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This had been the wettest summer London had had in years. The weather wasn't just wet, it was... humid. It was wreaking havoc on the Holmes boys' hair. Of course, Sherlock didn't care much. He cared very little about his appearance most days, and the only person he spent any real time with was their new step brother, John. They came home from Johns rugby matches soaked through and smeared in mud. How Sherlock managed to get mud on him from simply watching was a wonder, but Mycroft didn't think much on the subject.

Thanks to such a match, as well as their parents' work schedules, it was Mycroft standing at the train station. Being the only one at home that day meant that he was the one to pick up Johns cousin, who was to stay with them for the entirety of the summer. The train was late and he could feel the rain soaking through the bottom of his trousers. His carefully straightened and gelled hair was beginning to frizz in the humidity.

Mycroft was unsure what to expect from the boy that would be staying with them. He didn't mind being near John, he was a nice enough boy, though they rarely had much of a real interaction. Johns father, Hamish, had explained that his brother had died over a decade before and left his wife and son alone. The wife had moved away and refused Hamish's offer to help them financially over the years. Now, the boy had turned 16 and she was sending him to stay with them while she went to another continent. All he new was the boy was a year younger than himself, and that his name was Gregory.

He tsked in annoyance as he finally heard the train approaching, 15 minutes late. Not that he had anywhere to be really. His mother had complained at him until he had agreed to cancel his summer plans. She wanted him to enjoy his last summer of high school.

There was a rush of people exiting the train. Most looked too old to be their new housemate. Ignoring an older woman who pushed past him rudely, he scrolled through his emails on his phone as he waited for the platform to clear. A tap on his shoulder made him groan as he turned around, not wanting to have someone ask him for directions again, he didn't work her-

"Hey, you must be Mycroft."

The boy in front of him with the smooth as silk voice looked to have stepped right out of a catalogue. Or a dirty magazine. He was slender through the hips with long legs, but not at all scrawny. Brown hair, damp from the rain, swept over his forehead, hanging just slightly in his brown eyes. He had a crooked smile and less crooked nose, presumably broken once or twice.

Mycroft cleared his throat and held out his hand. "Yes, Mycroft Holmes. You must be Gregory."

Greg shook his hand slowly, smiling just a bit broader. "Just Greg, actually. Not even my mother calls me Gregory."

Mycroft looked him over once more. In a look he could already tell that he and this boy were not going to get along very well. He was much too laidback, and the way he dressed was far too casual. His grey shirt was worn, and his jeans had small holes in them, though that did seem to be a style recently. "Right, well lets try and catch a cab back to the house. Where is your luggage?"

"This is it." He picked up the suitcase by his feet. It couldn't have held more than a dozen articles. Mycroft rolled his eyes and lead them from the station out to the street.

Chapter Text



The ride home was awkward, with Mycroft looking through his phone boredly, and Greg looking out the window.

"So... What do you usually do for fun?" Greg asked, trying to break the ice.

Mycroft didn't look up from his phone. "I'm sure our definitions of 'fun' are drastically different from each others," he muttered.

"Oh, c'mon. I bet you like to let loose every once in awhile, go all out? Drinking? Dancing? A smoke?" When he didn't recieve an answer his eyebrows rose.


"I enjoy reading," Mycroft said tersely.

"Oh yeah, anything good? Anything dirty?" he teased. His smile faded at the glare he got in response. "Okay, so that's a no. You goin' somewhere fancy tonight? You're all dressed up nice."

Mycroft looked down at himself. He was wearing a simple grey vest and trousers set with a white button down. He wasn't even wearing a tie or jacket; this was him at his most casual. But by looking at Greg, it was obvious theyre choices in fashion were very different. "I prefer to dress well," was all he said.

Back at the house Mycroft showed the newcomer to the guest room next to his and showed him around the spacious Holmes residence.

"John and my brother should be home in an hour from the game. You're free to wash up. I'm making tea downstairs as well if you'd like any." He didn't even look up from his phone as he spoke.

"Yeah, sounds good. Uh, thanks. For showin' me around and stuff," Greg said, smiling sheepishly. "This probably wasn't how you wanted to spend your Saturday. If you're not too busy maybe you could show me around the town some more. It could be fun."

"I suppose since everyone else has busy summer schedules I could show you a few places," Mycroft grumbled reluctantly. Spending his summer showing this boy around was not what he had in mind.

"Great. A date then." Greg waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"No. Definitely not." With a scoff he turned around and went down to the kitchen to make some tea.

Greg chuckled to himself as he watched the redhead trot away primly. He was much too easily bothered, and being the little shit he was, Greg would have fun with that.




Dinner that night was louder than usual. Everyone talking, wanting to know things and talk to Greg. Mycroft watched, picking over his vegetables boredly. It annoyed him so much that Gregory was such a source of attention. He practically glowed with energy and charisma. It was disruptive to they're usual quiet dinners when his mother and Hamish were actually home to eat with the boys.

Turns out Gregory's mother was on a vacation to the Bahamas with her new boyfriend, and couldn't leave Gregory home alone all summer without people questioning her parental stability. From what Mycroft had heard, it was in question quite often. Gregory also seemed to be a rugby player like his cousin. Was there nothing wrong with this boy?

Even the next day, just having Gregory tag along on a trip to the grocery caused a ruckus. He was charming and funny to girls who just walked right up to him. It was ridiculous! Could he find no peace with this boy around? And of course he was suave and flirted right back, while Mycroft sat there, feeling like an overcooked potato. He was awkward and cold when he spoke to people, and he wasn't attractive enough that people walked right up to him. This couldn't be envy, could it?

Mycroft envious of this uncouth boy? It was absurd.

Being such a flirt meant that not even the bookstore was safe. While Mycroft was looking for his book Greg was off flirting with a girl who seemed to work there.

She was petite, with mousy brown hair and boring clothes that hung loosely over her. Mycroft had seen her once or twice before, perhaps one of his brothers 'friends'. Lackeys were a better description.

"Molly, Molly Hooper. Hello, Mycroft," she said. Her voice was soft and nervous. Mycroft smiled fakely back at her before turning back to the shelves. Yes, definitely a lackey.

On the way out of the store a short while later, Greg let out a whistle. "Cute girl, huh? Got her number."

Mycroft snorted. "I suppose, if you're into those sorts."

"Oh, so you got a girlfriend?" Greg prodded, bumping his shoulder against Mycroft, watching in amusement as he bulked at the contact.

"Not exactly. I have a female friend I attend social events with, but that is all."

"I see. So you're gay." Greg kept looking forward, waiting for Mycroft to explode. When it didn't come, he turned to look at his face. Mycroft was looking ahead, frowning, but not looking angry.

"No, I wouldn't say that. I don't care much for any type of sexuality, and I've never been keen on experimenting. I am... asexual for all intents and purposes." It was true that he considered himself and aspired to being an asexual, but he did occasionally feel attracted to another person, but only once or twice.

Stopping on his spot on the sidewalk, Greg stared at him. He'd never thought he would get that kind of raw truth from the other boy. A small part of him was proud that Mycroft had confided in him, while another part itched to make him want to experiment. He wanted to see the him squirm. "Well that's no fun. So you've never even tried anything? Not even kissing?"

Mycroft frowned deeper. These questions were getting a bit too personal. "That is none of your business," he said coldly.

