Cally's Sherlock drabbles #2 [81/221] (28 September 2017)

[MyOwnPrivateSFC]

Oh, boys! *cuddles all of them*

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

The traffic light had turned red, and Greg shoved a hand into his pocket, fumbling about for a moment. He removed his handkerchief and handed it over to John.

John accepted it, looking at the square of cloth incredulously. It was luxurious grey silk.

“What can I say, Mycroft likes nice things,” Greg said, shrugging his shoulders.

Yes he does. So what does that make you, Greg?

“There were intestines in the kitchen sink.”

Greg burst out laughing. That was not what he had been expecting.

John gave a faint, heartless chuckle. “I put up with a lot and most of the time I let it go. But just once I’d like to make a cup of tea without body parts getting in the bloody way.”

I'm with John. There is only so much a person can put up with.

Sniffling, he noticed that Sherlock must have used an alarming amount of bleach when he had cleaned;

I'm going to say that there is no such thing as an "alarming amount of bleach" when it comes to cleaning up after intestines.

“John, I,” Sherlock began but John cut him off.

“Just don’t do it again, alright?” John asked, handing Sherlock his tea.

Surprised, Sherlock merely nodded, accepting the tea as the peace offering it was.

Aww! All is forgiven.

[AngelEyes]

Yay for John love!!!

John accepted it, looking at the square of cloth incredulously. It was luxurious grey silk.

“What can I say, Mycroft likes nice things,” Greg said, shrugging his shoulders.

I love how casual he is about it. Eh, it's Mycroft's deal, I go with it.

19:20: It is raining and unlike my brother, John does not have an umbrella permanently attached to him. –SH

LOL

He got the mugs and tea out; realizing after the fact that he had automatically started to make Sherlock a cup as well. He chuckled to himself, shaking his head at his actions.

John is such a creature of habit.

“John, I,” Sherlock began but John cut him off.

“Just don’t do it again, alright?” John asked, handing Sherlock his tea.

Surprised, Sherlock merely nodded, accepting the tea as the peace offering it was.

This is perfect. This is exactly them. I love it!

[cally]

Poor John. At least Greg tried to make him feel better.

He did. Alcohol helps all manner of sins.

Oh, boys! *cuddles all of them*

*snuggles them all up*

I'm going to say that there is no such thing as an "alarming amount of bleach" when it comes to cleaning up after intestines.

Probably not, but I can imagine the residual scent being so overpowering. Ugh.

Yes he does. So what does that make you, Greg?

I love how casual he is about it. Eh, it's Mycroft's deal, I go with it.

There really isn't anything Greg can do at that point. He's aware of how extravagant it is, especially to someone like John (who is used to having most of his belongings tested, burned, covered in acid), so he just sort of has to well, shrug.

This next one is a continuation of #32. I was going to post it right after, but it got a bit away from me. There's a going to be a third part, which is the part I still have yet to write, but it's been written in my head. If that makes any sense.

36. interlude

Mycroft, for once, recovered quickly from his head cold. And while the remnants of said head cold left him with a perpetually drippy nose, the pain and inflammation in his sinuses and lymph nodes had receded. As he improved, he watched as Gregory slowly succumbed to the illness.

As usual, Gregory became ill; slowly and in stages. Each night he seemed to become progressively more congested and his sleep began to suffer as he woke frequently due to the congestion. Mycroft fretted, and on more than one occasion offered his partner a decongestant to help ease his stuffy nose and improve his slumber. Each time it was refused; Gregory was most stubborn and implored that he was fine.

As usual, Mycroft woke first Sunday morning. Before he could even sit up fully, he had to quickly duck his head down into his shoulder, stifling a flurry of sneezes.

Mmmpfx! Mmmmmpfch! Heh’Mmmpfx! Heh’tish! Hng’ISSH! Huh’mffTSChhh!

Cringing at the dampness, he reached for the tissues on the bedside table. As he did, he felt Gregory stir next to him.

“G’bless,” Greg murmured, before taking a heavy, heaving breath and sneezing harshly himself.

Huh’huhrahhhSHHooo! HDSCHHhhhhooo!

Mycroft sat up, tissues pressed to his long nose, and turned to Gregory, who had his hand pressed under his nose. “Oh dear me. God bless you, Gregory!” He reached over for the tissue box and put it between them.

Sitting up, Greg grabbed a handful with his free hand, blew his nose and then sank his head into his hands. “Oh God,” he moaned, with a thick sniffle.

Mycroft frowned, studying his lover. He reached out and put a hand on Gregory’s arm and squeezed. “Oh, my dear,” he said softly, his voice slightly muffled from the tissues still pressed to his nose.

“Christ, I feel awful,” Gregory mumbled, coughing.

“I am terribly sorry,” Mycroft replied. He put his hand on Gregory’s forehead to check for fever. He was warm, but not overly so; it was clearly from slumber. Mycroft watched as Gregory’s face slackened, eyes fluttering shut. He quickly pressed a fresh handful of tissues into Gregory’s hand.

Hehhhh . . . Huh…heh’DZSCHOOOOO! Huh’hrahhhSHHhooo!

“God bless you again,” Mycroft said.

Greg nodded his thanks, his nose buried in the tissues Mycroft had pressed upon him. It took him a moment to compose himself and required several more handfuls of tissues. When he was finally done, he grabbed the pile of used tissues and dragged himself off to the bathroom.

When he returned, Mycroft could see how pale and haggard his partner looked. There was tightness around his eyes and there were pink spots of colour high on his cheeks. Mycroft felt a wave of worry and concern crash over him, and he had to sternly remind himself that Gregory hated to be fussed over when he was ill.

Greg climbed back into bed, and pulled the duvet up around him. He felt too miserable to care about anything else but going back to sleep. He felt Mycroft’s cool fingers run across his forehead and then down onto his scalp and he made a noise of pleasure, albeit stuffy.

Mycroft continued to soothe Greg until it looked like the older man had fallen asleep. Instead, suddenly, Greg shuddered and sneezed another pair of vicious, wet sneezes.

Hehhhh……Huh……..HuhASHHHHooooo! Heh’HRDSCHHhhhh!

“Goodness! God bless you!” Mycroft grabbed another handful of tissues and handed them over.

Greg quickly grabbed them. “Th-ahhhh-nks,” he managed to croak out before sneezing harshly again.

Hehhhh . . . Huh…heh’DZSCHOOOOO!

“And again,” Mycroft said, trying to keep the worry from his voice.

“M’sorry,” Greg mumbled, blowing his nose.

Mycroft gave him a questioning look. “Whatever for?” He asked, handing over some more tissues. He noticed the box was nearly empty. Leaving the rest with Gregory, he rose from their bed and pulled on his dressing gown. He went over to his bureau and extracted a handful of handkerchiefs, which he placed on Gregory’s nightstand, keeping one for his own troublesome nose. He then went into their en suite, returning a few minutes later with a packet of cold medicine and a glass of water.

“I know I promised not to fuss, but I think you need to take something.”

Greg nodded. He didn’t care right now if Mycroft fussed over him all day; he felt absolutely horrendous. His head and sinuses ached and felt like they were filled with cement and his throat felt like he was swallowing crushed glass. He gave a weak cough and a liquid sniffle.

“Thags,” he whispered.

Mycroft frowned, biting his lower lip. He reached out and pushed the silver strands off Gregory’s forehead, trying to comfort him. “I will be right back with some tea. Do you think you can eat something?”

