Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

 Second chances

Chapter 1

Greg was on his way home, the night still early but his plans over.  He had a date, it was supposed to be fun and friendly, and he met the woman when he did his grocery shopping.  Cliché yes, but he didn't mind.  To him it was a bonus that he didn't pick her up in a bar (one bad experience and a self-made promise to never do it again.)

Truth was, there wasn't anything wrong with her, the problem was, and he just didn't get that feeling that it was going to go anywhere.  The potential for an amazing night of sex was there and honestly he could do with a night of that, it was the connection that was missing. 

He sighed as he walked home; he sure picked his moments for a soul connection.

He should just be honest with himself and stop making excuses.  The problem was that there was only one person he wanted, but can't have. 

Mycroft.

So he keeps himself busy with his work and every now and then he would go on a date.  He would tell himself it's about a chance to get out and have someone to hold, some companionship.  The truth was however he was trying to get over Mycroft. 

They had a brief relationship but that all ended some months ago.  They had a huge fight which to this day he can't pinpoint the exact cause. 

Their incompatibility,  work, security levels all played a part,  even Sherlock who said a few things that in all fairness could've been left unsaid.

In the end Greg left Mycroft's office with a bruised ego, drowning eyes and a broken heart. 

It's been nearly a year and he has moved on, or tried to.  One thing Greg wasn't able to really come to terms with, was how against Sherlock was against their relationship, and now he and John were in one.  All happy together and definitely not lonely like he was, or Mycroft.  Greg just smiled and congratulated them, before leaving Baker Street, John could see there was something bothering him but didn't elaborate. 

Just as well, Greg didn't feel like explaining. He didn't feel like doing a lot of things. 

For some reason even a night of plain unattached sex was too much for him to do, she was eager, but he wanted more.   Maybe it was the phase in his life, or his age, the thing is, and he was done with the shallowness, the feelings on surface alone. 

He finally reached his place and went inside, the lights were off, but it was so small and he was so used to it that by now, he could go in, lock the door, put his stuff down and made his way to the kitchen or bedroom all in the dark.

He made it all the way to his bedroom, undressing in the dark and climbed in bed, the sheets feeling extra cold in the oversized bed.

Greg groaned before his eyes were even open, the shrill sound of his phone invading his peaceful sleep.   Another day in paradise.

He was called to Baker Street around the afternoon and made his way over, his leather soft case loaded with copies of the case and reports he had so far.  How Sherlock found out about the case he wouldn't know, the fact that he is offering to help is a pleasant surprise in itself already. 

To his surprise Mycroft was there as well and from the looks of it engaged in another 'I'm smarter than you' match.  He made a conscious decision not to physically roll his eyes, sigh deeply or snorted; they would see it immediately and comment on it.  The trick he has learned is to play it cool.

"Lestrade, did you bring it?" Sherlock asked, smiling sarcastically at his brother before he turned around to Greg. 

"Hello Greg, oh hi Sherlock, how are you?  Oh fine, just talking to Mycroft.  Yeah? Great, oh I brought the case like you asked.  Oh you did, well thank you." Sherlock and Mycroft stared at him confounded at his little monologue with himself. 

Sherlock stepped closer, his eyes not leaving Greg’s.

"Are you high?"

"No, I was demonstrating how a normal conversation usually goes."

"What makes you think anything in this room is normal?" Sherlock retorted.  Greg did take a deep breath and shook his head, because really how do you respond to that.  Sherlock seeing the Greg's reaction smiled in victory, Greg in an attempt to keep some dignity pulled a face and gave Sherlock the file.   Mycroft in the meantime had stood up and watched their interaction with interest.  Greg turned to him.

"Hello Mycroft." Mycroft may have been a well-used name by now, but to Greg he will always call him My in his heart. 

"Hello Gregory, how have you been?" Mycroft asked politely. Greg opened his mouth to answer was interrupted by Sherlock.

"You know very well how he is doing, so save the 'normal interaction ' we have a case."

Mycroft closed his eyes briefly, a feeble attempt to control his emotions and retort.  Greg pretended it never happened and started filling Sherlock in on the case.  Sherlock looked through everything before turning to Greg.

"Leave this with me, I'll have the case solved by tomorrow then you can go back and go on with your failing attempt to move on, which is a shame that last night's date was a disaster, she was willing yet you weren't.  How telling." The room became quiet Greg didn't dare to look at Mycroft, although he could feel his eyes burning into him.  Instead he took a breath, straightens his back and replied.

"Tomorrow you say? Thank you, I'll start making plans for a more successful venture this time. Good day." With that he turned around and walked out, it took Sherlock ten seconds to get with the programme.  He rushed to the stairs.

"Sarcasm doesn't suit you Inspector.” Greg looked up the stairs.

