Work Text:
Greg stopped in front of the plain townhouse. As plain as a townhouse in Mayfair could be. He checked his phone again, but the message from Sherlock was still the same. Greg was still uncertain whether Sherlock had written it himself. And if so, he must have been at least drunk. Otherwise, he would not have voiced his concern this openly. But maybe it was, after all that had happened in Sherrinford.
My brother is not answering my texts.
Anthea said he is busy with work.
My brother can't take care of himself.
Do that for him.
And under it were instructions on how to go through Mycroft's security. He was half expecting Sherlock to have messed with him and instead of getting through the security, he would start off the alarm.
Greg suppressed a sigh, opened the gate and walked up to the front door. His fingers were cold when he typed in the password. He heard the soft sound of a camera zooming in and then to his shock a voice started to speak.
"Please identify yourself." His brows furrowed. That wasn't something Sherlock had predicted would happen. Greg cleared his throat.
"Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade", he answered. There was a pause and then another voice, one he had known as long as knowing Mycroft, began to speak.
"A pleasure Detective Inspector. Please excuse Alfred, he is new. I will let you through." The door opened with a gentle click.
"T... Thank you, Anthea," he muttered, standing still for another moment.
"Of course, I will inform Mr Holmes that you are coming." Greg nodded, sure she would see it somehow and entered the townhouse, closing the door behind him. It was quiet inside. Greg felt like an intruder but he kept walking nonetheless. The rooms he passed were dark and quiet, but light was shining through the door at the far end of the corridor. He stopped in front of it, hesitating just for a moment. Then he knocked, waiting for an answer. When there were none, he opened the door slowly.
Mycroft sat behind a desk at the far end of the room, eyes never leaving his laptop in front of him.
"What can I help you with Detective Inspector?", Mycroft asked, his fingers flying over the keyboard. He was still not looking up. Greg nearly rolled his eyes at Mycroft's formal address. He had thought the long shared evenings over something good to eat and drink had led to them calling each other by first names.
"I heard that you don't answer your phone anymore. You are only ever doing this when work gets too much and you start to think it's more important than anything else."
For a split second, Mycroft's eyes lifted up from his laptop towards Greg, one eyebrow raised. Greg ignored it and stepped further into the room.
"I brought dinner with me", he explained, holding up the bag of takeaway. He had driven through half the city to get takeaway at one of Mycroft's favourite French restaurants.
"I'm not hungry." But only a second later, Greg was able to hear a soft, grumbling sound, unmistakably Mycroft's stomach protesting. Greg sighed and opened his mouth but Mycroft was faster.
"This matter is more important than my greedy stomach."
"It's absolutely not."
"This can't wait!"
"It probably can for twenty minutes."
"If I can't finish this now, there will be no twenty minutes for something so unnecessary as eating dinner!" Greg's heart beat fast against his chest.
"If you don't eat, you will not have the energy to continue to work!" He let out a sigh and closed his eyes for a brief second to calm himself down. It would do no good if he shouted at Mycroft.
"We can argue about this later," he muttered, placing the takeaway on the edge of one of the cabinets and walking over to Mycroft's desk. He sat down on the edge of it and could feel the other man's following eyes.
"Whether you or your work is more important." Mycroft's lips parted but before he could say anything, Greg continued. "But as someone who deeply cares about you, I must insist that you eat now." For a moment, Mycroft just stared at Greg, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. His shoulders were tense though.
"Gregory, please," he mumbled breathlessly, his eyes drifting shortly to his laptop. But Greg knew he nearly had him. Slowly, Greg closed the laptop with one hand and held the other out to Mycroft.
"Let's eat, Mycroft. Or do I need to get my handcuffs to get you to obey?" Greg joked and despite the tension in his body a light smile crossed Mycroft's lips.
Lean fingers stretched out and were placed into Greg's waiting hand. Greg pulled softly and Mycroft came to stand. He blinked a few times and let out a huff. Greg waited until Mycroft's eyes met his again.
"Let's eat," Greg repeated his words. He turned to get the takeaway. He had expected Mycroft to let go of his hand but instead, the taller man followed him, hand still in Greg's.