Greg half shrugged. Tea sounded heavenly, but he wasn’t sure how food would feel on his throat. Mycroft seemed to instinctively understand. “I will see if I can find something cold for your throat,” he said. After Greg swallowed down the pills with a grimace, Mycroft helped him get back under the duvet, and with a gentle squeeze, pressed one of the handkerchiefs into his hand before he left.

Greg snuffled into the soft cloth. He rolled over onto his back and tried to take an inventory of how poorly he felt. He knew Mycroft would want to know, and it would probably help to know if he was improving, based on how he was feeling right now. His head and sinuses were throbbing and aching along with his throat, but remarkably his chest felt clear. He was only coughing due the thick remnants of congestion that seemed to be making its way down his throat.

He wasn’t sure if he was lost in thought or had started to doze off when his sinuses started prickling again. He was unused to sneezing so much; he fleetingly wondered if this was what it was like for Mycroft, before gasping out another set of sneezes, inherently grateful that Mycroft had given him a handkerchief before he left.

Heh’rahhhNGHTshhooo! HRDSCHHhhhh!

“God bless you!” Mycroft’s voice was soothing, but even in his illness ravaged state, Greg could hear the undercurrent of worry. He quickly buried his nose back into the handkerchief as his breath wavered again, nostrils flaring as he built up to a very messy sounding sneeze.

Hehhhh . . . .hehhhh. . Huh…ASHHHHhhooo!

“God bless you again, my dear.”

Huh…heh’DZSCHOOOOO!

“And again!”

Greg felt the bed shift as Mycroft sat down next to him, and he struggled to sit up. “Thags,” he croaked out, blowing his nose. Once he was done, he rubbed his eyes; his head was pounding still. He looked over to Mycroft, and frowned.

Mycroft was sitting there, face etched with worry, a handkerchief pressed to his long nose. He studied Gregory, noticing how he was squinting and concluded that he must have a terrible headache. “Let me get something for your head,” he said softly, slipping back out of bed.

He was back quickly, and handed over two small pills and then handed Gregory a cup of tea. Greg nodded his thanks and swallowed them down, relishing the heat and honey on his raw throat. “Are you ok?” Greg rasped out.

Mycroft gave him a puzzled look and then realised what Gregory was referring to; he still had the handkerchief pressed to his nose. “Just the residual effects from this cold,” he said. He dabbed at his nostrils and put the handkerchief to the side, picking up his own tea and taking a sip. “I am more concerned with how you are feeling, Gregory.”

Greg sighed and ran a hand across his face. “Biserable. I feel biserable. Everything hurts,” he whispered. “By head, by sinuses, by throat.” Mycroft looked into his sad, damp, brown eyes and felt his heart ache in response.

Mycroft frowned, sniffling back a drop of moisture of his own, trying to quell the rising irritation in his sinuses. “Once you have finished your tea, you should try to re-ahhhhh rest. Excuse hehhhh me,” he gasped out, rolling his eyes in annoyance as he snatched up his handkerchief.

Mmmmmpfch! Heh’tish! Hng’ISSH! Huh’mffTSChhh!

“God bless you,” Greg rasped out.

“Thank you. My apologies,” Mycroft said, blowing his nose. He watched as Gregory finished off his tea.

“Would you like some sorbet? It might help your throat.”

While he wasn’t hungry, sorbet sounded good, and Greg nodded. Mycroft went over to where the tray he had brought up was, and retrieved a small bowl of the icy, lemon treat.

Greg groaned in pleasure as the sorbet soothed his raw, aching throat. Mycroft couldn’t help but smile as his lover polished off his unconventional breakfast. He would have to ensure that there was more delivered.

Mycroft finished his tea and put his cup to the side along with Gregory’s bowl. He adjusted his lover’s pillows so that he could lay down comfortably without feeling like he was too congested to breathe. Greg was about to lay back down when his nose began to tingle again. He rubbed at it, in hopes of alleviating the irritation, but instead felt the need to sneeze build. Breath hitching, he grabbed his handkerchief and turned his head away from Mycroft.

Heh’uschhhhpf! Heh’HRDSCHH!

“God bless you, Gregory!”

Greg shook his head and gave a rasping, heaving breath as he continued to sneeze.

Hehhhh . . . Huh…heh’DZSCHOOOOO! Huh’huhrahhhSHHooo! Heh’RRRDSCHSH!

“Good heavens! God bless you again!”

Greg nodded wearily and gave his nose as harsh of a blow that he could without setting himself off sneezing again. Exhausted and worn out, he tossed the now sodden cloth to the side and retrieved a new one, before sinking back into the pillows. He wasn’t used to sneezing so much, and his sinuses ached from the pressure. He sniffled pitifully.

“Thag you,” Greg whispered. He found Mycroft’s hand and squeezed it.

“You’re welcome, my dearest heart. Now, please try to rest.”

Greg curled on his side and Mycroft began to rub soothing circles on his back until he heard the soft sounds of his congested snoring start to fill the room. It was only then did he reluctant leave his lover’s side in order to dress and attend to any pressing matters, as well as making sure that an order had been placed for more sorbet and anything else he could possibly think of to help Gregory recover.

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

“I know I promised not to fuss, but I think you need to take something.”

Greg nodded. He didn’t care right now if Mycroft fussed over him all day; he felt absolutely horrendous. His head and sinuses ached and felt like they were filled with cement and his throat felt like he was swallowing crushed glass. He gave a weak cough and a liquid sniffle.

That is probably the most miserable DI Lestrade I have ever encountered. *whispers "poor baby" repeatedly*

“Are you ok?” Greg rasped out.

Mycroft gave him a puzzled look and then realised what Gregory was referring to; he still had the handkerchief pressed to his nose.

And then he still has the presence of mind to worry about Mycroft.

Mycroft frowned, sniffling back a drop of moisture of his own, trying to quell the rising irritation in his sinuses. “Once you have finished your tea, you should try to re-ahhhhh rest. Excuse hehhhh me,” he gasped out, rolling his eyes in annoyance as he snatched up his handkerchief.

That made me want to roll my eyes. Mycroft doesn't have time to be sniffly and sneeze! His Gregory is ill!

Awesome update, as usual.

[AngelEyes]

“Christ, I feel awful,” Gregory mumbled, coughing.

For some reason I can totally hear this in his voice.

Greg quickly grabbed them. “Th-ahhhh-nks,” he managed to croak out before sneezing harshly again.

I love interrupted talking.

Greg sighed and ran a hand across his face. “Biserable. I feel biserable. Everything hurts,” he whispered.

Awwww!!!

He would have to ensure that there was more delivered.

This amused me. The contrast. Where John would make a note to go pick more up, Mycroft makes note to have more delivered.

[Juto]

Sorry I got behind on commenting!!

Haha john walking out because of intestines in the sink? *ahem* weakling!

I loved the text exchange between Sherlock and Lestrade! Secretly caring Sherlock always turn me into jelly!

Ahh, and your latest piece of heart warming fluff! I just adore Mystrade in all their caretaking fluffiness! I can never get enough of that! The caretaking that just puts every other matter in the background!! Poor Gregory! Feeling all "biserable"!!

Sorbet?? Definitely having some of that next time I'm sick

[cally]

That is probably the most miserable DI Lestrade I have ever encountered. *whispers "poor baby" repeatedly*

He doesn't get much better.