"And cruelty you, yet you don't let it hold you back, why should I?" Greg didn’t stay to see or hear Sherlock’s reaction, his anger overruling his common sense. 

That was it, his day was spoiled.

Fortunately he didn't hear back from Sherlock for the rest of the day, however he was just settled in at home when his phone notification light went on 

"I apologise for my brother today. MH."

Greg eyed the text, uncertain how to respond, what do you say to something like that?

"It's fine.  GL."

The ultimate, universal lie, polite enough to answer, forward enough to dispel any further questions.

"It's not; I noticed how it affected you.  I'm sorry your attempts for future companionship are proving to be difficult.  MH."

Greg clenched his hands, the knuckles white against the black phone.

"Yeah you looked all torn up with my attempt to get over you.  GL."

Greg replied so fast it was only after he pressed send that he realised what he actually said.

"Bollocks" he exclaimed loudly.  His closed fist hit the armrest with a thud.  The reply came five minutes later. 

"I'm sorry.  MH."

Personally he was tired of hearing sorry, it didn’t help and it most certainly didn’t give him the closure he needed.

"Exactly why did we break up? I have two theories so to speak.  Both not making me feel better. GL"

"You know why, it was a mutual decision.  MH.”

"What's your theories? MH."

"Mutual my arse.

1. I wasn't good enough for you or

2. Because Sherlock threw a tantrum, because if that's the case it sucked big time. GL"

Greg had no idea where he got the courage to be so direct to Mycroft about their past relationship, it wasn't mutual, and he just wasn't given much choice in the matter.  When Mycroft is on a roll, there was no stopping him.  One part of him was wondering what Mycroft was going to say back, the other part hoped he didn't.  

He did.

"What do you mean it wasn’t mutual? MH"

"You were always more than I could ever hope for. MH"

Oh please.  Greg was seriously starting to lose the little patience he had, how can one man be so dense?

"You're memory is better than mine, so why don't you replay it? Especially the part where I tried to change your mind, and you became a cold bastard and told me to stop being so childish.  GL"

Greg didn’t receive reply for some time, instead he plugged his phone in the charger, took out a microwave meal, pierced it maybe a little more than what was strictly necessary and took a shower. 

Walking into his kitchen he glanced at the phone, no response.  Shrugging it off he pulled out his meal and ate. 

Finally a beeping sound alerted him to a text, either work or Mycroft.  It was Mycroft.

"Can you perhaps meet me for dinner; I’d like to discuss something with you? MH."

"What is it Mycroft?  I'm tired. GL."

"I don't want to discuss our relationship over the phone. MH."

"What relationship? GL."

His phone rang.  He should’ve known Mycroft would call instead of texting. 

"Mycroft."

"I want to apologise for the way I treated you and to clear up any misunderstandings between us."

His voice was tense but Greg didn't care for it at the moment. 

"There's no misunderstanding Mycroft, we broke up, Sherlock was unhappy with us, you were... I don’t want to talk about it anymore,  we're alone,  I know I am and Sherlock is in a happy relationship,  tell me, if you showed your unhappiness with that,  do you think he would break it off with John?"

Where Mycroft was tense, Greg was tired and frustrated and had no problem letting it out.  He still harboured some anger and resentment towards Sherlock. 

"Sherlock wasn’t the main reason we parted. There were other factors involved as well."

Greg took a deep breath, Mycroft would always take his brother’s side, he didn’t even respond to Greg's question about Sherlock’s relationship with John

"You said, I remember something along the lines of too busy, and just too different.  Another thing, tell me why now all of a sudden are you interested in talking about it?  Wait a minute you heard Sherlock talking about my date?"

Greg eyes widen in a typical light bulb moment, it all makes sense now.

"She was very eager in sleeping with you."

And the award for the jealous idiot goes to.....

"So you're jealous? Want to tell me about your attempts on moving on?" Greg asked, and to his dismay notice his voice sounded just as envious as Mycroft's. 

"Gregory this is getting us nowhere. Can we please meet up to talk?"

"What difference is it going to make Mycroft?  It's not as though we can reconcile." Greg was tired, his heart was very keen to talk to Mycroft or get back together, but his head have been protecting his sanity and heart for so long, it didn't want to let go.

"Why not?" That took him by surprise, does Mycroft really want to reconcile?  After all this time?  What about the excuses for them not being together and all that?

"Because nothing has changed, we still have the same jobs, meaning the same excuses still exist, Sherlock is in a relationship with John, but that is not connected to us. So tell me what has changed?"

"I did." Mycroft said it so softly that Greg was doubtful on whether he actually heard it.  Something happened and he wanted to what that was. Can he actually believe Mycroft and allow himself to hope? 

"Mycroft..."

"Meet me for dinner, please?"  Greg sighed, this was turning out to be one hell of a day, and he ran his hand through his hair, his curiosity winning.