Greg just shrugged it off. "Whatever you say, princess."

The sputtering that came from Mycroft was downright hilarious. "Princess?"

"Yeah. You're so prissy and all. Everything's gotta be perfect and pretty, and you like to boss people around. Like a bratty little princess."

"Call me that again and you will find yourself in a terrible position." The look Mycroft gave him was almost scary, if it hadn't been for the blush spreading over his freckled cheeks and up his ears.


At that Mycroft huffed and turned on his heel to storm off.

'Yepp,' Greg thought. 'Definitely a princess.'

Chapter Text

For the next week Gregory insisted on tagging along with Mycroft almost everywhere, or asking to go to the bookstore. Out of all the girls that flocked around Gregory, it surprised him that he would choose to spend time with that Molly girl. She didn't seem much to look at to Mycroft, and she didn't seem to have much personality at first glimpse either.

When Mycroft left Gregory at the bookstore to go see Anthea, he was relieved to have some time away. The other boy's eyes felt so prying and like they were always on him when he wasn't looking.

"I'm telling you, he is the most annoying person I have ever met," he complained.

"Sounds like you're either jealous, or you like him," Anthea said, scrolling through her phone.

"I do NOT like him," he said firmly.

"He's right, you do sound like a girl."

Mycroft frowned, pursing his lips. "Perhaps I am jealous. He is very popular, and though in comparison to myself he isn't much, he is smart by the normal standard. And he is very attractive..."

"You're not convincing me that you don't like him, talking like that," Anthea snickered. "Last summer, do you remember that party we went to?"

"Ugh, you mean that awful university party? I prefer not to think about it."

"Well, seeing as how you were completely smashed, I doubt you have much choice in remembering." She moved to sit beside him on the cafe sofa, eyes still trained on her phone. "After getting tipsy all you did was talk about how you wanted someone to like you, that a physical interaction would be nice. And I agree with drunk you. Maybe a little bump and grind would do you good." She laughed at the horrified look on his face. "Maybe you should try it on yourself first. As your best friend, I am telling you, just try something. Whether or not its with him, by yourself, or with someone else."



The walk home after Mycroft picked up Gregory was awkward. Greg could sense the tension and kept trying to tell bad jokes.

"Listen, I know you don't like me very much. But I think you're pretty cool. And I want to be your friend. We're kinda stuck together for the summer anyway. So, why not be a little friendlier?" Greg asked. Sure, he teased and joked a lot, but he was a nice guy.

"I never said I didn't like you... You are just very different from myself, and its uncomfortable for me..." Mycroft admitted quietly. He disliked talking about his feelings.

He disliked even having feelings to be honest.

"So does everyone make you uncomfortable then? Cause there is no one else like you," Greg chuckled, flashing a coy smile that made heat rise up Mycrofts neck and ears.

"I-" Just as Mycroft began to argue with him, he felt a small droplet of rain hit his face. It was only seconds until it was a complete downpour.

Before he could even groan, Greg grabbed his hand and ran with him. Mycroft could already feel the paper bag of books he was holding getting heavier with water.

Soon they were hiding out in an alley, under the ledge of a building.

"Damn, just when we were getting down to actually talking," Greg chuckled.

They were standing close enough that he could feel Gregory's body heat, the warmth of his breath against his face. He smelled like spearmint, and some kind of spicy body wash or deodorant. It was nice. Mycroft felt ridiculous, with his damp hair curling out of his carefully pushed back style, his soggy clothes sticking to him.

"I'm plain," he blurted out. "I'm smart, but I look so plain. But you're not. You're funny and can talk to people. That's why I feel uncomfortable around you..."

"I don't think you're plain. You're gorgeous. Super smart. I like you. A lot. And underneath it all, I think you like me too, even if I annoy you sometimes." He brushed some of Mycrofts hair off his forehead. "So, I don't know, maybe we should get to know each other."

It was like slow motion. All Mycroft really saw was Gregory's hair in the corner of his vision before soft lips brushed his and electricity shot all the way down to his toes. The gentle pressure against his lips was warm, and uninvasive. On instinct his lips started moving.

The surprised intake of breath from Gregory was enough to jolt him back to reality. Jerking away, Mycrofts face was bright red.

"I... That was... I don't know." As he started to push past Gregory the bottom of his bag ripped out and his books tumbled onto the puddled ground. In a panic, he left the books and ran the rest of the way home.

Greg watched him run out of the alleyway and sighed. "Fuck."

Chapter Text

That night was tense. After arriving home Mycroft had gone upstairs and taken a hot shower to rid himself of the shivers that wouldn't quit. Even after the hot shower he felt something traveling up his spine.

Everything would be fine. They would just pretend that nothing had happened. It was nothing after all. They had simply leaned in a bit too close and collided. With their lips. And so what if Mycroft had forgotten his name for a brief moment? It was nothing...

When Gregory did arrive back at the house it had been over two hours. He was soaked through, sopping wet, and he didn't say a word to the other boy, just went upstairs to dry off.

It wasn't long before John and Sherlock got home. Mycroft shot up from his position on the couch when Greg sat beside him, offering to go make them all some tea, fleeing to the kitchen.

He could feel the taller boy enter the kitchen behind him before he even turned to see Gregory leaning against the counter.

"You left your books before... they're drying against the heater upstairs," Greg said, watching him carefully.

"Thank you," was the only curt reply.

"If you're embarrassed about what happened-"

"Nothing happened," Mycroft hissed, putting the kettle on the stove with a bang. "It was an accident, and it will never be repeated."

Greg felt like he'd been slapped. Nothing? How had that been nothing? How could the way their mouths fit together so perfectly be called an accident? Taking a leap of faith, he decided to keep trying.

Mycroft felt Gregory against him as he stretched to reach the mugs and bring them down. Turning, it was like their bodies fit together like pieces of a puzzle. He could again feel how warm Gregorys body was, and the trembling in his spine came back.

"It didn't feel like nothing. It felt like you liked it. It felt like a kiss," he murmured softly, caging Mycroft in with his hands holding the edge of the counter.

"You call that a kiss?" Maybe some of Gregory's cockiness was rubbing off on him, because he was feeling like it was finally his turn to be the one screwing with the others head. "Your attempt was weak. You just dove in and flailed around, like a child. It wasn't impressive. I barely even remember it now." Their faces were inches apart, and the look in Mycrofts eyes was challenging.

"So, you're saying you don't want to try it again?" Greg asked quietly, nudging their noses together. For a moment it seemed like Mycroft would close the gap and seal their lips.

But instead he just smirked and ducked out of his arms.

"Try what?" He turned away and took the kettle off the stove. "Sugar or cream?" he asked cheerfully.

Greg couldn't believe it. He really didn't think anything was there? "Uhm, cream..."

That was the extent of their conversation for the rest of the day.

Chapter Text

Everything was fine for the next three days. Mycroft no longer felt uncomfortable in his own home. Greg stopped his advances, and the house was peaceful. Of course, the teasing hadn't stopped, but now that he felt more like himself, Mycroft was able to deflect it. Things were more comfortable and he was starting to feel a sense of companionship with the other boy.