This amused me. The contrast. Where John would make a note to go pick more up, Mycroft makes note to have more delivered.

Well, he can't just go to the shop. The noise, the people!

Sorbet?? Definitely having some of that next time I'm sick

I totally stole that from scw.

I totally didn't intend for this to be so long. I also totally intended for this to be the end of this, but I never got to the actual point (well not point, but something at any rate) so I'll need to add on an ending.

37. Interlude II

One week later: Friday

After a week (or longer, if you counted when Greg had started feeling slightly unwell, which Mycroft did) Greg was still unwell. Despite this, he had still managed to drag himself into the Yard for most of the week. He had stayed home Monday and Tuesday, if for no other reason than he could hardly move let alone speak. But Wednesday, he felt just well enough to go in, where he remained cloistered in his office completing paperwork. His office was avoided like he had the plague, which was probably for the best, as along with being unwell, his disposition was not remotely pleasant at all.

It was now Friday and Greg was in his office dealing with the never-ending barrage of paperwork. He was fairly certain that Mycroft’s influence had kept him from any active crime scenes, and while he normally frowned upon his partner’s meddling, in this case it was welcome. He was rather glad of it in fact, as he was still feeling wretched, not that he would tell Mycroft. He was still horrifically congested and his sinuses ached and throbbed. Not to mention the sneezing. He had never sneezed so much in his life as he had in the past week. Groaning in annoyance, he blinked several times as the absolute and utter need to sneeze yet again buzzed through his sinuses.

Hehhhh . . . Huh…heh’DZSCHOOOOO! HRDSCHHhhhh! Hehhhh. . . .heh . . .HETCHSCH’OOOOO!

He had just reached for the tissues on his desk and composed himself, when another vicious and desperately wet sneeze wracked his body.

Heh’HRDSCHHhhhhoooo!

He grabbed for another handful of tissues and his mobile vibrated, as if on cue. He knew exactly what the message would be displayed on the screen.

15:08 God bless you, Gregory. –MH

15:09 Thanks, love. –GL

He rose from his desk, thinking that another coffee would be nice; perhaps it would soothe his still scratchy throat. He shoved his hands into his trouser pockets and came across a soft square of material. Mycroft had somehow managed to slip a handkerchief into his pocket without him knowing. He pulled it out, and found that there was a slip of paper along with it. There was an address and a time, written in Mycroft’s neat script.

Before he had a chance to text Mycroft to ask him about it, or look up the address, Sally burst into his office and he was off after her; they had a crime scene to get to.

It was a cold and raw day, and Greg instinctively pulled his raincoat tightly around him as he surveyed the crime scene and the body; no witnesses, no weapon, of course. He shivered and pulled his collar up against the drizzle. Feeling the annoying tickle return, he quickly pulled out the handkerchief Mycroft had put in his pocket and muffled a harsh, damp sneeze into its folds.

Heh’uschhhhpf!

He sighed and pulled his mobile phone out. He felt miserable; this was no time to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Thirty long, cold, wet minutes later, a black cab pulled up at the corner and Sherlock bounded out. He strode purposefully over, trying not to look too eager. He stopped when he saw Lestrade. Sherlock scrutinized him for a moment.

“You look terrible,” Sherlock said, full of tact as ever.

“Yeah, cheers for that,” Greg said, his voice hoarse and congested. Sniffling, he quickly pulled his handkerchief out again, burying his nose in it.

Heh…huhruhhSHHHF! HRDSCHHhhhh!

Sherlock looked like he was about to say something scathing, but for some reason quickly changed his mind, as if he had remembered something.

“Bless you,” he murmured, before turning his attention to the body.

“Thanks,” Greg muttered. He was a bit surprised Sherlock hadn’t said something rude and callous, but took what he could get when he could get it. He snuffled into the now nearly useless cloth and followed Sherlock, hoarsely filling him in on the little he knew.

Another long hour later, most of which Greg spent shivering, sneezing, and trying to keep dry as possible, as he was led through back alleys and dirty side streets by Sherlock. In the end, they had the suspect in custody, but Greg was cold, miserable and exhausted as a result.

He leaned against a panda car, as he tried to get his bearings. He rubbed at his irritated nose and felt the tickle bloom down through his sinuses and nostrils before gasping out a pair of sneezes.

Hehhhh . . . .hehhhh. . Huh…ASHHHHhhooo! Hehhhh . . . Huh…heh’DZSCHOOOOO!

He sniffled thickly, rubbing his nose against his coat. His handkerchief was long since unusable. He felt like he was moving through a fog, thick with molasses. He sniffled thickly, wondering how it was possible to be so congested and drippy at the same time. It took him a moment longer to register the sleek black car that had pulled up beside him. Shit, he thought. He was supposed to have met Mycroft ages ago.

The door opened. “Get in the car, Gregory.” Mycroft did not sound pleased; if anything he sounded weary himself. Greg knew from the tone of voice and lack of a blessing that Mycroft was irate, but was doing a good job of controlling his anger.

Greg dragged himself over and slid inside the car, doing his best not to get the interior of the car damp. He sank back against the seat and closed his eyes for a few moments. When he opened them again, he found Mycroft reading something on his mobile, but he was holding out a handkerchief for him.

“Thags,” Greg said. He took it from Mycroft and thoroughly blew his nose. It did little to quell the persistent irritation within his sinus cavity. He gave a ragged, heaving breath and sneezed harshly, doing his best to muffle the outbursts.

Hehhhh . . . Huh…heh’DZSCHOOOO! Huh. . . Heh’uschhhhpf! HRDSCHHhhhh!

He paused a moment, breath hitching over and over until the sneeze finally overpowered him, throwing him forward.

Hehhh. . . . heh. . . . HuhhrahhhSHHhhhooo!

When he finally composed himself, he found Mycroft watching him, an unreadable look on his face. “God bless you,” Mycroft said.

“Thags. S’cuse be,” Greg said groggily, his voice barely a croak.

Mycroft opened his mouth to speak, but instead pursed his lips, and shook his head with a sigh. It was only then that Greg realised the car had stopped. Greg exited the car, as did Mycroft.

Greg wasn’t familiar the location. It was only when he saw the sign on the side of the building did he realise; they were at the new offices where John was practicing as a locum GP. They walked silently up the stairs and inside. It was after hours, but John was waiting for them.

John frowned when he saw Greg; he was certain Sherlock hadn’t been serious when he had texted him earlier. Clearly he had been; Greg looked absolutely appalling. He was pale and there were dark circles around his eyes. His sinuses looked puffy and inflamed and the tip of his nose was pink and chapped.

Before any of them could say anything, Greg turned away and sneezed abrasively into the handkerchief Mycroft had just given him.

Hehh’DSCHshhhh! HuhRRrshsh! “Heh’SSShhuh! Hehhhh . . . Huh…heh’DZSCHOOOO!

“God bless you, Gregory!” Mycroft exclaimed.

John echoed the blessing and led the inspector over to a seat. “Let’s take a look at you, yeah?”

Greg nodded, snuffling into the handkerchief. He was worn out and tired of sneezing. He took a moment and blew his nose, wincing at how tender his nostrils were.

“Mycroft said you’ve not been feeling well for over a week now. Other than the obvious sneezing, any other symptoms? Any coughing or pain?” John asked, placing a tympanic thermometer in Greg’s ear. It gave a quick reading of a slightly elevated temperature.

Greg shook his head. “I’b fide, really.”