"Where?" The answer was swift and direct.

"My place."

"I'll be there in half an hour."

"Thank you." Mycroft replied and there was a moment where he wanted to say something else but thought against it and hangs up. Greg stared at his phone for a while before he stood up.  Since it was just them, he wasn’t going to bother with a new pair of clothes, his jeans and shirt was good enough.  Pulling on shoes and grabbing his jacket he left his place.

Chapter Text

Second chances

Chapter 2

It's been an hour and Greg still hasn't shown up. The ride over usually takes about twenty to thirty minutes depending on the traffic. Mycroft eyed his watch and set his lips in a thin line. Greg clearly wasn't going to turn up. Decision made up he stood from the table he had set, with a heavy heart he blew out the candles and didn't even notice how dark it was in the room. He was an idiot to think Greg would forgive him and give him a second chance.

He was going to explain to the man tonight, how he was afraid of the strong feelings he had and how he wanted to give Greg everything he could. Mind, body and soul. The relationship may have been brief but Mycroft knew there would never be anyone else. He was sad that Sherlock didn't approve the relationship and he never even asked him why. He was going to come clean, tell Greg he loves him and just the idea that Greg would go on a date with someone else nearly gave him a heart attack. He had no idea how he would've reacted if it was a man. Anybody really, who gets to see that smile and be blessed with that laughter, that strong calloused hand to hold them, he wanted that, he had it, and fear took it away from him.

Closing his eyes he took a breath to get his emotions under control, opening his eyes he switched the oven off, he'll give the food to his cleaning staff, or Anthea, she always enjoy his cooking. With heavy steps he climbed the stairs to his room, his phone silent in the absence of Greg's texts.

Mycroft didn't receive anything from Greg on his way to work and Mycroft made no attempt to call. Greg made his position clear; now in the morning he pushed his heart away and let his mind rule the situation. He never expected Greg to lie that but that's done now.

The only he has to do now, was to convince that little voice in his head that it is very unlike Greg to not show up. Ever since he met the man Greg would let him know if something had happen. That voice was getting louder by the second so that when his watch said nine o'clock he lifted his phone and dialled. He was calling the work line, so that Greg had to talk to him.

The phone just rang. That was strange, well he might be out on a case or in the bathroom. He'll try the official number instead of Greg's direct one.

"Aah yes. Good morning, can you put me through to Detective Inspector Lestrade please?"

"He hasn't. No calls? Yes, I understand, it’s very unlike him. No thank you, I’ll call again. Have a good day." He frowned, his mind working overtime with scenarios. Greg didn't show up for work. No calls and no one can reach him. He dialled Greg's mobile.

"You've reached Detective Inspector Lestrade, please leave your details and I will get back to you."

Mycroft waited for the beep.

"Gregory, I didn't hear from you last night, I assume everything is alright?" He hanged up and bit his lip before he redialled.

"It also appears that you didn't go in to work, is everything alright?"

He waited a full minute before calling again.

"Gregory where are you? Don't make me use every single resource I can to find you, you know I will. I'm giving you five minutes and then I'm coming for you."

He watched the clock.

Five minutes

He started tapping his fingers on his desk; he should’ve known Greg wouldn't just stay away without a valid reason.

Four minutes.

Greg hasn’t replied and the tapping was irritating him, even though he is doing it.

Call Anthea, tell her to get the car ready.

Yup, good idea.

Okay car is coming around.

Three minutes.

His phone is decidedly still quiet. If that detective knows what's good for him, he will call back right now.

Nothing.

Right.

Mycroft pulled his keyboard closer and started typing, his screen filled with codes.

Two minutes

'Hundred and twenty seconds Gregory, you better get dialling.' Mycroft whispered to his phone while typing the screen showing his home, the time stamp showing him walking out of the door, his jacket over his one arm. He watches as Greg got into the car and started driving. So he did left.

One minute.

Mycroft was too busy following Greg's car down the streets to pay attention to the clock. If he was on his way, what happened?

Mycroft gasped as a cold, yet terrifying thought occurred to him. Greg was tired. He was driving at night.... his heart started to race as he leaned forward in his chair his eyes glued to the screen.

The timer forgotten, the clock over its intended countdown.

It happened so fast Mycroft missed the moment of impact. Greg was at a traffic light, it changed from red to green and Greg's car made it to the middle of the intersection when a truck slammed into him. It was on the passenger side but the truck was at such a speed that it pushed Greg's car all the way over to the other side of the street into the wall of the shop on the corner. It folded the car in half.

"Anthea!" He yelled, unfazed of the fact he was yelling. Anthea came bursting in. Mycroft looked up. “Gregory was in a car accident last night. Corner of Main Street and Mall Road. 20:34 pm, find anything you can on the other car. The car here?" Unable to keep the frantic worry out of his voice.

