve told me."
At that, Mycroft finally looked up, red-rimmed eyes wide in disbelief. "I'm going to have to tell our parents."
Greg draped an arm around him. "Yeah, you should. Do you want me to be there when you do?" he offered.
Mycroft smiled weakly. "I think Sherlock might be the better choice. He's accustomed to diverting Mummy's wrath. And this is certainly not the optimal time to introduce my partner to my parents." He leaned his head against Greg's knee.
"True," Greg stroked his hand along Mycroft's back reassuringly. "But I'll be waiting for you at home. So at least you'll have that to look forward to." He planted a soft kiss on the top of Mycroft's head before getting to his feet.
"Speaking of your brother, I want to go check on them. The medics should be done checking them both over at this point." He reached out a hand and helped Mycroft to his feet. "I'll send them down to check you over, too," he said in a tone that brooked no argument, and surprisingly, Mycroft gave none - just nodded.
Greg caught Mycroft's face in his hands, and pressed a kiss to his lips - almost chaste, but full of affection. "At some point, we should tell your brother, you know."
"You assume he does not know," Mycroft absently straightened his tie. "Let me assure you, he does. And in his way, he is happy for me. For us."
Greg barked a laugh. "Now if he and John could just figure themselves out..."
Finally, Mycroft eyes smiled with his lips. "At least something good will come from this mess. I predict a happy announcement within the week."