Mycroft huffed from where he was standing against the wall, arms crossed, watching the situation unfold. John turned and glared at him, but Mycroft held his ground.

“Since Gregory will not speak for himself, it is clear that I will have to.” Greg looked like he was going to interrupt, but Mycroft silenced him with a cold look.

“Gregory has not been feeling well for well over a week. He has been sneezing frequently and has been congested to the point that he is not sleeping more than two hours at a time. His sinuses are inflamed and swollen and he has had a sore throat for just as long.” Worry and anxiety were evident in Mycroft’s voice.

As Mycroft spoke, Greg realised that his lover was deeply concerned about him and he would be a hypocrite if he didn’t acquiesce; hadn’t he done the same thing for Mycroft on more than one occasion? Sheepishly, he looked down at the floor. This did nothing more than to irritate Greg’s tender sinuses, and he scrabbled for the handkerchief again.

Heh’rahhhNGHTshhooo! HRDSCHHhhhh!

“God bless you!” Mycroft said.

“Bless you!” John said, frowning at the sound. He reached over and pushed the box of tissues on the table closer to Greg. He then pulled the rolling chair over and sat down, so he was sitting in front of Greg. He waited until Greg was done tending to his nose before continuing his examination.

With gentle fingers, John pressed Greg’s forehead. He immediately flinched and recoiled, confirming both Mycroft and John’s suspicions. Just to be sure, John did the same in the sinus cavities below Greg’s eyes. The older man hissed in pain, and quickly pulled away, heaving with ticklish breaths, the simple touch was too much for his sensitive sinuses to handle. His eyes fluttered shut and his face slackened as he built up to a series of increasingly congested sounding sneezes. Mycroft had moved closer while John had been doing his examination and pressed a handful of tissues into Greg’s hand. Greg tried to suppress and muffle the sneezes as best as he could, but was unable to keep up the effort to do so.

Heh . . . .heh. . . . . .Huh’hrahhhSHHhgnxt! Heh’rahhhNGHTshh! Huh……..HuhASHHHHhhooo! Huh…heh’DZSCHOOOO!

“Good heavens! God bless you again!” Mycroft said, holding out another handful of tissues.

“Bless you!” John said.

Greg nodded his thanks as he blew his nose.

“Well, you’ve got yourself a rather impressive sinus infection, Greg.” John began. “I’m going to write you a prescription for antibiotics and for a nasal spray, which should help the congestion some. The usual Sudafed and ibuprofen for everything else, along with rest. You can’t just go running around crime scenes right now, not until the inflammation has subsided some.” His voice was gentle, but firm.

Greg nodded, but there was a look of apprehension on his face that both John and Mycroft noticed.

“Gregory, is something the matter?” Mycroft frowned.

Greg rubbed his nose with the tissues he was still holding. He turned to John. “Are there ady side effegds with the sbray?” He asked cautiously, not meeting Mycroft’s eye.

John gave him a puzzled look. “I don’t think so. What do you mean?”

Mycroft interjected. “I believe Gregory is referring to my rather atypical response to a similar medication.”

John most certainly did not want to know. He turned back to Greg. “I shouldn’t think so. It will help you breathe a bit better. It might be a bit drying, but other than that I can’t think of anything that would outweigh the benefits.”

Greg merely nodded. He could feel yet another sneeze building, and was doing his best to ignore its prickling presence.

“I’ll be right back with the prescriptions,” John said. He left and went into the adjoining small office space, taking his time writing them out. He had a feeling that the two of them needed a moment alone together.

Mycroft sat down in the chair vacated by John. He wasn’t carrying his umbrella, and looked down at his hands until Gregory’s intake of breath and subsequent sneezes startled him out of his thoughts.

Huh’etcssSHHhhooo! Heh…heh’DZSCHOOOO!

Greg grabbed a handful of tissues and buried his nose within them, rubbing fiercely. He was so tired of sneezing and said as much.

“God bless you, my dear.” Mycroft said gently. He frowned, seeing how red Gregory’s nose had become from the abrasive tissues. He pulled his own handkerchief from his pocket and replaced the tissues with it, tossing them in the bin. “My apologies, Gregory. I should have offered this to you sooner.”

“It’s ok. Thags,” he said, gesturing to the cloth. He blew his nose gently, doing his best to not trigger another fit of sneezes. He leaned back in the chair and sighed, closing his eyes.

“Are you alright?” Mycroft asked cautiously. While he was worried that Gregory would be irritated with him for getting him medical attention, he knew that the choice outweighed any annoyance his partner would have, especially now that he was aware he had a sinus infection. He was about to continue his inquiry, but his own sinuses tingled and he turned away, bringing his wrist to his nose.

Mmmpfx! Mmmmmpfch!

“Oh. Excuse me.” Mycroft murmured.

“God bless you, Myc.” Greg gave him a sad smile.

“Thank you.” He paused a moment, but Greg began to speak.

“I’b sorry for worrying you.” He sank his head into his hands. He was worn out and exhausted to the brink of tears. “Ad I worry I’b nod edough for you,” he whispered, his faint voice cracking with emotion.

Mycroft was about to reply, when John came back in, brandishing two pieces of paper. “Here you go. Give me a ring if you’re not feeling any better after the weekend, ok?”

Greg took the prescriptions and put them in the pocket of his coat. “Thags, John,” he said.

“Yes, thank you Doctor Watson,” Mycroft said, giving him a curt nod.

“No worries,” John said, leading them out to the door. “Feel better, Greg.”

Greg gave him a half-hearted grin and allowed himself to be led outside and to the waiting car by his partner. Once they were inside the car, Mycroft turned to Greg. “Gregory Lestrade, you are the most decent and honourable man that I have ever met. Do not for one moment ever think that you are not good enough for me. You are far, far too good for me, my dearest heart.” He reached over and squeezed Gregory’s hand.

Greg blinked. He was overwhelmed with emotion and he could feel his eyes welling up with tears. The sensation set off his sensitive nose and he pressed the handkerchief to his nose. “Sorry,” he whispered. “Have to hehhhhh sneeze agaid.”

Heh . . . . . . .heh’DZSCHOOOO! Heh . . . .heh . . . . ahhh! “Christ, it’s hehhhhh stuck,” he gasped, panting out ticklish breaths until finally he was awarded some measure of relief.

HRDSCHHhhhhooo! Heh’ahhhTISSHsshhhhhooo!

“God bless you, God bless you, God bless you!” Mycroft said, once he was certain Gregory was finished. He was not one for elaborate blessings, but he thought the added sentiment might bring some comfort to his ill lover.

“Thags,” Gregory murmured.

Greg settled back and put his head on Mycroft’s shoulder. Mycroft put his arm around the inspector and pulled him in as close as he could and began to card his fingers through Gregory’s silver hair. Humming in appreciation, Greg closed his eyes and dozed off as they drove through the damp city streets to their home.

[AngelEyes]

Well, he can't just go to the shop. The noise, the people!

LOL!!!

This is wonderful. Poor poor Gregory. So miserable.

Not to mention the sneezing. He had never sneezed so much in his life as he had in the past week. Groaning in annoyance, he blinked several times as the absolute and utter need to sneeze yet again buzzed through his sinuses.

Mmmmm.

There was an address and a time, written in Mycroft’s neat script.

??????

“Yeah, cheers for that,” Greg said, his voice hoarse and congested.

I can totally hear this.