"Yes. Which hospital?" She asked already typing as she followed Mycroft's instructions. Mycroft forwarded the video.

"Bart’s. I need to know why anyone hasn’t been informed."

"On it." She replied and followed him out to the car.

It was only in the car that Mycroft realised what happened. Greg was in an accident, a very serious one, because he asked Greg to come over. Next was the guilt, he knew Greg wasn't the type of person who would go back on his word. Greg is the type of man who held a person's word above all else. He should’ve known something was wrong, he should’ve look for Greg last night already, why didn't he?

"Oh God." He whispered in the car, and Anthea turned to him immediately, her face etched in worry. Mycroft's eyes found her and she leaned a bit forward.

"Sir?"

"I abandoned him."

"What?"

"Last night, I just assumed he wasn’t going to bother showing up, after he promised he was on his way. I thought he got cold feet, I should've known he wouldn't do something like that. I should've...." Mycroft’s eyes lost their focus as they stared.

"Stop!" Anthea interrupted, watching the emotions and turmoil cross his face. He blinked and eyed her closely.

"It doesn't matter now, wouldn't, could've and should've changes nothing, you taught me that. What matters now is that we get to the hospital and sort this out. I bet he is already tormenting the nurses to get out." Mycroft gave her a tight smile, yes; Gregory is stubborn and hates being confined to one place.

“I’m sure we can help with that.” He answered, yes; Gregory is going to be fine.

Chapter Text

 Second chances

Chapter 3

When they arrived at the hospital, Mycroft had some difficulty finding Greg’s room as he wasn’t on the Next of kin list, a few calls later he was allowed to see Greg.  The first sign that things weren’t right is when they were escorted to the Critical Care unit.

“How bad is he hurt?” Mycroft asked into the silence of their footsteps.  The nurse gave him a grim look.

“The doctor will explain everything.”

Mycroft laid his hand on her shoulder, stopping in the corridor.

“Tell me. Now.”  She visibly paled from the look he gave her.

“He is in a coma.  He hasn’t regain consciousness or showed any signs of improvement.  The first 24 hours are very critical.”  Mycroft armed dropped to his sides, he could hear a small gasp behind him; Anthea.  He needed to keep his composure.

“Who is on his next of kin? And why haven’t they been notified?”

“We couldn’t get hold of him.” Mycroft looked over to Anthea indicating she must step closer.  He turned back to the nurse.

“Who is it, shell find them.”  The nurse looked at them.

“Let me check in his file, the nurse’s station is around the corner, along with Mr. Lestrade’s room.”  He gave her a brief nod and they started moving again.

“It’s Detective Inspector.”  Mycroft added, more to himself.  They stopped at the nurse’s station where she quickly went through the files; Mycroft used the time to look around and tried to find Greg’s room.

He couldn't. 

"Here we are.  A Dr. John Watson." Mycroft frown deepened, why on earth didn't they get hold of John?

As he turned to Anthea she already answered.

"On my way." Mycroft nodded in reply.  Anthea walked a few steps before she turned around.

"Sir?"

Mycroft tilted his head.

"He's going to be fine. He will." Not waiting for a reply she left leaving him there with the nurse.

"When you're ready sir?" Mycroft shook his head to get in focus. 

"Lead the way." Mycroft followed her as they pass two rooms before they reached Greg's. 

He was prepared for seeing Greg, unconscious but not for this.  Greg was on life support, but he had a broken leg; and from the cast that covered the whole leg, up to his hip, it wasn’t a normal fracture.  Both wrists were in a support and half of his face was blue and purple.  The question on how on earth did he survived flashed across his mind and he shook his head to get rid of it.

"Any internal injuries?" He asked. 

"Several." Mycroft spun around to the voice next to him; he never even noticed that the attending doctor came over.

"Several?" He asked.

"Yes. The usual, broken ribs, broken bones, to be honest, it’s the head injury that is the biggest concern.  According to witnesses he was knocked out the moment of impact and hasn't showed any signs of waking up.  Currently we're watching him closely for intracranial pressure."  Mycroft closed his eyes.  Swelling in his brain; extremely dangerous.  He had so many questions,  yet none of them asked itself,  and the only thing he was feeling was the guilt and devastation that Greg had been alone in the hospital since last night,  the one man who comes running when asked was alone in his time of need.

The shock of that thought made his doubled over in pain.  The doctor watched as the emotions played on Mycroft's face and stood back. Instead he walked away and came back with a more comfortable chair than the hard plastic ones. It wasn’t much, but would help.

"Here, take this, I take it you'll be staying?"

Mycroft could only nod and allowed the doctor to push the chair in his hands and pushed them both inside next to Greg's bed. Mycroft's eyes found Greg's hand closest to him.

"Stay as long as you'd like, I’ll make my rounds and come back to check on you."