It was just after lunch when the doorbell rang. John had just gone to his rugby match and Sherlock to watch, so Mycroft answered the door. He was more than a little surprised to see that girl, Molly something, standing there. She was dressed differently... not as conservative as usual. She was even wearing makeup, no doubt trying to look older, though the effect made her look even younger. Too much blush, smudged lip gloss, shaky eyeliner. And a bright pink bra strap was showing, her shirt hanging a little off one shoulder.

"Molly. What brings you here?" he asked. His brother wasn't home... oh.

"Greg asked me to come over. We had plans," she said, laughing nervously.

Greg was running down the stairs. "Molly. Hey, Molly. I'm here. Lets go out back." He grabbed Molly's hand and dragged her through the house and out into the back garden.

Mycroft watched them, confused. Well, they were friends, so it wasn't all that unusual for her to come over. Going back to the den, he tried to go back to reading his book. But soon he started fidgeting and couldn't concentrate. He wanted to snoop. Going into the kitchen he made tea and made up a tray with biscuits to take out to them.

The Holmes backyard was very spacious, with a wooden porch and rows of rose bushes, and a 10 ft wooden fence around the entirety. Mycroft looked around, confused when they weren't sitting on the patio furniture. He thought he heard something rustling to the side of the house and set the tray on the patio table to investigate.

He immediately wished he hadn't.

The first thing he saw, before processing the entire situation, was Gregorys face. His brown hair hung into his face, eyes closed, mouth open and panting. A quiet moan made Mycroft look at the whole picture. Molly was on her knees in front of Gregory... and he didn't want to see the rest.

Just as he was turning away to run back inside he heard Gregory chuckle. He had opened his eyes and was watching Mycroft now. The smirk was arrogant, biting his lip, his eyes half lidded. The shivers that had been traveling up Mycrofts spine days before were back, and his trousers felt too tight.

The wink was what did it for him though. When he saw the wink he ran into the house, embarrassed that he'd been seen, and back to being uncomfortable.


Locking himself in his room for the rest of the evening, Mycroft didn't know how to handle this situation. He had seen... that! How was he supposed to explain his peeping? Why would the two of them have been doing that anyway? Why did he feel angry that Gregory was with Molly like that? It was none of his concern anyway.

Dinner was the only time he came out of his room. His mother and Johns father were home for dinner so they all sat down and ate together. Mycroft was hyper aware of Gregory sitting across from him, staring. He refused to look up.

When his mother asked what he had done all day, he lied and said he had gone out with some friends. Why did he feel the need to lie to his own mother? Its not like she knew what he'd seen, or what Gregory had done.

Afterwards he went back upstairs to shower and to bed, but was caught in the hallway.

"Hey, princess. Have fun with your friends today?" Greg asked, voice low and he was leaning against Mycrofts bedroom door, blocking his path.

"Please don't. I don't want to talk about what I saw you doing."

"Don't be mad. I swear it wasn't what it looked like. It wasn't serious."

"Why would I be mad? Its none of my business what you and your girlfriend-"

"Shes not my girlfriend! We're not like that. I swear we're just friends. It was an idea. She asked me. She was nervous, she'd never even kissed anyone before, and I was said it was okay... It was just a casual thing, I promise."

Mycrofts cheeks blazed in embarrassment. "So, what? It was some kind of practice or something?"

"Yeah, I know its stupid. But we're just friends."

"Why did you... look at me?" he asked softly.

"I... you were there and I was surprised. I didn't want to embarrass Molly."

"Oh. I see." He let out a relieved breath. "Well, I wont tell anyone."

Gregory laughed. "I didn't think you would, but that's not what I was worried about. I wanted to say, its okay. I saw the way you looked at me when you saw us... Are you sure nothing happened before?"

It felt like he couldn't breathe. He hadn't looked at him differently, he had just seen. He moved past him into his room. "Goodnight, Gregory."

"Its Greg..." he was cut off by the door being shut.

Chapter Text

All night long Mycroft thought about their conversation. He wasn't sure if Gregory was lying, or if what he'd done was considered morally acceptable. Because, after all, Gregory was a stranger. He was Johns cousin, but Mycroft barely knew him. Even with these odd inclinations for him.

But the fact of the matter was that he couldn't get the feel of his lips off his mind. It was distracting.

In the morning he was exhausted, and still worrying about what to do. When he came downstairs Gregory looked just as tired as he was.

"Morning, princess. Sleep well?" Greg teased, though his voice betrayed his own exhaustion.

"About as well as you, it seems." Sitting across from him, he sipped on a mug of tea that John had poured for him before leaving the kitchen. Mycroft had to admit, he was fond of his new step brother. He was quite helpful at times.

"So, did you think about it? About what happened? Cause your'e killin' me here, princess."

"Killing you? I have no idea what you mean," Mycroft feigned ignorance, picking at a biscuit on the table.

Greg sighed heavily. "I need you to tell me the truth. I'm being serious now. Are you just playing with me? Do you even-"

Sherlock walked into the kitchen, effectively shutting Gregory up. Mycroft was staring into his mug. Were they really having this conversation? Its ridiculous. This was not a conversation he should ever have. He was Mycroft. He was stiff, unemotional, unliked, and that was just his personality, his appearance was even worse. He was chubby with kinky copper hair and freckles everywhere. And here he was thinking that Gregory was perfect. Had he gone insane? A week ago everything he did had annoyed him. Last week he thought Greg was gangly, too thin, hair too long, too much of a show off, and now he saw him as slim and attractive, hair styled in just the right way around his face, funny and endearing...

He was not equipped to talk about his 'feelings'. He barely felt equipped to have feelings. So, while Greg was distracted, he tried to flee again.

Greg saw him and glared. "We'll talk later, princess," he called, smirking a little when he saw him flinch and walk faster.




Somehow Mycroft managed to avoid Greg all day long. He left the house for the day, and slipped back into the house while everyone was eating dinner, sneaking up to his room. He had gone to see Anthea again, who of course kept insisting on the worst possible ideas. She kept telling him to 'experiment'. He was beginning to wonder if he needed a new best friend.

Changing into his sleep clothes, Mycroft turned on his laptop and got into bed. It couldnt help to at least try. Just to prove it wouldn't work.


And honestly, intimacy between men looked slightly terrifying. He couldn't stop looking though. It wasn't hard to find websites with explicit videos. And forums. He found a chat room saying to start out with 'softcore' videos. Most consisted of a lot of kissing and heavy petting, which he grudgingly admitted was enjoyable. But the more links he clicked on the more intense they got. His underwear began to feel tight after about half an hour of videos.

Shifting uncomfortably, he tugged at his pants to try and relieve some of the pressure. Its not that he didn't know what to do, but even in the dark he could feel his face heat up at the idea of touching himself like that. But the longer he waited the more tempted he was.

He had been watching videos, getting slowly more intense, for almost an hour when it became too much and he decided that trying didn't seem like such a terrible idea. After all, most healthy boys his age seemed to do it quite often, so perhaps it wasn't all that awful. Tugging his pajama bottoms and pants down, he peeked down at himself. It was dark in the room, but his eyes were adjusted enough with the minimal moon light to be able to see himself. His cock looked slightly bigger than usual, and was standing at attention like the toy soldiers he played with as a child.