The door opened. “Get in the car, Gregory.” Mycroft did not sound pleased; if anything he sounded weary himself. Greg knew from the tone of voice and lack of a blessing that Mycroft was irate, but was doing a good job of controlling his anger.

Uh oh. No blessing means Mycroft is Pissed!!!

Greg nodded, snuffling into the handkerchief. He was worn out and tired of sneezing. He took a moment and blew his nose, wincing at how tender his nostrils were.

Poor baby.

As Mycroft spoke, Greg realised that his lover was deeply concerned about him and he would be a hypocrite if he didn’t acquiesce; hadn’t he done the same thing for Mycroft on more than one occasion?

That's right, be a good boy.

Heh . . . .heh. . . . . .Huh’hrahhhSHHhgnxt! Heh’rahhhNGHTshh! Huh……..HuhASHHHHhhooo! Huh…heh’DZSCHOOOO!

“Good heavens! God bless you again!” Mycroft said, holding out another handful of tissues.

Heavens indeed!

Mycroft interjected. “I believe Gregory is referring to my rather atypical response to a similar medication.”

John most certainly did not want to know.

Epic!

Once they were inside the car, Mycroft turned to Greg. “Gregory Lestrade, you are the most decent and honourable man that I have ever met. Do not for one moment ever think that you are not good enough for me. You are far, far too good for me, my dearest heart.” He reached over and squeezed Gregory’s hand.

Honestly boys. You are both perfect for each other. Quit forgetting it. Both of you!

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

Mycroft had somehow managed to slip a handkerchief into his pocket without him knowing. He pulled it out, and found that there was a slip of paper along with it. There was an address and a time, written in Mycroft’s neat script.

Hmm... Where is Greg supposed to go?

It took him a moment longer to register the sleek black car that had pulled up beside him. Shit, he thought. He was supposed to have met Mycroft ages ago.

Shit, is right!

It was only when he saw the sign on the side of the building did he realise; they were at the new offices where John was practicing as a locum GP.

Ha! I knew it!

Greg shook his head. “I’b fide, really.”

Mycroft huffed from where he was standing against the wall, arms crossed, watching the situation unfold. John turned and glared at him, but Mycroft held his ground.

“Since Gregory will not speak for himself, it is clear that I will have to.” Greg looked like he was going to interrupt, but Mycroft silenced him with a cold look.

Totally classic, like a old married couple. I love it!

Greg rubbed his nose with the tissues he was still holding. He turned to John. “Are there ady side effegds with the sbray?” He asked cautiously, not meeting Mycroft’s eye.

John gave him a puzzled look. “I don’t think so. What do you mean?”

Mycroft interjected. “I believe Gregory is referring to my rather atypical response to a similar medication.”

John most certainly did not want to know. He turned back to Greg. “I shouldn’t think so. It will help you breathe a bit better. It might be a bit drying, but other than that I can’t think of anything that would outweigh the benefits.”

*squeals with delight* I can't believe it! I feel like I've hit the big time! Cally is referencing me! (Anyone who wants to know about Mycroft's "atypical response" can check my thread for the story Games.) Cally your boys are welcome to all the sorbet they need!

This was an awesome story. I really enjoyed it. Thank you!

[cally]

Uh oh. No blessing means Mycroft is Pissed!!!

He was a bit annoyed, yes.

*squeals with delight* I can't believe it! I feel like I've hit the big time! Cally is referencing me! (Anyone who wants to know about Mycroft's "atypical response" can check my thread for the story Games.) Cally your boys are welcome to all the sorbet they need!

This was an awesome story. I really enjoyed it. Thank you!

I'm glad you enjoyed. I've finally finished this. I've no idea why it has taken so long. It's been written in my head for a very long time.

38. coda

One Mycroft got Greg home, he sent a minion off with the prescription; there was no need to keep his lover out and about any longer than necessary. He settled Greg down at the kitchen table with a box of tissues, and went about making them some tea and some dinner, starting with the tea.

Greg stretched his legs out and sighed, rubbing at his nose. He was tired of the sinus pressure and pain and really hoped that whatever John had prescribed worked quickly. He smiled tiredly as Mycroft brought over his tea. “Thags, love,” he croaked out. Mycroft squeezed his shoulder as he went back over to the stove to check on the soup.

Greg cradled his hands around the mug, absorbing the warmth. He idly watched the steam curl and rise for a moment, before lifting the mug to take a sip. Unfortunately, the steam rose directly into his chapped, irritated nostrils and he quickly put his tea down and cupped his hands around his nose.

Huh……..HuhASHHHHhhooo! Huh…heh’DZSCHOOOO!

Mycroft nearly jumped at the sound.

“Goodness! God bless you, my dear.” He turned and frowned at his partner’s appearance.

Greg sniffed, tissues pressed to his reddened nose. “Thag you,” he murmured. He pushed his cup to the side and sank his head into his hands.

Mycroft turned the heat down low on the burner so that the soup would stay warm. He walked over to Greg and put his hands on his shoulders and began to gently massage the tight muscles.

Greg groaned and leaned into the touch. His neck and shoulder muscles were incredibly tight from stress, lack of sleep, and the overabundance of coughing and sneezing he had been doing over the past week.

Mycroft continued his ministrations for some time, until Greg took several, hitching breaths and sneezed harshly, his hands cupped around his nose and mouth.

Heh’rahhhNGHTshhooo! HRDSCHHhhhhooo!

“God bless you,” Mycroft said, reaching over for the tissues. He pulled out a fair handful and offered them over.

Greg nodded gratefully, blowing his nose with a heavy sigh. Mycroft waited until he was finished and then pressed a kiss to the top of Greg’s head, before going back over to serve out the soup.

Yawning, Greg heaved himself out of his chair. He tossed the handfuls of tissues away and then went over to the sink and washed his hands before sitting back down to eat.

Not long after dinner, Mycroft found Greg in their bedroom sitting on the bed, contemplating the item in his hand. The older man was warm from his shower, and his hair was still damp and sticking up in every direction. Mycroft sat down beside him, giving Greg a curious look.

“Is something wrong?” Mycroft asked.

“Just a bit hesitant about this,” Greg said, shaking the bottle of nasal spray.

Mycroft chuckled. “I am sure that you will be fine.”

Greg nodded. “Well, I suppose I had better get this over with,” he said, his voice still raspy.

He shook the bottle and removed the cap before inserting it into a nostril and pressing the plunger, sniffing simultaneously. He paused a moment afterward. So far, so good. He repeated the action on the other side, but as he did, a poorly timed cough caught him off guard. He must have sprayed harder or something, because in the next second he was sneezing viciously.

Huh…heh’DZSCHOOOO! Heh. . . . heh. . . Heh’SSShhuh!

“God bless you!” He felt Mycroft press tissues into his hands before he sneezed again.

Hehhh. . . . heh. . . . HuhhrahhhSHHhhhooo!

He blew his nose, coughed, sputtered, and blew his nose some more. He felt absolutely repulsive and he wondered how on earth Mycroft was still sitting next to him. He wondered how long this nasty congestion would last.

“God bless you again, my dear,” Mycroft said softly. He offered a fresh handful of tissues over once again.

Greg blew his nose again and then balled up the tissues and tossed them in the bin by the bed. “Thanks. Sorry. That was disgusting,” he murmured, shuddering from embarrassment.

When he finally met Mycroft’s eyes, he was confused by the look his lover was giving him. Mycroft looked wistful, worried and something else Greg couldn’t read.