Mycroft didn't trust himself to speak and just nodded, his eyes zooming on the man in the bed.

He waited till the doctor left when he slowly reached out his hand and touched Greg's fingers,  the only part that he could touch, that or his elbow. 

It was in the silence of the room, broken by the sound of the machines that Mycroft felt his world collapsing.  If Greg dies, or never wakes up, he will cease to a man.  Why should he try and keep fighting when the one thing that has his heart so completely is in risk of taking it with him to the grave? 

He broke up with him, because of silly reasons and Greg was right, if the tables were turned, would Sherlock made the sacrifice? If he told Sherlock he was unhappy with the relationship between him and John would Sherlock break it off?

No.

And Mycroft wouldn’t expect it of him, he knows what John means to Sherlock, he could see the chance from day one and would rather die, to see that bond destroyed. 

He shifted his seat closer and slowly moved his fingers between Greg’s, it felt so intimate, the pale long fingers of himself,  interlacing with the broad thick fingers of Greg’s.  It looked perfect to him. 

Blocking out the world he leaned his head forward as to rest on the edge of the bed.  Closing his eyes, he allowed himself a few silent tears.  He need to make this right, he just hope he will have the chance.

Chapter Text

 Second chances

Chapter 4

Mycroft was so in thought that he didn’t even hear the footsteps approaching, it wasn’t a soft thud of the nurses, it was heels with the distinct loudness of two men.  

Mycroft still didn't acknowledge that there were people in the room, he didn’t know.  Anthea stood in the doorway, Sherlock and John behind her, her eyes were filling with tears so rapid she was unsure if she'll be quick enough to hide or wipe it away. 

Sherlock stared at the man in the bed, his eyes taking it all in quicker than his brain can process it. His eyes finally landed on his brother,  his head resting on his folded arm on the edge, half hidden away, his other hand was next to Greg's their fingers interwoven.  His brother made no attempt to acknowledge them.

"Sir?" Anthea’s voice was soft and trembling, as if she was scared that if she spoke up loudly; Greg would be disturbed.  Mycroft didn't move. 

Sherlock moved past her to get to Mycroft.  

"Mycroft?" He asked, his bass voice breaking the fragile silence.  Mycroft started to move and lifted his eyes to his brother, they were red rimmed but his cheeks were dry.  He tilted his eyes, the confusion in his eyes.

"Why didn't you approve of us?" Sherlock took a step back, his mouth half open with a response that froze on his tongue. 

Anthea look down, her way to get her own thoughts in control.   John inched forward.

"What do you mean 'us'?" Mycroft turned to John.

"Why didn't you answer the call, you’re his next of kin." Sherlock and John looked down in shame, ah, they didn't wanted to be interrupted.   Mycroft gave a brief hollow of a laugh.   Typical. 

Mycroft felt as though he could scream, or throw something against a wall, or punch something.  While they were happily embracing their relationship Gregory was alone, fighting for his life, what may have preventable if they were still together.

Sherlock turned back to Mycroft, the embarrassment making way for worry and concern.

"How did you found out?"

"CCTV, he didn’t show up for work." There was absolutely no way Mycroft was going to tell them he was on his way over to him,  not yet, not without getting angry that they all basically let him down. 

Or maybe he should.

"He was on his way to me, I asked him over, but he never showed up, I thought he was getting cold feet, and didn't pay much attention until this morning.  I called his office, he didn’t pick up, called the desk and they informed me he never showed up, nor called in.  His mobile was off as well." Mycroft replied as he refused to look at either of them.  Sherlock was surprised but hid it well and John picked up his file. Mycroft turned back to his brother. The emotions clear on his face.

'I'm going to lose him aren't I?'

Sherlock swallowed. 

'His strong, the statistics is in his favour.'  Mycroft pulled his face in a grimace.

"No its not, he is in a coma with no signs of waking up and they are watching for swelling or bleeding on his brain." John turned to the two brothers, wondering what he missed.   They kept staring at each other.

"You haven't answered me." Mycroft asked.

"About what?" Mycroft flared his nostrils as he jumped up.

"Why?  Sherlock, I deserve to know why you were so against us that I had to break it off to please you!  Will you do the same for me?" Fear briefly flashed across Sherlock’s face at the thought of being without John.

"It's not the same! I love him." He retorted, ignoring both Anthea and John who were watching.

"And you think I didn't love him? Or he me? Was the idea that I could possibly be happy with him so terrible that you just had to prevent it?"

"How was I supposed to know you loved him!?" Sherlock defended.

"You could've asked me!" Mycroft yelled back, before replying.