Now, other than the regular adjustments, washing, and using the restroom, Mycroft had never touched himself in that area. It was like any other appendage to him, nothing overly special, so when he began to palm gently at it, he was caught completely off guard by the noise he made. It was breathy and sexual, and unlike any noise he had ever made before. Biting his lip, he carefully wrapped his hand around himself and started sliding it up and down.

It was bliss. It was still awkward, but damn, it felt amazing. He moved to sit up a little more and grabbed his pillow to stifle his moans.

After that first initial feeling he decided that 'experimenting' was the best idea ever, so he began to take notes in his head. Moving his hand fast was nice, but for now he liked it a little slower than in comparison to how quickly the men on the videos had gone. Soon he started to feel a little wet, and tried swiping his thumb over the head of his cock. His breath hitched as he spasmed a little.

Bending his knees and bracing his feet on the bed, he worked up the courage to explore more. His left hand moved from gripping his pillow to run up his thigh. He wasn't quite ready for anything too invasive, but he could at least try and see if he liked it. Moving lower and lower, his fingers rubbed softly on the outside of his hole.

He jolted a little, unsure if he liked it or not, but kept his right hand at its steady pace. He was clean down there, he washed very meticulously every day. Relaxing his body, he rubbed two fingers against his hole, pressing lightly. It did start to feel good soon after, so he kept at it.

Mycrofts mind started to leave him it felt so good, but he didn't like that. He tried hard to concentrate on what he was doing, but that proved even worse when he idly wondered if Gregory did these things to himself. Which was ridiculous, seeing as he had caught the boy only two days before, literally with his pants down. Of course he touched himself... His cock pulsed in his hand at the mental image he drew up, and he stopped moving his hands. Was he really turned on by the thought of the other boy? He had spent so much time trying to avoid his thoughts on him, that now he wasn't sure what to think.

In his mind he brought up the image of Gregory with his head back, eyes closed, moaning softly, but imagined Gregory touching himself instead of Molly being there.

His grip tightened and sped up at the idea, whimpering quietly. Turning his head to the side, he smothered his noises into his pillow. His hand kept moving faster, he could feel pleasure pooling in his stomach with every touch.

Lost in his imagination, he didn't even hear the click of the door opening until the hall light flooded his bedroom.

Chapter Text

All day Greg had waited to talk to Mycroft. After he had seen him briefly in the kitchen that morning he had tried to think of what to say to him. He wasn't great with this kind of thing.

Sure, he could flirt, he could charm the pants right off almost anyone, but this he was bad at. He really, really liked Mycroft. It had started out as flirting just to annoy him, then had turned into seeing if he could get him to flirt back, but that dorky little redhead had made him like him. His slicked back hair was dumb, but he somehow pulled it off. Freckles hadn't been cute to him before. When he blushed it was sinful. That moody look and the way he huffed when he was annoyed. And he was soft. His skin was pale and soft, just the right side of slightly plump when you looked at his backside and thighs. There were pictures in the den of him as a child, pudgey and brooding even when he was small, and then getting slimmer over the last two or so years as he got taller. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't gone through Mrs. Holmes photo album, cooing to himself at how adorable Mycroft was.

But no matter how he tried, he couldn't seem to actually get to talking to the older boy about it.

When he had kissed those pouty lips, it was like his mind had exploded with Mycroft. It was all he was able to think about. But he was being avoided. Greg had never had someone avoid him that he actually wanted to be near.

So when Mycroft didn't even show up to dinner, Greg had become moody. All he wanted was a chance to talk to him, to convince him he wasn't so bad. And to try and kiss him again. So, when Mrs. Holmes asked him to see if Mycroft had come home yet, she had brought home a cake that was his favorite, and he went to check, he hadn't thought he would actually find Mycroft. Let alone like this.

Of course when he opened the door to the boys bedroom the light would fall right on redhead. And, of course he would be greeted with the sight of a half naked, jerking off Mycroft, able to see everything from this angle. And- fuck, was he fingering himself?

When Mycroft realized Greg was in his doorway, his thighs snapped closed, and there was that goddamn blush, spreading over his neck and ears and cheeks, looking mortified.

His brain short circuited and he closed the door again. He tried to regain focus and called out to Mrs. Holmes that Mycroft didn't feel well and that neither of them wanted any cake before opening the door again and turning on the light. In the moments the door had been closed, Mycroft had pulled his blankets up to cover himself, staring at him, face redder than a tomatoe.

Closing the door, this time with himself inside the room, Greg turned the lock.

"Don't you know to lock the door when you jerk off?" He was supposed to sound teasing, or even matter of fact, but it came out sounding like he had just ran a marathon. And honestly, he was winded by the sight he had just seen. Not to mention the chub he'd been sporting since he opened the door.

"I-I usually don't... do this..." Mycrofts voice cracked and stuttered, and it shouldn't have been cute, but it was.

Swallowing, Greg tried to smile, but it felt weird on his face. "Want any help?"

He didn't wait for an answer though before he was siting at the edge of the bed, dragging Mycroft forward by his sleep shirt and kissing him breathless. This time he didn't pull away.

Mycroft whined softly into the kiss, fidgeting. All he had wanted to do was finish himself off, but now he didn't want to stop, especially if it meant Gregory was going to keep kissing him like this. He cried out softly when the brunettes hand snaked down to pet inside his thigh, above the blanket. His hips rocked on their own accord to try and get his hand on his cock.

When Greg pulled away he could see how blissed out Mycroft was, his eyes hazy, mouth open and whimpering, lips pouty and wet from their kiss. "Want me to help you?" he murmured, smiling proudly when he nodded his head. He palmed him through the blanket lazily as he kicked off his shoes and climbed up onto the bed beside him, kissing along his jaw and neck, sucking gently just below ear.

The sounds the redhead made should have been illegal, Greg was already hard enough to drill a diamond. "Mind if I take my pants off to, princess?" he asked. He waited till Mycroft nodded it was okay before practically tearing off his jeans. The front of his boxers were already wet with precum. It was embarrassing how easy it was to get off without even being touched. He had done things with other people before, mostly girls, but he had never gotten this excited this fast. He was worried he was going to cream his pants.

Before he took off his boxers he wanted to see Mycroft again. Pulling down the blanket, he stared. The tip of Mycrofts cock was red and slick with precum, jutting up and laying against his smooth tummy, leaking and making the soft skin there wet as well. Gregs own cock throbbed at the sight

"You've got the prettiest prick I've ever seen, princess," he murmured in his ear. "So cute and begging for attention." Wrapping his hand around it, he slowly tugged up and down, reveling in the way Mycroft practically sobbed with need, hands twisted in his sheets.

"Bet you were thinkin' about me when you were touchin' yourself, weren't you? Thinkin' of how my hands would feel on you, maybe even my mouth. I'll do it too. I'll touch you wherever you want, lick you all over. Or maybe you wanted to know how I taste. Maybe you wanted to be the one on their knees, sucking me off in broad daylight, where anyone could find us." Mycroft moaned and bucked into his hand.

Gregs other hand reached down to jerk himself off as he kissed Mycrofts neck, sucking and nibbling, leaving small purple marks just below his collar.

"Gr-Gregory," he breathed, bucking into his hand desperately. Mycroft was so so close, every little touch sent fire through his veins and pleasure straight up his cock.

"You ready to come? I want you to come, you're the sexiest thing I've ever laid my eyes on," Greg whispered, coaxing him to finish.