“Please do not trouble yourself, Gregory. It is understandable that with such an infection that there is bound to be such . . . . unpleasantness. And of all people who would understand,” he said, not finishing his sentence.

Greg nodded as he tried to hold back a yawn and failed. He was suddenly exhausted, and he briefly wondered if Mycroft slipped a sleeping pill in with his antibiotic, sinus medicine, and ibuprofen.

Mycroft got to his feet so that Greg could get up and under the duvet. Once he was settled, he sat back down again, and gently ran his fingers through Greg’s still damp hair. Greg’s eyes fluttered shut and he may have moaned something indecent.

Fighting sleep, Greg opened his eyes again and focused on Mycroft. “Thank you, love,” he whispered hoarsely.

“It was no trouble,” Mycroft replied. “Now sleep, Gregory.”

Greg nodded and closed his eyes. He was asleep before Mycroft turned out the light.

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

Greg blew his nose again and then balled up the tissues and tossed them in the bin by the bed. “Thanks. Sorry. That was disgusting,” he murmured, shuddering from embarrassment.

When he finally met Mycroft’s eyes, he was confused by the look his lover was giving him. Mycroft looked wistful, worried and something else Greg couldn’t read.

Ok that makes me sad, b/c Mycroft is like this every night. Mycroft doesn't think Greg thinks he's disgusting does he?

I hope Greg feels better soon. I know Mycroft will take extra special care of him.

[cally]

Ok that makes me sad, b/c Mycroft is like this every night. Mycroft doesn't think Greg thinks he's disgusting does he?

I hope Greg feels better soon. I know Mycroft will take extra special care of him.

I didn't feel the need to be overly graphic because I know that it's not everyone's thing, but let's just say that Greg was pretty much a disgusting mess. I'd even go as far as to say that Mycroft on a daily basis wouldn't be that much of a mess, maybe only if he were ill or in the worst of his allergic misery. And no, Greg doesn't think Mycroft is disgusting. It doesn't even register on his radar; he just feels helpless when Mycroft is not feeling well.

[cally]

39. meetings

If there was one thing Detective Inspector Lestrade disliked more than paperwork, it was meetings involving paperwork, mentioning paperwork, or about how to make paperwork more efficient. Five minutes before said meeting started, he gathered up his files and headed down the hallway. Halfway there, his nose began to prickle and run. He rubbed at his nose with the back of his hand, which did nothing to alleviate the irritation. He shoved his hand into his pocket searching for a handkerchief; nothing. He sighed heavily to himself as he ducked into the toilet. He quickly put his files down and gasped out a heady sneeze.

Huh…heh’DZSCHOOOO!

Greg grabbed a paper towel and blew his nose, wincing at the rough paper on his nose. He had become accustomed to Mycroft slipping handkerchiefs into his pocket with the little notes that went along with them. He missed him more than ever and he couldn’t wait for him to return from his trip to the Continent.

Even though his phone hadn’t buzzed with a message, he checked it anyways in case he had somehow missed it. Again, nothing. As much as it was creepy when Mycroft watched him on CCTV, he found it endearing when Mycroft went out of his way to text him a blessing. He missed the texts and attention to detail that Mycroft gave every aspect of his life, both their lives for that matter. He shook his head; he was getting wistful and it had only been a couple of days. He certainly had fallen fast and hard for Mycroft. With a quick glance in the mirror, he gave his nose a final rub as he picked up his files and headed out the door.

40. overwhelming

Mycroft rubbed at his forehead for a moment before settling back against the sofa with the thick file he was reading. He sat quietly, engaged in the material for a few minutes before having to set it down beside him. He leaned forward, his elbows on his thighs, as he rubbed along his cheekbones with his thumbs. Specifically, it was the space right below his eyes that was causing him the most discomfort. The sinus pain and pressure was overwhelming to the point of distraction; he should have finished reading the file on this particular matter an hour ago.

He sniffed sharply in frustration, trying to quell the incipient tickle building in his sinuses and down into his long nose. This was normally the time of year when he was free of such diversions and annoyances; long gone were the seasonal blooms of spring and summer, not to return for several months. And he had been relatively healthy for most of autumn; he had no idea why his body chose to betray him now.

The desperate need to sneeze had completely taken over, his paperwork forgotten for the moment. Mycroft fumbled for his handkerchief in his trouser pocket, as his breath hitched erratically. He could feel his nostrils flaring, adding to the irritation.

Heh’TSSSCHH! Gn’TNSGH’SHHHH! Heh’TNSGH! Heh’TISSSHH-ooo!

The sneezes overwhelmed him and he was unable to hold them back like he was accustomed to doing. He found this disconcerting and he idly wondered if he had somehow managed to develop a sinus infection. His concentration was broken as Gregory called out a blessing as he walked into the room.

“Bless you, love!”

Greg came over to the sofa, carrying two mugs. He was careful not to spill any of the liquid inside as he sat down next to Mycroft.

Still covering his nose with his handkerchief, Mycroft moved the file from the sofa to the coffee table. Greg took this as an invitation to move closer to his lover, and he slid over, placing a tender kiss to Mycroft’s forehead, brushing his fingers along his temples. He grinned as he watched Mycroft’s expression brighten.

Mycroft dabbed at his nose and then placed the handkerchief back into his pocket. Picking up his mug, he shared a genuine smile with Gregory. “Thank you, my dear. Please do excuse me.” He took a sip; perhaps the honey and whiskey would help where traditional methods had failed. He was thankful for the thoughtfulness that Gregory had put into the drink and he hummed appreciatively.

Greg huffed out a chuckle at Mycroft’s formality. One of these days he would get the younger man to be less worried about appearances, even when it was just the two of them. He sipped his own drink, stretching his legs out in front of him. He was tired, but not unreasonably so, and was looking forward to a quiet evening.

Mycroft felt a sudden warmth and affection toward his partner that could only be partially a result of the hot beverage. Not that this was an uncharacteristic feeling; it was not. He loved Gregory, very much so. There were times when the feelings he had for Gregory became much more pronounced; to the point that the love and affection overwhelmed him and transcended all other thoughts. This was one of those times, where he felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest when he looked at his beloved Gregory.

Unable to speak as he was so overcome with emotion, Mycroft stretched his legs out, his thigh pressing warmly up against Greg’s. He then reached over and took Greg’s hand firmly in his and squeezed.

They sat, sipping their drinks, and exchanging various tidbits about their days. Mycroft felt the congestion loosening in his sinuses, brought on by the steam from the hot, whiskey-laden tea. He sniffled delicately, not wanting to ruin the moment. Unfortunately, Mycroft’s nose had other ideas and he quickly put his cup down and turned his head away, ducking behind his wrist.

Heh’INGTISHooo! Heh’TISSSHHoooo!

Sniffling damply in the aftermath, Mycroft immediately wished he had reached for his handkerchief, and he blushed furiously.

“Bless you,” Greg said quietly. He had already reached for the tissues and held out a few towards his partner.

“Thank you, Gregory. Apologies,” Mycroft murmured before blowing his nose as gently as possible.

“You’re welcome.” Greg stretched an arm out along the sofa and behind Mycroft.

Mycroft relaxed into the embrace, settling closer to Greg than he had been before. Greg pulled him in even closer, so that Mycroft was flush against him, and then placed a kiss on the top of his head.