"You could've read him." He pointed to Greg. "He has never been able to hide what he feels, or where you so distracted by your hatred for me and the constant battle to get on over me that you couldn't have bothered?  No, instead you mocked him for trying to move on, for trying to forget, have you ever even stopped to ask him how he was doing? “Mycroft stood in the middle of the room, his breath uneven.   Sherlock just stared at his brother unable to speak.  John held out his hand as he stepped between them.

“That is unnecessary Mycroft.  Were you and Greg together?”  He asked.  Mycroft turned his attention to him.

“Yes, Dr. Watson, we were involved, but my dearest brother threw a tantrum and threatened to go back to his old ways, leaving me no choice but to sever the relationship.  Oh, and concerning your statement about unnecessary I’d rather keep quiet, when I have to take into account you were the one he entrusted if something were to happen, yet your sex life was more important.  Tell me, if Anthea didn’t notify you, exactly how long would it have taken you to respond?”  John looked away, he did see the random calls this morning, but they decided on having a breakfast and didn’t want to spoil his moment with Sherlock.

“I’m sorry.” Sherlock whispered.

Mycroft didn’t reply, instead he picked up his umbrella and left the room before his emotions would completely leave him.

Chapter Text

 Second chances

Chapter 5

Anthea found Mycroft in the hospital’s square; he was sitting on a bench his fingers playing with the umbrella handle standing between his legs. His eyes were staring ahead. Squaring her shoulders she walked towards him and sat down next to him with a plastic bag. In her other hand was two cardboard cups.

"Here." She commanded and gave him a big cardboard container. He turned to her and took the cup, taking a sip. He pulled his face.

"I know it’s the best they had." She replied and started unpacking the rest of the things she bought, there were two packets of sandwiches, two paper bags with some sweet pastry, a bottle of water a bar of chocolate and some wine gums sweets. He eyed her conspicuously but didn't reply. 

"Thank you." He finally opted for and drank some more. Sitting back against the bench he leaned his umbrella against the armrest and picked up one of the sandwiches. Anthea did the same and without speaking they sat there in silence, eating their food and having coffee. 

"You do know that Greg is going to be fine." Anthea kept staring ahead as she spoke. 

"You don't know that." Mycroft replied as he put the empty container back in the bag and took out the pastry; it was a small chocolate brownie.

"We've known him for years now, and he has always been more resilient than a waterproof watch. You remarked on his stubbornness on more than one occasion. This will not stop him."

"But will he forgive me for doubting him?" Mycroft asked, the guilt still haunting him.

"Of course. You're not infallible or untouchable, as much as you wish you were and believe me he will be the first one to tell you off."

Mycroft allowed himself a small ghost of a smile. 

"The problem now is what are you going to do about your brother?"

"Nothing. I've spent years trying to get his approval and I'm done, I'm going to spend all my time and resources with Gregory, first thing is to change his next of kin to me and you and then to rebuild our relationship."

"We'll make the changes once he is awake; can’t imitate the signature of a comatose man, it might get noticed."

"Indeed."

They finished their brownies in silence, the air doing Mycroft's temperament a world of good.

Anthea was the first to move, she removed the water, chocolate and sweets before she knotted the bag with their waste. 

"Here take this, it should sustain you until I get back, in the meantime I'll take care of everything."

Mycroft placed the chocolate in his jacket along with the sweets and held the bottle in his free hand, the umbrella in the other.

"Thank you Anthea."

"You're welcome, keep me informed."

"Will do." Giving her a last smile they turned into opposite directions, Anthea back to the office and Mycroft to Greg's room.

To his surprise it was only Sherlock in the room, he was sitting on a chair in the opposite corner. Mycroft gave him a once over and took out the chocolate bar, wordlessly he gave the chocolate to Sherlock who took it without saying anything. Mycroft didn't expect him to.

They sat there for the rest of the day, later John arrived with take away; he just finished his swift at the clinic. To Mycroft’s surprise John removed three containers from the bag. Either he knew Mycroft would still be there or Anthea informed him. 

He didn't care as he took the container from John.

"Thank you."

"No worries. Any change?"

"No." Mycroft replied. Sherlock turned to John.

"The first 24 hours will be over in three hours and 25 minutes, the nurses are getting restless by the lack of response from Lestrade."

John had so many questions but didn't asked any of them, one part hesitant to upset the balance of the atmosphere at the moment and one part not in the mood to cause strife between the brothers. 

It was just before the 24 hours were over when the machines indicated the change in Greg’s vitals. Next were his fingers that flexed between Mycroft's. 

"Gregory?" Mycroft asked as he leaned over to Greg, Sherlock and John following suit making a triangle around Greg. Mycroft held his breath as he watched Greg’s eyes move underneath the eyelids, before it hesitantly started to open. Mycroft's eyes immediately filled with tears as the big brown eyes focused on him. He blinked slowly as if to make sure his eyes are not deceiving him, before he turned confused. Mycroft saw it and placed his hand on Greg's cheek, the stubble scratching against his palm.