When Mycroft came he wasn't sure what sort of noise he made, but he was sure it was loud. His vision whited out and he whole body shook with pleasure, and Greg just kept moving his hand, wringing every last drop out of him, until he was crying from how sensitive it was. There was come splattered all over the stomach of Mycrofts sleep shirt, but he was to exhausted to care. Greg was still fisting his own dick, and it didn't take more than a few moments before he was coming into his hand, panting and burying his nose in the crook of the redheads neck, wiping his hands off on his own boxers.

They sat like that for a good five minutes before Mycroft shivered and tried to cover himself in embarrassment. Of course now his brain decided to work again, this time going a mile a minute. What had just happened? That was insane. Only now, Greg wasn't worried anymore. He knew Mycroft had liked it, liked him, and he grinned to himself in triumph.

Chapter Text

You know those first few seconds of bliss when you first wake up and stretch and everything is perfect? And then reality comes back to you. When Mycroft woke up he realized immediately that his shirt was gone, and he remembered it had been thrown into the hamper because it was a mess, before Gregory had kissed him and left, going to the guest bedroom he slept in, which in retrospect was a little disappointing. Not that 'cuddling' was his thing, but maybe it was something he wouldn't have minded trying...

Getting up, he went to the bathroom and showered, going through the night before in his head. It was nice. It was more than nice truthfully. But, he knew Gregory's type. He had seen him with Molly Hooper. Gregory Lestrade liked 'casual sex'. So this would be fun, for however long it lasted. Whether it was just last night or maybe just the summer. And Mycroft was okay with that. When school started back up he would need to focus, and a long distance relationship seemed like it would be a hassle, so something casual and fun was good. His mother had told him that he should try to have fun this summer.

On his way back to his room he caught Gregory leaving the guest bedroom. "Good morning. Sleep well?" he tried to tease.

Gregs face looked shocked when he saw him. "Oh, hey. Uhm, yeah. It was great. Wha-what about you?"

"Fine. I slept quite well. Bathroom's all yours."

Greg watched Mycroft walk back to his bedroom, palms sweaty, heart racing, mind blank. He didn't know what was happening to him. After he had left Mycrofts room the night before, he hadn't been able to sleep. He had been going over the events until dawn. He just couldn't believe it, he had gotten to do that with that stuck up little redhead. That stuck up little redhead that he adored.

Of course it had started out as teasing and a little flirting for fun, but the last few days it was like his body went crazy every time he saw him. His tongue felt heavy and bloated in his mouth, the hair on the back of his neck prickled, and now, since last night, all the blood went rushing straight to his groin. He had no clue what had come over him. He wanted to lock them in a bedroom and spend the whole day driving Mycroft insane with just his mouth.

Greg had liked people before, both boys and girls. He had dated quite a bit as well, but they never seemed to last. His longest relationship had been two months and he had found out the girl had been cheating on him the whole time. Even then, he had never liked anyone quite as much as he did Mycroft. It wasn't just sexual either. He wanted to talk about things, know about his childhood, meet his friends. He wanted to be Mycrofts boyfriend.

It wasn't until after lunch that they were alone in the house again. Greg was trying to think of a way to bring up the night before. He was confused that Mycroft was acting like nothing had happened. He was sitting on the couch, reading a book, practically ignoring him.

"Hey, princess, whatchya doin?" he asked, flopping down beside Mycroft on the sofa. The older boy looked up at him, and Greg was disappointed when Mycroft didn't react.

"Its obvious that I'm reading," he said, turning the page to keep reading. Why did he feel the need to ask such frivolous questions that he already knew the answers to?

"You wanna do something fun?"

Mycroft sighed and set down the book, putting a marker in it to keep his place. "Like what?"

"I dunno. Wanna makeout?" the brunette teased, leaning in and bumping their shoulders.

"Oh. Alright." Mycroft hesitated a moment before he leaned in and sealed their lips together. It was a little awkward and uncoordinated, but it made Gregs heart beat faster anyway. Mycrofts lips were soft and warm and he nipped lightly, enjoying the cute little gasps, sweeping his tongue inside. The redhead tasted like cinnamon sugar and vanilla.

Putting his hands on Mycrofts hips, Greg pulled him closer into his lap, so Mycroft was straddling him. "You want me to sit in your lap?" He looked unsure of himself.

"Yeah, its hot. Especially when you wiggle." He nosed along the redheads jaw, kissing his pulse. He could see the blush creeping up his neck and chuckled. "Still nervous, even after last night?"

Mycroft gave him a defiant look and ground his ass down into his lap. "I'm not nervous. Just surprised you haven't gone off yet. Sure were quick last night."

Laughing, Gregs hands slid up under Mycrofts shirt. He looked so cute in a white button up with a soft grey sweater over it. His hands brushed over the softest skin he had ever felt, petting up his abdomen and sides. "You're softer than a girl. You really are my little princess."

"Shut up," Mycroft groaned, pulling him up for another kiss. He really hated that nickname. Moaning, Gregs hands crept back down to undo both of their pants, and then to lead Mycroft as they rocked against each other.

It wasn't long before they were rocking into each other, moaning into the kiss. Greg had pushed their pants down enough to grip both of them in one hand, wasting no time in stroking them. "Come on, baby. Lemme see that face," Greg whispered, trying to get the other to look at him.

Mycrofts was beautiful, face flushed, his lips swollen, and his eyes were hazy again. He was panting, trying to thrust into Gregs hand. He felt too warm, but it was good. Every roll of his hips made his spine tingle, and he couldn't get enough. "More..."

Greg chuckled a little before adjusting them so Mycroft was on his back on the couch, shirt rucked up around his neck to show creamy skin. He leant down and began sucking little marks anywhere he could reach as his hand sped up. Mycroft was a boneless, panting mess by now, gripping the couch cushions with white knuckles, so strung out on the pleasure he could barely do more than whine.

After several Mycroft finally climaxed his back arched up off the sofa, keening long and loud, hips thrusting shallowly. When his eyes opened they were wet. That's what did Greg in. The redhead, laying limp as he tried to catch his breath, tears in his eyes, covered in hickeys and cum. Groaning, he rocked a few more times before he released their spent members.

Sitting up, Greg admired his handiwork. "You look fucking amazing," he whispered, splaying his fingers through their cum, grinning when Mycroft shivered.


"So I guess this means last night wasn't a one time thing then?" Mycroft tried to ask casually after they had wiped themselves clean and were tucked back into their clothes. He purposefully didn't look at Greg who was sprawled lazily next to him, pretending to be more interested in a loose thread on the sleeve instead.

"What? Of course not. How could I be satisfied with just once?" Greg leaned up and kissed the side and back of his neck. When Mycroft still seemed a little tense, he put his arm around him. "Hey. This isn't just for fun. It is fun, don't get me wrong. But I like you. I like you a lot."

"You like me?" He grinned, kissing his cheek. "I suppose I also feel strongly about you."

"Good. Now get over here." He pulled him over and held him, relaxing on the sofa.

Mycroft ended up deciding that cuddling was in fact enjoyable.

Chapter Text

Thanks to everyones schedules, the boys had the house to themselves most days. It felt surreal somedays, like it was only the two of them. They were eager to keep exploring each others bodies, even with Mycrofts embarrassment over his own body. But boy, did he enjoy Gregs. Especially his mouth. Kissing was by far Mycrofts favorite passtime. Especially when Gregory's mouth moved lower and lower...