Mycroft chuckled lightly. He could feel Greg smiling, his lips still pressed to his head. Yes, this was what love was, he thought to himself.

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

The first one was cute. How easy it is to become spoiled, huh Greg?

But the second one...

Mycroft felt a sudden warmth and affection toward his partner that could only be partially a result of the hot beverage. Not that this was an uncharacteristic feeling; it was not. He loved Gregory, very much so. There were times when the feelings he had for Gregory became much more pronounced; to the point that the love and affection overwhelmed him and transcended all other thoughts. This was one of those times, where he felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest when he looked at his beloved Gregory.

Unable to speak as he was so overcome with emotion, Mycroft stretched his legs out, his thigh pressing warmly up against Greg’s. He then reached over and took Greg’s hand firmly in his and squeezed.

Oh my heart!

“Bless you,” Greg said quietly. He had already reached for the tissues and held out a few towards his partner.

“Thank you, Gregory. Apologies,” Mycroft murmured before blowing his nose as gently as possible.

“You’re welcome.” Greg stretched an arm out along the sofa and behind Mycroft.

Mycroft relaxed into the embrace, settling closer to Greg than he had been before. Greg pulled him in even closer, so that Mycroft was flush against him, and then placed a kiss on the top of his head.

Mycroft chuckled lightly. He could feel Greg smiling, his lips still pressed to his head. Yes, this was what love was, he thought to himself.

What a beautiful moment you captured. So tender. I just...

[Kaze Wo Hiku]

He had become accustomed to Mycroft slipping handkerchiefs into his pocket with the little notes that went along with them. He missed him more than ever and he couldn’t wait for him to return from his trip to the Continent.

THIS IS SO CUTE!!! God Mycroft you melt me!!!

Mycroft felt a sudden warmth and affection toward his partner that could only be partially a result of the hot beverage. Not that this was an uncharacteristic feeling; it was not. He loved Gregory, very much so. There were times when the feelings he had for Gregory became much more pronounced; to the point that the love and affection overwhelmed him and transcended all other thoughts. This was one of those times, where he felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest when he looked at his beloved Gregory.

I echo scw...THIS PART!!

so adorable, these two make my heart happy. Great work as always cally.

[AngelEyes]

Even though his phone hadn’t buzzed with a message, he checked it anyways in case he had somehow missed it. Again, nothing. As much as it was creepy when Mycroft watched him on CCTV, he found it endearing when Mycroft went out of his way to text him a blessing.

Awww!

Greg huffed out a chuckle at Mycroft’s formality. One of these days he would get the younger man to be less worried about appearances, even when it was just the two of them.

Good Luck!

Mycroft chuckled lightly. He could feel Greg smiling, his lips still pressed to his head. Yes, this was what love was, he thought to himself.

Awww!!!

[cally]

What a beautiful moment you captured. So tender. I just...

I'm very glad it was appreciated.

THIS IS SO CUTE!!! God Mycroft you melt me!!!

He does have his moments.

Good Luck!

Seriously, right?

This is just a bit of angsty fluff (fluffy angst?) for scw on her birthday.

41. birthday

Mycroft gave a faint sniff as he organised the papers he had been working on. He had hoped to have the entire day to spend with Gregory, but there had been an early morning phone call, which led to Anthea delivering the most urgent of paperwork to him.

It was mid-afternoon now, and he hoped not to have any further interruptions. He was thinking about how he would like to spend the remainder of the day when Greg knocked on the partially opened door.

“All done?” He asked, hopefully.

“Yes. The crisis has been averted.” As if on cue, Mycroft’s mobile vibrated and lit up simultaneously. A quick glance showed that it was most certainly not an emergency. He ignored it and rose to embrace his partner.

Mycroft’s mobile vibrated again.

“D’you need to get that?” Greg mumbled, his face buried in Mycroft’s shoulder.

“No. It is of no importance,” Mycroft replied. He placed a kiss on Greg’s temple.

Greg lifted his head, and the two met in a gentle kiss.

Almost insistently, Mycroft’s mobile buzzed again, and Greg couldn’t resist a peek. From the quick glance he gave it, he could see the message was from Sherlock. Hence the avoidance, he thought.

Breaking the kiss, Mycroft sighed and rolled his eyes. He glared at the offending piece of technology.

“Maybe you should just answer it?” Greg mused thoughtfully. As he spoke, Mycroft’s mobile vibrated yet again, and this time Greg could see all of the messages. He frowned and stepped back from his partner, crossing his arms.

Mycroft at least had the decency to avoid his eyes.

“Is what Sherlock said true?” Greg didn’t sound annoyed; he sounded disappointed.

Mycroft nodded, still not meeting Greg’s gaze.

“Today’s your birthday!?” Greg sounded incredulous. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

“I did not want you to make a fuss.” Mycroft said with a sniff. There was a faint tickling presence within his sinuses, and he rubbed at his nose. This did nothing more than increase the irritation and he gave a sharp intake of breath as he gave into a flurry of increasingly ticklish sneezes.

Hehhhh…….Mmpfx! Mmmpfch! Mmmpftish! Heh’mmmpfx! Mmmmmpfx! Mmmmpfx’gkt! Mmmpfx’ish! Hehhhhh . . . . Heh’TISSSHHoooo!

“Christ, Myc. Bless you!” Greg went to reach for the tissues on Mycroft’s desk, but was waved away as Mycroft removed his handkerchief from his trouser pocket and gently blew his nose.

“Thank you. My apologies, Gregory.” Mycroft said.

Greg thought he sounded congested, but he didn’t comment on it. Instead, he sighed heavily. “I wish you had told me,” he said quietly. “I wouldn’t have made a fuss. I would have got you a gift at least. Made you breakfast in bed or something.”

“It is not necessary,” Mycroft said.

Greg gave him a hard stare. “No, because heaven forbid you actually feel things like the rest of us,” he said angrily.

Mycroft frowned. He had not expected such a reaction. He had grown used to not celebrating birthdays and holidays; it was just another day after all. However, he had evidently miscalculated Greg’s feelings on the matter.

“I am sorry. I had grown accustomed to not celebrating. I did not think that it mattered.”

Greg sighed and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “Of course it matters. I love you, Mycroft. I think you’re worth celebrating,” he said quietly.

Mycroft gaped at this and for once was at a loss for words. He stood, staring at Greg for a long moment.

Greg had to smile at Mycroft’s reaction. “C’mere,” he said, pulling Mycroft into his arms. He wrapped his arms around the younger man and held him tight until he felt Mycroft relax against him.

Brushing a soft kiss against Mycroft’s ear, he whispered, “Happy birthday, love.”

[matilda3948]

“Is what Sherlock said true?” Greg didn’t sound annoyed; he sounded disappointed.

Mycroft nodded, still not meeting Greg’s gaze.

“Today’s your birthday!?” Greg sounded incredulous. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

Somebody's in trouble!

[cally]

Somebody's in trouble!

I know! Poor Mycroft!

For me!?! Aww...Thank you!!

You're very welcome!

Liar, you would have made a fuss...and cake! Admit it, Greg.

Yeah, you're right!

For some reason, I decided to share Sherlock's perspective on this. It sort of got stuck in my head.

42. joyful

Sherlock contemplated his mobile for a moment and then sent a text. And then several more after that. He almost looked joyful, John thought as he came into the sitting room with tea for both of them.

