A/N Hey My Lovelies!!!! I had a thought and it spawned this....sorry in advance lol....Enjoy<3

"You're leaving again, aren't you?" Greg's sleep-rough voice startled Mycroft, making him drop his mobile.

"I was trying to not wake you." Greg sighed, pushing himself up so he was sitting and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "I'm sorry Greg, but something has come up and-"

"Stop." Mycroft's chest tightened at the edge he heard in Greg's voice. He turned back to the bed to try to explain himself, but Greg just waved him off. "I'm not interested in your excuses anymore Mycroft. Just tell me what is going on."

"I can't Greg, I told you, it's-"

"Yeah, yeah. 'It's sensitive'."

"It is Greg." Mycroft pulled on his shirt, hoping he could avoid this fight again. He stepped closer to his lover and leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to reluctant lips. "Please don't do this again. I know it's hard Love, but it will all be over soon-"

"Stop making promises you can't keep." Mycroft recoiled as though he had been slapped. "I know you've been struggling since- since Sherlock-" Mycroft sighed, pushing his hands through his hair and straightening, finishing buttoning his shirt. It had been a little over two years since Sherlock had thrown himself off the roof of Bart's, and Mycroft was getting sick of Greg assuming he was using it as a crutch.

"This has nothing to do with Sherlock."

"Then what?" Greg snapped, swinging his legs off the bed and dropping his head in his hands. "What could possibly be so bad that you can't tell me?" Mycroft stepped between his lover's legs and took his face in his hands, leaning down and kissing him tenderly.

"I swear Greg, I will be able to tell you soon. I just need a few more weeks to wrap everything up before I can explain." Greg nodded and leaned up, kissing Mycroft again.

"I just hate seeing you so upset."

"I know My Love. I'm sorry." They kissed again, soft and tender. Mycroft broke the kiss and finished getting ready, Greg watching every move. "Dinner tonight?" Mycroft asked as he turned to leave.

"You going to bail on me again?" It had been meant as a joke, but the statement sent a flare of pain through Mycroft's heart. "I'm just kidding. Yeah, dinner sounds great."

"Prefect, I will text you when I am available." Mycroft hurried out of the room, hesitating just before he closed the door. "I love you Greg."

"I love you too Mycroft." He left, silently vowing to never hurt Greg again.

His vow was broken a few hours later when he got the call he had been dreading.

"Mycroft Holmes."

"Hello Brother Mine, long time." Mycroft's chest seized at the rough voice that came from the other end of the line.

"Sherlock?"

"Good guess."

"Where are you?"

"About to be captured by Russian thugs. Any way I could beg a favor from you?"

"It's not a favor Brother Mine. Send me your location, I will retrieve you myself."

"Anthea has the data."

"Stay alive Brother Mine." Mycroft hung up the phone and started preparing to save his brother. "Anthea?" His assistant stepped into his office, looking as bored as ever. "Send me Sherlock's location and cancel my appointments for the next few weeks."

"Would you like me to call Detective Inspector Lestrade for you Sir?" Dread filled Mycroft's chest as he remembered Greg.

"No, I will talk to him. Thank you, Anthea." As she turned and left, Mycroft pulled out his mobile and debated between texting and calling.

"Call him." Anthea's voice came from the door, startling Mycroft. "You don't want to do this over text. If something goes wrong, you don't want to miss the chance to have heard his voice one last time." Emotions prick the backs of his eyes and made it hard for him to breathe.

"Thank you, Anthea." She nodded and left, closing the door as she did. Mycroft took a deep breath and dialed Greg's number.

"Lestrade."

"Hey Love."

"Hey! How's it going? Listen, I was thinking about dinner tonight, how would you feel about ordering in? we could get some Chinese, maybe watch some Doctor Who, go to bed early?" Mycroft could hear the suggestive tone in his lover's voice and squeezed his eyes shut, fighting to keep his breathing even.

"Greg-"

"You're bailing on me, again, aren't you?" The harsh edge of a hurt man came through the phone and Mycroft rubbed his hand over his face.

"Greg, I'm sorry-"

"No, you know what? I'm done. I'm sick of this Myc. I'm tired of waiting for you, of being second to your work."

"Greg, please don't do this-"

"I'll send your things to your office. Call me when you are ready to give this a try.

"Greg please-"

"Bye Mr. Holmes." The line went dead and Mycroft felt his spirit die a little with it. He tossed his phone on the desk and dropped his face into his hands, fighting back the heaving sob that threatened to split his chest. He grabbed his phone and sent a few texts, not hoping to repair anything, but perhaps just comfort the man he loved so much.

I'm so sorry – MH

I love you – MH

Never forget that – MH

Don't text me again – GL

"Anthea, let's go, I have to save my brother."

"And the Detective Inspector?"

"Keep an eye on him for me."

"Of course, Sir."

"Thank you, Anthea."