They were all hands and mouths, desperately grabbing at each other. It was worst when people were around though. Panting and sloppy kisses in the kitchen cupboard when Mrs.Holmes asked them to fetch something, grinding and heavy petting in the bathroom stall of a cafe, teeth marks in Gregs shoulder to keep quiet against the contemporary fiction shelf at the library.

They still had yet to jump into anything too... invasive though. Neither had brought it up, but truthfully Greg was more nervous about it than Mycroft was. Greg had less experience than he liked having people believe. He had never gone that far with another guy before. He was worried he would move the wrong way or that Mycroft wouldn't enjoy it.

It was about 11pm one night. Everyone else had turned in early with a thunderstorm rolling outside. They were sitting in front of the fireplace in the den, surrounded by pillows from the couch, Mycroft straddling Gregs lap, dissheveled and kissing lazily. His hair had come out of its carefully styled state, curling around his ears and nape.

"You're so beautiful, princess," Greg murmurs against his throat, nipping gently just to hear Mycrofts soft keening, fingers gripping at the back of his shirt.

"Don't call me that." It was supposed to sound authoritative, but came out more breathless. His hips rocked forward, brushing their erections together. "Gregory... take them off."

It was a little awkward, some shuffling, before both their pants were off, shirts thrown to the corner of the room. Neither of them had really had the chance to see the other completely naked before, and Greg took the time to really look. Mycroft was laid out on the pillows now, all pale skin, freckled in the cutest places, nipples hard and pink, erection dark and leaking against his stomach, creamy colored thighs spread. His mouth watered at the sight.

He started by Mycrofts right knee, leaving wet opened mouth kisses along his soft thigh. "The things I want to do to you... Use my mouth to make you squirm, leave you panting and begging me for more." He looked up, expecting some sort of snarky comeback, but instead saw the look of pleasure on the redheads face. Teary eyes, pouty swollen lips, flushed cheeks. His hair stuck to his temples, damp with sweat. He was trembling, staring down at Greg, and the sight was almost enough to send him over the edge. Almost.

"Can I?" he asked softly, running his thumb close to Mycrofts entrance, but not touching. Mycroft made a soft noise and nodded.

Reaching out for the lotion he had found in the upstairs bathroom, he poured it onto his fingers, gently running them up his thighs and brushing two along his hole. "You know, that first night, when I walked in on you touching yourself, I thought you were fingering yourself. It got me so hard, the idea of you fucking yourself on those delicate fingers, wishing you had something bigger inside you." He kept kissing up his thighs and hip, to the base of his cock. "Maybe even thinking of me, bending you over, fucking you hard and fast." Mycroft had to turn his head and bite the pillow beside him to stop from moaning too loudly. He almost kicked when he felt Gregs mouth close over the head of his cock, at the same time a finger slipped in.

It was an odd feeling, but not uncomfortable. His hand snaked down to grip Gregs hair as he mouthed at his erection. A second finger slid in and the inside of his head turned to static, his hip held down by the brunettes other hand. He could feel them pushing in and out, curling and finally pushing against a spot that made him see white.

Greg grinned before sucking him back into his mouth, fingers continuously petting over that little nerve bundle. It didn't take long before Mycroft was batting at him, trying to get him off. Instead, he swallowed around the redhead until he felt him spasm, and salty warmth filled his mouth.

Pulling back, he swallowed and sat up, looking down at Mycroft, panting and boneless, bottom lip puffy from biting. He began to move away to take care of himself, but a pale leg hooked over his hip, pulling him closer.

"Don't you want to do those awful things to me? You were quite creative, its almost as if you've thought about doing them to me yourself," he murmured. "Don't you want to push inside me, make me yours? Take me, hard and fast?" His hands pulled him down by his shoulders, ankles hooking behind his knees to keep him there.

Greg swallowed thickly.




Mycroft and Greg lay in a heap on the floor, trying to catch their breath.

"That was... wow," Greg panted.

"Mmm yes, how eloquent of you," Mycroft chuckled, stretching a little with a pleased sigh.

"You know, I'm glad you ended up giving in to me. I don't think I could've handled the cold shoulder all summer." His fingers skimmed over the redheads soft, flushed skin.

"I'm just as surprised, trust me." Mycroft didn't like where his thoughts were wandering at Gregs words. Sitting up, he started pulling his clothes back on. "Come on, we'd better go on to bed." He threw a smile over his shoulder at the brunette. "Maybe you can even talk your way into my bed for the night," he teased.

"Well, I am quite good with my mouth," Greg grinned back.

Chapter Text

The summer was going by so quickly, and already half over. In three weeks it would be time to start school again... And Gregory lived in Wales.

Mycroft was trying not to show how upset this made him. He didn't want to ruin what time they had left by moping about. He still didn't even know what day Gregory was scheduled to leave. Instead, he busied himself with outings to cafés and parks, even attended one of Johns rugby matches, much to Sherlocks dismay. He ignored the two of them the entire match, which was fine with Mycroft, since Gregory had a tendency to try and hold his hand in public and sneak kisses.

They were in Mycrofts room one evening, Greg on the bed, flipping through a magazine boredly, while Mycroft was at his desk, his hair curly from the shower he'd taken, now subtly checking train departures for the next few weeks to try and gauge their time left. With a huff, Greg tossed the magazine aside and flopped onto his back, one arm hanging over the end of the bed, the other across his abdomen where his shirt had drifted up, his loose jeans drifting low.

"Hey," he said softly, getting the redheads attention. "You alright, princess? You've been distant the last few days."

He smiled softly back to try and ease the worry from his brow. "Yes, I'm fine. You are just very distracting, in case you didn't already know." He moved from his seat at the desk and sat beside Gregory's hip, looking down at him. His hand moved to idly play piano notes over the others stomach.

"Oh, I knew," Greg chuckled, looking up with half lidded eyes. "On the way home earlier though, you looked sad."

The older boy cringed internally. Gregory was becoming much more receptive to his moods, and Mycroft was having a harder time hiding them. All of his defenses dropped around the gorgeous brunette and he melted whenever those eyes were on him. "No reason to be sad, other than having to wait all afternoon to kiss you again," he lied, leaning down and kissing him softly.

But Greg pulled away. "Are you sure? I didn't do anything wrong?"

"Of course not. Don't be ridiculous."

He could feel Mycroft start to bristle and decided to table the conversation for later. "Good, because I'm about to do so many 'wrong' things to you." He was about to sit up when he felt the others hand gently but firmly press down.

"Actually, I'd rather do terrible things to you right now." He smirked and lent down again, kissing him deeply, their tongues sliding together languidly. It wasn't long until he'd all but stolen the breath right out of Greg's lungs before pulling up and beginning to undress them both. Glancing up, he checked that he had indeed locked the door when they'd come in. Mycroft had learned his lesson about locked doors. He pulled off the younger boys tee shirt and unbuttoned his jeans, pulling them down just enough to expose him, before standing and stripping himself completely naked.

"My god, you are so beautiful," Greg whispered as he looked at the expanse of pale skin, speckled here and there with freckles, like kisses from angels. There were a few fading bruises on both of their chests from fevered bites and he made a mental note to make more. His little princess made the sweetest noises when he worried those spots with his teeth and tongue.