“Case?” John asked hopefully. Sherlock had been driven to distraction as of late and he had prayed constantly for Lestrade to contact one of them with a juicy murder. The poor wall had enough bullet holes, thank you very much.

“No. I was texting my brother.” Sherlock took a sip of the tea John had just placed in front of him.

“Oh,” John said glumly. “You don’t usually look so enthusiastic when you text Mycroft.”

“Today is different. It’s Mycroft’s birthday.” Sherlock had a look John couldn’t quite place on his face.

“His birthday?” John looked and sounded incredulous. “I thought he was, well, you know, hatched as part of a secret government plot or something.”

Sherlock threw his head back and laughed and then flung himself to his feet, pulling his dressing gown around him. He wandered over to the window and stated down at the street.

“Very good, John. I will have to use that one myself.” Sherlock grinned back at his blogger.

“So, what’s the reason for your good mood then? It can’t be because it’s your brother’s birthday.” John sat down in his chair with his tea and watched Sherlock fidget with first his dressing gown and then the sash holding the curtain back.

“Because, John,” Sherlock began, but then he turned quickly away from the window and sneezed.

Hngxt! Hehhh’ngxt!

“Bless you! You really should let Mrs. Hudson take the curtains to the cleaners,” John observed.

“Hmmm,” Sherlock replied with a sniff. He ignored the platitude.

“As you were saying,” John said.

“Oh yes, right. You see, John, Mycroft had not informed Lestrade that today is his birthday,” Sherlock stated, coming back to sit down. He took a sip of tea and glanced up at John.

John was frowning at him.

“A bit not good?” Sherlock remarked.

“No, not good Sherlock,” John sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Well, at any rate, Gavin knows now,” Sherlock said, pouting and wrapping his arms around himself.

“Greg. His name is Greg for the thousandth time!” John sounded exasperated.

“Hmmm? Oh, whatever.” Sherlock waved a hand in the air. He was obviously disinterested in this portion of the conversation.

John rolled his eyes. “So you did all of that so that Greg would find out it was Mycroft’s birthday?”

“Of course, John. Do keep up,” he chided, taking another sip of his tea.

[stargazer]

[MyOwnPrivateSFC]

Sherlock!

[Kaze Wo Hiku]

Greg sighed and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “Of course it matters. I love you, Mycroft. I think you’re worth celebrating,” he said quietly.

Dawwwwww Greg

So fraking cute as always Cally.

[AngelEyes]

Greg sighed and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “Of course it matters. I love you, Mycroft. I think you’re worth celebrating,” he said quietly.

Mycroft gaped at this and for once was at a loss for words. He stood, staring at Greg for a long moment.

Awwww!!!!!!

“His birthday?” John looked and sounded incredulous. “I thought he was, well, you know, hatched as part of a secret government plot or something.”

OMG, that is so John!

“A bit not good?” Sherlock remarked.

One of my favorite Sherlock phrases for some reason!

“Well, at any rate, Gavin knows now,” Sherlock said, pouting and wrapping his arms around himself.

“Greg. His name is Greg for the thousandth time!” John sounded exasperated.

Really!

“Of course, John. Do keep up,” he chided, taking another sip of his tea.

Perfect Sherlock!

The birthday one was adorable. The one from Sherlock's perspective was fantastic. You do Sherlock and John so well! I'd love to see you do more of them. But I'm totally ok with the all the Mystrade. Anytime. LOL

[cally]

Sherlock!

I know! Such a troublemaker.

Dawwwwww Greg

Somehow I think Sherlock expected there to be a colossal row. Ha! He underestimates his brother and Greg's relationship. But then we think he generally underestimates Greg.

Yes, Sherlock expected a huge blow up. Too bad his plan failed.

The birthday one was adorable. The one from Sherlock's perspective was fantastic. You do Sherlock and John so well! I'd love to see you do more of them. But I'm totally ok with the all the Mystrade. Anytime. LOL

Thank you. I should write more Sherlock and John. Or Sherlock in general.

43. Sunday

Mycroft sniffed for what seemed the thousandth time this afternoon. His nose seemed to be perpetually dripping; he had gone through several handkerchiefs already. He sighed raggedly and frowned at his computer screen. He had hoped for a more relaxing afternoon as he had hoped to spend some time with Greg. Alas, work had come first once again.

He reached for his handkerchief where he had left it in his lap and dabbed at his nose. He was certain that his nostrils were pink and irritated by now. He focused once again on the various files up on his screen looking for the connection that had to be there. If only he could focus!

He sniffled again, more harshly this time, but it only served to irritate his nasal passages. He felt his breath hitch and he buried his nose within the cloth.

Mmmpfch! Mmmpftish!

“For goodness sake,” he murmured to himself. He blew his nose as gently as he could.

He suddenly made the connection and quickly sent a text to Anthea. She could handle the rest of this. He closed the files and shut down his computer.

Getting to his feet, he left his office and went off to find his partner. Blowing his nose, he walked down the hallway and into the study. He found Greg watching something on television, a bottle of beer in front of him.

Greg looked up with a grin as he walked in the room. “All finished?” He asked, looking Mycroft over.

Mycroft nodded and sank into the couch next to him. He leaned his head back against the dark leather and exhaled deeply, closing his eyes. He was tired, his shoulders ached, and he felt weary overall.

Mycroft felt the couch cushions shift and felt Greg’s hand squeeze his thigh. He smiled and put his hand over Greg’s and returned the gesture. Sniffing again, Mycroft attempted to relax as to ease the tension in his shoulders. He felt Greg’s eyes on him. He tried to ignore the attention, as the irritation within his nasal passages had returned.

He turned his body, angling it away from Greg. He quickly cupped his hands around his nose and gave into the tickle.

Mmmmmpfx! Mmmmpfx’gkt! Mmmpfx’ish! Heh . . . . .Heh’TSSSCHH!

Mycroft groaned softly in the aftermath. The sneezes had been rather damp and he was irritated he hadn’t grabbed for his handkerchief. He sniffled from behind his cupped hands.

He heard Greg pluck tissues from the box. “Oh, bless you, love. Here,” Greg said, pressing the tissues in between Mycroft’s fingers.

“Thank you, Gregory. My apologies,” Mycroft said, blowing his nose. He sniffled damply and rubbed his nose with the now balled up tissues. He reached for the tissues and repeated the act, blowing his nose again. He could feel Greg watching him again, probably trying to discern is something was amiss.

Mycroft was about to alleviate Greg’s fears, but instead quickly reached for the tissues again, breath hitching.

“Try not to stifle, love,” Greg said, teasingly.

Mycroft was barely able to roll his eyes before he succumbed once again.

Huh’mffTSChhh! Heh . . huh ING’SHHHHH! NGISHOOO! Hng’ISSH-OOO!

“God bless you, Myc,” Greg said, reaching for the tissue box. He handed another handful to his lover and looked him over carefully.

“Thank you, my dear,” Mycroft said from behind the tissues.

Greg knew he was scrutinizing Mycroft, but he was worried about the younger man. Mycroft had seemed out of sorts and sniffly all day.

“I am fine, Gregory,” Mycroft said, responding to the unasked question.

Greg quirked an eyebrow and looked as if he was going to say something, but kept his mouth shut for the moment.

Mycroft’s lips twitched, as if he was going to smile. “A cup of tea wouldn’t go amiss, however.”

“Right,” Greg said, pressing a kiss to Mycroft’s forehead before getting to his feet. “Be back in a tick.”