"Gregory; I need you to relax, I know you're confused, but I will explain everything, just trust me on this okay?"

Greg blinked again and watched as they moved away for the nurse and doctor to examine him. They were asked to wait outside.

When they re-entered the room, they had removed the tube and had lifted the bed a little so he wasn't flat on his back. He was still to pale and tired with big and dark shadows under his eyes, the bruising making it look ten times worse. Mycroft was the first next to his bed with the others waiting at the foot of the bed.

Greg smiled as Mycroft sat down close to the bed, his hand automatically holding Greg's. 

"What happened?" Greg's voice was hoarse but steady. Mycroft looked to the half full glass of water with the straw.

"Would you like some more water?"

Greg shook his head.

"Later."

"What is the last thing you remember?" Mycroft asked softly, his fingers caressing Greg's.  

"You asked me over and I agreed. I remembered getting into the car and driving to your place, there was a traffic light, it turned green and then this massive bang then nothing." Greg looked around before his eyes rested on his body.

"I take it from the state I'm in I was in a car accident?"

Mycroft nodded but John spoke up.

"A truck ran over a light, smashed into you, it hit the passenger side and pushed you all the way into the wall opposite." Mycroft turned his head, Anthea must have shown them the video, that’s why they were so quick to be here, and feeling so guilty.

"Is the truck driver okay?" Both Sherlock and Mycroft closed their eyes, here Greg is in hospital severely injured and he worries about the other guy. Mycroft sighed before he answered.

"I don't know."

Greg seemed to accept it and focused on John, Mycroft tried to ignore the stab of jealousy, knowing it was for John's skills.

"What's the damage?"

"Broken leg, fractured pelvis, which is why the cast is all the way to your hip, four broken ribs, one nearly punctured your lung, some internal injuries, fractured both wrists and a hell of bruises. You're going to need intensive physiotherapy, it’s going to be painful, I’m sorry Greg, with the hip, and you might even have a small limp."

Mycroft tried to hide his emotions and could see Greg was having even more difficulty, physio is fine, but a permanent limp will certainly influence his performance at work, they might even force him into a desk job. Mycroft intertwined their fingers again and leaned over to Greg.

"You will get through this, I can help you with the physio if you'd like?" Greg gave him a fleeting smile and opened his mouth to speak, when he crunched his nose. Mycroft eyes widen.

"I'm sorry, I probably smell, I've been here the whole day and this is a temperature controlled en...."

"Why aren't you wearing cologne?" Greg interrupted. As one the three men's attentions were on Greg, everyone knows Mycroft always smell good. Mycroft blinked before he turned to his brother who stared back. Both eyes wide and intense. Sherlock moved closer to Greg and Mycroft slowly turned to Greg Mycroft didn’t even realise that although he was currently mad at his brother, he trusted him to pick up on the fact that Greg couldn’t smell him.

"Gregory, why did you ask me that?"

"Because you always smell amazing and now you do not smell of anything." Greg replied looking at him with confusion. Sherlock leaned over to Mycroft and smelled his brother before looking at his brother with dismay; Mycroft turned his attention back to Greg, trying to hide his worry.

"Gregory, do you smell Sherlock?" Greg looked at Sherlock who moved into Greg's space for a moment before he moved away. 

"Uuhm no, but he hardly wears cologne, it’s always chemicals and smoke......" the realisation hit as if a storm. Greg took a deep breath his hand reaching to Mycroft, his eyes boring into his.

"My, I can’t smell it...."

"Gregory, I need you to calm down."

"But I can't smell you!"

Mycroft placed both hands against Greg's face to get him to concentrate on him.

"Gregory, listen to me, I'm sure there's a very good reason, we will inform the doctor but right now you need to be calm down. Please." That seemed to help as Greg made an effort to calm down. John came back in the room, and no one even noticed that he had left. 

"Greg, I've spoken to the nurse and she is informing your doctor as we speak, he will probably arrange for a CT scan and more tests to accurately determine what is causing this." Greg turned to John, the worry still in his face. Softly he asked.

"What is the most obvious cause?" Greg asked. 

"It could be a number of things...”

"John. Please?" Greg begged.

"You were in a car accident that resulted in a coma; it could be a side effect of the hit your brain took."

"Brian damage?" Greg clarified. The atmosphere thick.

"Yes." John replied. His eyes lingering on Greg. “I’m sorry.” He added.

Greg didn't speak for several minutes, nor did he look at any of them. He didn’t want to; he didn’t want to see the pity in their faces, more importantly he didn’t want to show them the shame in his.

Chapter Text

Second chances

Chapter 6

Greg has been quiet ever since the discovery that he couldn't smell anything.  Logic told him that it was a small price to pay for not being dead, but his heart is having a bad time coming to grips with it.