"Flattery will get you everywhere," Mycroft said wryly as he moved back onto the bed, straddling Gregory's denim covered legs and leaning forward, his breath ghosting over abdomen, and the soft head of his member, making it twitch. "I don't think I'll ever get used to this. The way you make me feel. I feel like my body has been high jacked, someone else is driving it, but I'm the one who gets to feel every little touch and kiss..." He swallowed, starting to feel over emotional, and tried to hide it by licking the tip of the other boy.

Greg was a bit surprised. Mycroft hadn't really done this yet, and honestly he figured the other boy would be too grossed out by it to give him head. Not that he wasn't all for it. Mycroft had sucked on his fingers the other day while they were fooling around behind the duck pond area at the park, and it had left Greg lightheaded and at attention for hours afterward. He let out a soft moan when those puffy lips closed around the head and began to suck gentle kisses on him. Their hands found each other's and laced their fingers as Mycroft got bolder and started to bob his head, sucking a bit harder.

It didn't take long until Greg was breathless again, panting, at full attention, leaking precome onto his stomach as Mycroft gazed down at him with hazy, lust filled eyes, just as excited. He squirmed a little before scooting up and straddling his hips. Greg's cock nestled right against his hole and he rocked gently up just to relieve some of the pressure.

"You know, earlier I took a much longer shower," Mycroft whispered, swallowing thickly. "Sherlock complained, but do you want to know what I was doing in there for so long?" He was now rocking steadily back. "I bought some lube the other day at the drug store. I was testing it out. Wanted to know just how many fingers I could fit inside myself." He watched as Gregory's pupils dilated and felt his cock jump. He knew how much the other enjoyed hearing him talk like that, and imagining him doing things to himself. "Surprisingly, more than I thought I could. But it wasn't enough, Gregory. Without you it's never enough. It's just not as satisfying. And it's been almost an hour, but I feel so loose." He leaned down and kissed his ear, whispering. "Will you fill me?"

It was all a blur for Greg. He could hear everything crystal clear, feel Mycrofts hand move him, and then he was watching as he sank down onto his cock. It was gorgeous. It made his mind go blank as the redhead gasped and started to fuck himself onto his dick, holding his shoulders down to the bed, moaning and panting. Greg couldn't dream this shit up if he'd tried.

After several moments of stunned adoration though, he snapped out of it. Moving his hips, he began to thrust up, turning those quiet moans into little cries of ecstasy. He sat up and wrapped his arm around the other, his mouth kissing and biting at the others collarbone, while his other arm supported them behind him so he could keep thrusting.

"Oh, fuck," Mycroft whispered brokenly. "Please, harder."

"Oh? It's not very regal for a princess to beg," Greg teased.

"Well, it's not very proper to fuck a 'princess' in the ass, is it?" Mycroft growled.

Greg laughed in surprise and moved them off the bed down to the floor, this time laying Mycroft on his back. They'd learned the hard way that any strenuous work should not be done on the bed after John heard the mattress creaking the other day and came to investigate. Luckily they hadn't been caught. "I guess you're right, princess. But how can I stop when you make those delicious noises when I fuck you just hard enough?" He kissed him hard to muffle the noises as he began to drill into him mercilessly.

Soon, Mycroft was a hot mess beneath him, droplets of sweat forming, marked chest heaving, thick milky thighs spread wide, lips swollen from biting them. His cock was straining up, begging for attention, but Greg kept batting his hands away from taking care of himself. "Not yet. Talk to me more."

"Y-you fuck me so perfectly. You feel so go- ah -good! I can't live without you," he whispered, tears in his eyes again, feeling overwhelmed both physically and emotionally. "I don't ever want to touch anyone else. Fuck! You're perfect. I want you to come on me- ah! I-I want to taste you, please let me! I want to be your princess, you can do whatever you want-" The pressure was too much, he felt himself tighten around Greg's cock as he came all over himself.

Groaning, Greg thrust through the tight spasms before pulling out and coming on Mycroft as well, so hard it went up to his chest and neck, the pearly beads sliding into his collarbone. They both panted as they settled from their orgasms and Greg began to kiss and lick his chest, biting a nipple softly, licking up some come before kissing the older boy, both moaning as the kiss felt like it went on for ages.

"So.. I can do whatever I want? Keep you forever? Keep you as my princess?" Greg murmured, nibbling at his lip. Their stomachs were sliding together, making the sticky mess between them spread.

Mycroft still felt overwhelmed and couldn't stop, couldn't think about anything else, and it just came out.

"I love you."

Chapter Text

Everything was silent in the Holmes resident other than the soft sound of rain pitter patting against windows. Most rooms were dark, except the hallway lamp Mrs. Holmes left on at night, and Mycrofts room. Everyone else was no doubt asleep, in bed, but he and Gregory Lestrade were wide awake, laying in a naked pile of limbs, trying to catch their breath.

Gregory was staring at him in astonishment, and his brain just could not register why he had said that aloud. Why, when he was with the brunette, did his mind always halt? Only he could cause Mycrofts racing mind to go blank, make him blurt out things he wasn't ready for. He might have just as well proposed for gods sake!

"I love you," Greg whispered back, brushing some curls away and kissing his forehead.

Mycroft sat up, pushing Greg away from him gently, frowning. "How can you say that so easily?"
"Because I do. You make my heart race when you smile, I'm always thinking about you, my palms sweat when you look at me. You're the only person I've felt like this with." He watched Mycrofts ears turn red as he got up and cleaned himself off, swaying a little and refusing to meet his eyes as he got dressed. "And I know you feel the same, even before you said it."

"How could you know? I didn't even know you a month ago. And in less than a month you'll...." He stopped, froze. He didn't want to talk about that. Why did he always slip up in front of him?

"I'll leave," Greg finished solemnly. "Is that what this is about? Me going home? We can write letters, visit, it'll be fine-"

"You haven't even told me what day you're leaving. How am I supposed to prepare myself?"

Greg got up and pulled his shirt on, sitting on the edge of the mattress. "I don't know yet. My mom, she gave me money for the train, but she's not always reliable. She was supposed to call and check in every few days, but I haven't heard from her since she left. We've got two weeks left, I don't want to spend it thinking about how it will be when I'm gone."

Mycroft sighed and sat beside him, head resting on his shoulder. "You're right. This time. I just... I've never gotten so close to anyone before."

"You don't say?" Greg teased, earning himself a glare. "C'mon, let's try and get some sleep. We'll worry more in the morning."




Mycroft was in dismay that the next week flew by in a blur. He tried to hold on to every moment, because he knew that when Gregory left... It would be over. The other boy was so optimistic about it, saying that they'd write and visit, but Mycroft couldn't handle that. He was already starting to close himself off again so it would hurt less. He would go back to his solitude, focus solely on his studies, being awkward and cold with everyone around him.

Greg's mother called him that week. The conversation didn't last long before she spoke to Johns father. Greg was sitting at the kitchen island, his face a mixture of emotions. He couldn't figure out if he should be happy or not. Apparently, his mother in her infinite wisdom, decided to marry her new boyfriend on their vacation. The man was an airplane pilot and could provide for them, but he and Greg did not see eye to eye, about anything. The man wanted to send him to military school, in America. ' To build character' he'd said.

