Chapter Text
It had been a peaceful ten months of living together.
A peaceful and happy ten months.
Mycroft was still a bit of a mess after everything that happened with Eurus, Greg was willing to say that much. But with Greg keeping the British Government himself company and reassuring Mycroft that he won’t wake up in a cell with a rotting, bloodied corpse of the governor there to haunt him.
It had been a year since he had begun his watch over Mycroft to ensure he would be safe even from his own mind.
Ten since he had confessed.
Six since their relationship begun.
And four since they moved in together.
They had their highs and lows and their occasional fights could reach stupendous heights. Their apologies could get long and full of tear-stained pleas for neither to leave and followed by sincere attempts at bettering themselves.
The fact that Greg had Mycroft sleeping in his arms was still a miracle.
Gazing at his lover, Greg smiled and pressed his lips against Mycroft's forehead.
He’s waited too long to be this happy.
Moving to adjust himself, he felt Mycroft sidle up further against him. Greg chuckled and made to gently nudge Mycroft to a decent distance (read: not much) so he could move when he heard it.
Outside their room, he could hear one of the spare bedroom's door being opened and clicked shut.
Ice chilled his veins and throwing a worried glance at his lover, Greg moved to leave the bed.
"Gregory...?" Voice slurred by sleep and still bleary-eyed, Mycroft met Greg's eyes with confusion and concern.
Not wanting to worry Mycroft, the Detective Chief Inspector of Scotland Yard smiled the most reassuring smile he can give to a man whose occupation was to listen to a fair number of liars and cheats the whole day.
"S’alright, love." He tried to keep his tone even and calm though he could see the concern growing in Mycroft's eyes. Leaning over, he caught Mycroft's lips with his, keeping the contact for a few moments before he pulled away. "Just need to get some water then I’ll be back."
Though doubt still marred Mycroft's face, Greg still left and carefully closed the door, wishing that Mycroft wouldn’t investigate in case someone came to kill him. (Finding out that Eurus could brainwash people like a child playing with dolls made him wary of many people that associated with him, Mycroft, Sherlock and John.) Praying he had chosen the correct spare bedroom so as to immediately see what had caused it to open and close, Greg pulled open the first door on the left across his and Mycroft’s room.
He froze when he saw a figure bathed in darkness, hunched over, head resting in his hands.
Greg reacted immediately and he took a step forward, trying to catch the stranger's attention.
The figure did not look up.
"Oi, mate. You know you’re breaking and entering, yeah?" His heart was beating too fast, but his voice was steady, firm, it was warning the stranger of what he had come into. "I could arrest you right here and now-"
"Please delay my arrest, Officer. I’m quite unwell." The stranger's accent was posh in spite of the pain that tainted it.
Greg noted that, it has a familiar note to it but Greg chose not to dwell on it.
"Sorry, mate. Can’t go round letting you break into houses." Greg moved closer, placing a hand on the stranger's shoulder. "I'll take you to a hospital if you need to."
Moving to pull the stranger to his feet, the stranger rose and took hold of him. It wasn’t aggressive or even a threatening hold, but it felt more like the figure needed to hold him to keep balance.
Though he was a trespasser that’s for all Greg knew could also be an assassin or something, concern still welled up in him.
"Could you walk?" His tone was not too gentle to welcome a friendly interaction, but it gentled enough for him to hopefully coax a civil answer from the fellow.
The trespasser said nothing to his inquiry. Instead, the stranger asked a question that returned the DCI's suspicion towards him.
"Where is the master of this house?"
Bathed in moonlight, they stood there for a moment. The stranger keeping a hold of him, his posture slouched slightly, Greg standing still in case he was truly needed for support.
Then their eyes met and though Greg knew this could be coincidence, he still felt his blood run cold.
The stranger had eyes so similar to Mycroft's, an aquiline nose accompanied those pale eyes, his hair was almost completely silver with a few flecks of auburn left. But even then, those eyes looked more youthful than the age his hair indicated.
Time was frozen for him. Greg was unable to move.
He heard the door to the spare bedroom open with a creak and Greg knew that was his lover.
"Gregory, I thought you were off to fetch wa-" A sharp intake of breath followed.
The light was turned on.
The stranger was not looking at Greg when the lights came on and was instead gazing at Mycroft with affection, a small smile graced his lips. Greg did not pay further attention to that for he was drawn to the red blossoming through his coat.
"Hello, baby brother." The stranger spoke, his voice calm yet pained, eyes both playful and sad, his posture had attempted to right itself when he looked at Mycroft but it caused him further pain.
Greg caught the trespasser in his arms as Mycroft rushed towards him with a cry of a name that Greg used to think was simply the name of a facility Mycroft used to oversee.
"Sherrinford!"