It had been three weeks since Greg told Mycroft to not text him again. Three weeks since he had heard anything from the politician. He had picked up smoking again, hiding himself away in the underground parking garage of New Scotland Yard. He hated hiding, but he hated the judgmental stares from his colleagues even more.

Everyone at the Yard knew about his split from Mycroft, mainly because his secretary told them, and they knew he only smoked to cover the stress of it.

He hunkered down in the back corner and took one of the cigarettes in his mouth, leaning down to light it.

"Those things will kill you, you know." A dark, rich voice came from the shadows, sending a spark of fear-fuelled relief crashing through his veins.

"Oh, you Bastard!" He'd know that voice anywhere. He spun and found his suspicions confirmed.

Sherlock Holmes stepped out of the shadows, a dangerous smirk on his face.

Greg leapt forward and pulled the younger man in for a tight hug, laughing in confusion and relief.

"God, Mycroft is going to be so-" He hesitated blinking away tears at the mention of his ex's name. "M-Mycroft-"

"Is the one that brought me home." Sherlock pried away from Greg's arms, smirking down at him, his eyes lit with pain and understanding.

"When?" Greg's voice was rough, and he wasn't certain he wanted to know the answer.

"I contacted him about three weeks ago."

"Fuck."

"Yeah." So, Sherlock knew, Greg sighed and rubbed his hands over his face, leaning back against the wall. "What happened Greg? You two were so happy-"

"Yeah, we were. Then I went and got all needy and fucked it up." Greg dropped his head back against the wall, sighing as the weight of their breakup settled over his heart again. "How- how is he?" Sherlock sighed, leaning against the wall next to Greg.

"Miserable. He spent the first three days after he rescued me yelling about the fragility of the human heart and how reckless I am when dealing with it. I almost think he was not talking about me, not entirely anyhow." Greg laughed, a cold, empty sound that bespoke his broken heart. "He told me not to give you this." Greg glanced back at Sherlock and noticed the paper he held in his gloved hand. "But, he yelled at me for three days and allowed an angry Russian to torture me while he watched, so fuck what he wants." A thousand questions spiraled through Greg's mind as he took the note, flipping it nervously in his hands.

His heart broke when he read the note, tears slipping from his eyes and his breath catching in his throat. He glanced back up at Sherlock, but the man was gone. His phone vibrated in his pocket.

Talk to him Gavin – SH

It is truly unbearable working with him when he misses you – SH

Welcome back Mate – GL

He sighed heavily and typed in the number he had tried so damned hard to forget.

We need to talk – GL

I agree – MH

The coffee shop by NSY? – MH

I can be there in five – GL

I will see you then – MH

Mycroft waited anxiously at the coffee shop, his knee twitching rapidly. He hadn't spoken to Greg in three weeks, not since he had been told not to. Now, Greg was on his way to talk to him and he had no idea what to say.

How could he tell him how sorry he was? How much he regretted not trying harder? Not fighting for them?

"You came." The familiar voice of Greg Lestrade filled Mycroft's mind and he froze, looking up from his tea.

"Of course."

"I half expected you to bail on me again." He closed his eyes as his heart broke impossibly more.

"Greg-"

"No, sorry. That was unfair of me to say."

"No, I deserved it."

"Yeah, you kind of did." They stayed in an awkward silence for too long, Greg shuffling his feet and Mycroft twitching his knee. "Is it alright if I sit?" Mycroft nodded, only slightly startled when the other man spoke. Greg sat across from him, his arms crossed in a defensive pose.

Mycroft fought against the urge to read the other man, knowing it wouldn't be appreciated.

"Well, done reading me, or whatever it is you do?"

"I'm not reading you Greg. I told you I wouldn't do that."

"So you do keep some promises then." Mycroft sighed, looking back down at his now-cold tea. There were so many things he wanted to say, but Greg was clearly still mad and he wasn't listening to excuses. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"It was too dangerous." Greg scoffed, running a hand through his hair. Mycroft blinked away memories of his own fingers threading through that hair and tried to focus.

"How long have you known he was alive?"

"I knew he survived the fall, and I pointed him in the direction he needed to go, but I didn't hear from him for nearly a year." Greg nodded, glaring at Mycroft's teacup and fidgeting with his lapel. "As far as I knew, until he contacted me three weeks ago, he was dead"

"You should have told me."

"I couldn't. Moriarty's web was vast and I didn't want to put you at risk. He had agents everywhere, even in New Scotland Yard."

"I could have helped you. I could have-"

"You would have been killed."

"It's my job Mycroft!" Greg snapped, leaning closer and lowering his voice again. "I'm not a child Mycroft. I can protect myself."

"People who get close to us tend to not live very long Greg. I will not be responsible for putting you in danger." Greg laughed, a sound that Mycroft had come to miss so very much.

"You bloody idiot!" Mycroft flinched as Greg grabbed his chair and hauled him closer. "I'm a fucking detective at NSY, danger is kind of in the job description." Mycroft swallowed thickly at the thought of Greg getting hurt. "You can't protect me, Mycroft."

