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If Greg was honest, he had thought Mycroft had been exaggerating when he said a relationship would put him in danger. After all Mycroft Holmes had eyes and ears everywhere and he was a copper. So yeah, he had thought himself pretty safe.
As it turned out, he wasn’t and Mycroft had had every right to worry. Not that he would ever get to hear the “I told you so”. Soon he wouldn’t hear anything anymore. It was embarrassing, really, how easily they had overpowered him.
One of his kidnappers was talking into a mobile phone to, from the sound of it, Mycroft. Even not able to understand a word, the thought and faint hum of his voice was soothing.
They had beaten him, of course, in hope to gain some information about Mycroft, but Greg had stood firm. Not letting anything slip, hoping the whole time he would be rescued. By Mycroft. By Sherlock. By Donovan. No one came though and now things were coming to an end. Not the one he had hoped for, however.
The mobile appeared in his vision.
“Say your goodbyes.” The accent was thick but Greg had given up trying to place it. The man sounded eager, like he hoped to get at least something out of Greg. Out of Mycroft.
Closing his eyes for a second, Greg tried to find a way to let Mycroft know without giving anything away. Not after he fought so hard to keep all the secrets.
He smiled when he realised. It was easy. He had gone there after a fight. Their first really bad fight and Mycroft had come to find him. They both had apologized, had admitted their love for the first time that night.
“Dublin,” he said, voice hoarse. Mycroft would understand. I’m sorry. I love you.
The phone snapped shut in front of his face and Greg could feel the cool metal of the gun as the barrel pressed against his skull.