It's been a week since he was in hospital and although he is having some difficulty with numbers and certain words, the loss of one of his senses was the biggest concern.  Although he tried to stay strong and independent the truth was, that it was getting to him, Sally and the Yard send flowers over, but he couldn’t smell it, not anymore. 

Molly snuck him some Chinese food after he complained, but he couldn’t smell the food, nor the smell of tea, didn't think he would miss that or coffee.  The biggest gap though? Mycroft.  That wonderful smell of Mycroft, sandalwood with woody senses and a fresh musk that he could never decipher.  It was so Mycroft. 

Mycroft, who these past few days have gone above and beyond to be there for him, to support him.

They still haven't really had a chance to sit down and discuss what is going to happen next, or the reason Mycroft called him over, but he knew they had too.

Sherlock and John also came to visit every day and made a real effort to help him.

Especially when it came to the meals, it was quite difficult to eat with two wrists in casts.

He did notice that there was something bothering him about Sherlock and Mycroft's relationship at the moment; if he didn't know any better he'd say they had a fight.  More than the average bickering and neither seemed inclined to talk about it. 

He'll need help and for that he will need to either address them directly while in the same room or get John involved, which he didn't really wanted to do.

The answer is to approach them directly. 

He just had to wait for Sherlock; he usually comes by in the afternoon when the lab has closed. Up the elevator and down to his room.  A small part of him didn't miss how it was that both brothers spend most of their current time in the same building, with Mycroft being by his side.

The bathroom door swung open and Greg smiled as Mycroft came out, he had a quick shower.  His hair was still wet, and his shirt still untucked.

"Hey."

Mycroft returned the smile and placed his bag at the edge of the bed, before sitting on the edge.   Greg immediately ran his fingers through Mycroft's hair. 

"I've always loved this little curl."

"And now?" Mycroft asked as he leaned over and cupped Greg's cheek. Greg looking him in the eye.

"Still do. Always."

"Gregory..." Mycroft started, all serious, unsure of how to start the conversation.  He has been holding back since the accident but he needed to open up, he nearly lost Greg. 

"Why did you ask me over?" Greg softly asked, knowing that Mycroft's is a bit unsure of where to begin. 

No one noticed that Sherlock had come over and stopped when he heard them talking.  He knew he had to talk to Mycroft, to try and fix this, he just didn't know how.

"I made dinner, set the table, everything, even candles." Mycroft said.  Sherlock's mouth twitched.

"Did you think I got cold feet when I didn't show?"

"Yes. I doubted Gregory and I'm so sorry."

"It's okay, it's a human mistake."

"I should've known you have never, not once given me cause to doubt.   I was scared,  I was going to come clean,  say I'm sorry for hurting you,  ask you,  beg you if I had to, to give us a second chance,  Sherlock and everything else be damned.   I lived without you for so long, that I thought I didn't deserve someone like you and then we were together and it was as if I truly woken up for the first time, and then I got scared, thinking I was going to ruin it, and Sherlock said he'll never condone anything between us, and it was silly and I listened and I lost you, and then that women tried to sleep with you, and I was jealous, so jealous." Mycroft rambled on his eyes burning into Greg's who just tried his best to hold on to him.

"Hey," he tried but Mycroft didn't listen as he went on.

"I saw how she looked at you and I wanted that, I wanted to be the one you look at, to hold to..." Greg didn’t let him continue as he closed the space between them and kissed Mycroft.  Mycroft gasped is surprise allowing Greg to take advantage by invading his mouth.  Mycroft hands snaked out of their own accord around Greg pulling him closer.  Greg's own casted wrist was around Mycroft body, using his upper arm strength to keep him close. 

They parted with shallow breaths and wide smiles.

"I might not be able to smell you, but by god I can still taste you, if that's enough for you, I’ll gladly spend my life learning you over."

Mycroft couldn’t speak instead he pulled Greg close and buried his head in the crook of his neck clenching his fists in Greg’s shirt, silent tears falling down Greg's back.

Sherlock swallowed where he stood, his eyes red rimmed as he watches them.  He may not have heard every word, but even he couldn't deny the deductions as he watched their bodies saying a hell lot more than words ever could. It spoke of healing, and not just the physical, of new beginnings, and not in his recovery.  Trust that runs deeper than his accident, love that shone brighter than the fluorescent lights above them.  His ignorance, his pride and arrogance nearly cost his brother’s happiness,  the first real friend and mentor he had dreams and hopes,  it nearly cost the two men their future,  and Sherlock really hope he'll get a chance to show his remorse,  his happiness in their togetherness and his pride in their relationship. 

The ball is as they would say in his hands and the first step is to make right by his brother. To say sorry. 

He looked at the two men still oblivious to the world around them and smiled.

Yes, he can say sorry, he can admit he was wrong and ask for a chance to get it right.