"I know that, but I had to try-"

"You blew me off. Repeatedly. That hurt worse than anything that could have happened to me in the field. I thought-" Greg's voice caught in his throat and Mycroft saw the pain in his eyes. "I thought you didn't love me."

"No, Greg. God no."

"Think about it from my end Myc, you would blow off our dates, leave in the middle of the night, and all I ever got from you were weak excuses." Greg reached for Mycroft's hand and played with his fingers, a nervous habit the DI had developed over the course of their relationship.

"I-I'm so sorry Greg."

"I was convinced there was someone else. That you had gotten bored with me and found someone younger and smarter-" Mycroft shook his head, tears pricked at the backs of his eyes.

"No. No. God Greg, that's not-"

"Then you bailed after you promised to have dinner with me and I just snapped." Mycroft leaned forward, closing the distance between them but not touching. "I-I thought- I was sure you were going to leave me. I remembered when my wife left me and I couldn't go through that again." Tears were sliding down Greg's face and Mycroft wanted nothing more than to kiss them away. He timidly reached out and cupped the back of Greg's neck, sighing in relief when the touch wasn't shied away from.

"Greg, I'm so sorry. No excuses this time. I was an ass, and you deserve so much more. There has never been anyone else, nor will there ever be anyone else. I should have told you of my concerns, I realize that now, and I promise I will never hide anything from you again." Greg's breath caught and Mycroft realized his mistake. "That is, of course, if you are willing to try this again." Greg nodded, frowning at the floor between them and breathing deeply for a few moments before returning his gaze to Mycroft.

"Myc, I-I don't know-" Mycroft sighed and nodded, leaning back to give the detective the space he needed.

"I understand. I hurt you, you need time-"

"I need food." Mycroft blinked, unsure about how to respond. Greg suddenly seemed very relaxed as he stood, holding out his hand and smirking. "Come on Brainiac, you owe dinner and a Lay-In. We're three episodes behind on Doctor Who." Mycroft took his hand and allowed a soft smile to pull at his lips. He rose to his feet and straightened his suit jacket, his heart feeling marginally lighter when he saw the mischievous glint in the DI's eyes.

"You didn't watch the latest episodes?"

"Didn't feel right when it's not followed by your snide comments."

"You just like shutting me up." Greg laughed, blushing lightly and stepping slightly closer to Mycroft.

"Well, that part was pretty fun." Mycroft fought every fibre of his being that was screaming at him to kiss the grinning man before him. He didn't want to push anything. "I-I've got to go back to the Yard for a bit, close up some things. Meet you back at mine?" There was fear and hope in the DI's eyes, and it made Mycroft's chest ache.

"If you would prefer, I can accompany you to the Yard. I have nothing planned for the rest of the evening, and it will give us a chance to catch up." Greg grinned up at him and nodded, stepping close and reaching up, wrapping his hand around the back of Mycroft's neck. He pulled the taller man down, pressing their lips together in a soft kiss.

It knocked the breath from Mycroft's lungs. He had been aching to touch Greg again and now that he was, everything seemed to fall back into place.

"God, I've missed you." Greg mumbled against his lips, pressing another soft kiss to Mycroft's lips.

"I've missed you too My Love." The words fell from his lips with ease, and they seemed to send a shiver along Greg's spine as he sighed and pressed closer, grabbing Mycroft's hip and pulling him close. "Are you certain you are needed at the Yard right now? I can have a car take us to your place right now." Greg groaned, dropping his head against Mycroft's shoulder.

"Damn it. I have to go back, I have paperwork I should have finished three days ago." Mycroft sighed, biting his tongue against the insulting words that tried to fall. Greg was terrible at paperwork. "And I don't want to appear too easy." He winked at Mycroft, leaning up and kissing him again, a chaste little brush of lips that left Mycroft wanting more.

"But Darling," Mycroft leaned down to whisper in Greg's ear, letting his lips gently brush the other man's ear in the way he knew drove him crazy. "I have heard that Make-up Sex is brilliant." Greg whined and took Mycroft's hand, dragging him from the coffee shop.

"Sorry Babe, you're going to have to wait a little longer."

"Supply closet by your office?"

"If you behave."

"God I love you." Greg turned and winked cheekily at him.

"I know." 

Later that night, after Doctor Who and Make-up sex that left both men exhausted, they were snuggling in Greg's bed, when the Greg remembered the note that Sherlock had given him earlier that day.

"Sherlock gave me the note by the way."

"I knew he would. I shouldn't have trusted him with it." Greg propped himself up on one of his elbows, looking down at Mycroft, his eyes dark and serious. 

"Did you mean it? What you said in the note?" Mycroft's chest swelled as he remembered the words he wrote. 

"Every word." Greg grinned and pressed against him, kissing him deeply. 

"Ask me then." 

"Marry me?"

"Hell yes." Mycroft grinned and kissed his now-fiance passionately, pulling a pleased moan from his lover. 

"Still have to go to the Yard?"

"I think the paperwork can wait one more day."

"Thank God!"