But his mother knew that with how the two fought, it wouldn't be a smart idea to keep them under the same roof. Now, Greg loved his mother, even when she was flighty and put herself first, she was still his mother.

"Well, Olivia, I'm just surprised. You've always turned down my help before. But you know I'm always here for you and Greg.... Yes, I will have to ask my wife, but she loves having a full house... of course, but don't you want to tell him yourself?... I see... Well we can talk logistics later... alright, we'll speak more tomorrow. Goodbye, Olive."

Greg was watching him intently when he hung up the phone. "She's sending me away, isn't she?"

"Well, not exactly. We're still going to talk about it, but seeing as you've already began to adjust here, and we have the room... if you'd like, you can stay with us," Hamish said, smiling tentitively. He watched the smile that spread across Greg's face, and his heart clenched when he hugged him tightly. Hamish missed his brother William dearly, and when his nephew smiled, he looked just like him when they were children. Clearing his throat he pulled back and clapped the boy on the shoulder. "Alright, well go on. I need to call the misus and tell her."

"Thank you, uncle Hamish." Greg sprinted out of the kitchen to find Mycroft. Instead, he found John in his and Sherlocks shared bedroom, cleaning his rugby uniform.

"So, aunt Olive is leaving you here?" he asked when Greg came and say beside him.

"Well, maybe. I dunno, I like it here, and I'd get to hang out with my little cousin more," he teased, ruffling Johns sandy hair. John laughed and shoved him away playfully.

"Idiot, I'm only six months younger than you. And we both know why you really want to stay."

"Oh, and what's that?"

John gave him a pointed look and put down his helmet. "You're not exactly subtle. And we might not be as smart as the Holmes, but I saw it before Sherlock even figured it out. You are completely smitten with Mycroft."

Greg, for the first time John had ever seen, blushed bright enough to signal traffic. "W-what? No, we're just friendly."

" 'Friendly' is talking about books or shows you both like, not holding hands and shagging in the upstairs bathroom. I know the difference," John laughed.

"Oh, and what about you and Sherlock? You two trail after each other, and maybe no one else has paid any mind, but you don't get muddy from just watching rugby, unless you've been touching an already dirty player," Greg shot back, defensive.

The blonde just shrugged. "Yeah. But you're the one that was about to leave. He and Sherlock went to the bookstore, when they get back you'd best tell him you're staying if you don't want the cold shoulder anymore."

"Wow, you sure are wise for such a young kid," Greg teased.

"Shut it," John snorted, going back to cleaning his gear.



Everyone gathered for dinner that night, Mrs. Holmes having promised a cake for desert. Greg sat across from Mycroft, smiling, and only got a glance in response. They'd practically fallen back into the awkward cold fish routine they'd developed when he'd first come to stay.

"So, Gregs mother called this morning and we have some news," Mrs. Holmes announced, smiling at her husband. Mycrofts gaze narrowed while feigning boredom. "She got married on her trip, and due to the busy nature of her new husband's job, she decided it would probably be better for Gregory to stay with us through the rest of his schooling. We're going to turn the guest room into his bedroom, and enroll him at your school."

Mycroft turned to look at him in surprise while everyone else spoke up, with plans and Sherlock welcoming him to stay.

Everyone was politely happy and made plans for uniform shopping, sending movers to get Gregory's things from home, while Mycroft was still trying to imagine it. They would attend the same school? Gregory could live with them... He wasn't sure if that made him happy... Or if he was now dreading it.

The last few days all he could think about was how hard it would be to say goodbye, that he didn't want Gregory to leave, and trying to keep in contact would just remind him how far away he was. Maybe that was a selfish way of thinking, but it hurt his chest knowing they'd be so far apart. And now, he was staying. He would still sleep right next door, but it would be permanent. This summer had been... Amazing, to say the least. Mycroft didn't want it to end, but he had had never thought about it lasting. And that scared him.

Chapter Text

"Would you like to tell me what all that was about?"

Mycroft looked up from the book he was reading in the den. Sherlock was leaning in the doorway boredly.

"I have no idea what you mean," he replied.

"Don't insult me, brother." Sherlock moved into the room, sitting in the armchair beside the couch. "You, the one person who should be overjoyed, were despondent. It's a good thing Gregory didn't notice. He seems to be quite sensitive."

"You only think that way because you are incapable of such feelings," he muttered dryly. "And I am very happy that Gregory will be staying with us. Our school is academically much better, our home is large enough to accommodate him, and I have very much enjoyed having him here."

"That was not convincing. At all. You're very bad at this."

Mycroft sighed in exasperation and closed his book with a snap. "What would you like for me to say? I'm afraid? I was so happy having him here, and the thought of him leaving really hurt me. I prepared myself for him leaving, distanced myself... and now he's staying. I never considered he would stay. I didn't prepare for this, I don't know how to react. This is new territory for me, again. But... I care for him, very much."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I have never seen you express such emotions. It's terrible, please stop. Maybe you should try expressing them to Gregory, away from me."

Mycroft tsked in annoyance and made to leave the den, stopping short just outside the doorway.

Greg was there, leaning against the wall, staring at his shoes.

"Gregory, I didn't mean-" He was silenced with a sharp look he didn't even know the brunette could achieve.

"You are so bloody hard to read. If you'd rather I leave, then you should have stood up and said so. I don't want to be around anyone who doesn't want me here." He turned and marched up the stairs, Mycroft quickly after him, catching him in the hall upstairs.

"Gregory, please, that's not what I meant. I-I still care about you!" His voice was hushed, trying not to alert the whole house they were arguing. "I'm just... Thrown off. I don't know how I'm feeling. I don't want you to leave-"

"But you also don't want me to stay here. You need to figure out what you want, or this won't work. I've had enough of the cold shoulder, and I will move on if you don't want to keep going with me."

"I do! Everything just happened so fast, and I've never gotten this close, to anyone. There was so much uncertainty about what would happen when you went home, and I was trying to distance myself so it would hurt less, but now you're staying, and I'm trying to reconcile that with my emotions. I don't want you to leave, and if you stay, I don't want this to end..."

They were both silent for a long moment, looking at each other carefully. There were distant sounds of a radio on in the kitchen, while Hamish and Lillian laughed, Sherlock and John in the den, talking, not loud enough to understand. It was raining again, the noise pittering against window panes and the roof. The anger and hurt slowly slipping from Greg's face, while Mycroft still looked uncertain.

"I don't want this to end either. You, genius that you are, can be a real idiot sometimes though." He leaned in and kissed the redheads forehead gently, surprised when arms wrapped around his waist in a firm embrace.

"I know. I'm sorry, Gregory." Mycroft composed himself before letting go, trying to get his roller coaster of emotions under control. "Maybe we should try and get some sleep." Greg nodded and said good night, as they each went to their separate rooms. "Everything will be fine in the morning."

It wasn't.

Chapter Text

The next morning Mycroft woke early and went to the library. He wanted to be alone and collect his thoughts before seeing Gregory. He wanted to jump right in with this.... it felt weird to call it a relaitionship, but he supposed that's what it was. That would make them 'boyfriends', another word he would have to get comfortable with. But, he was willing to make it work. He loved Gregory. He wanted this to work.

Before going home, he went to Antheas regular cafe, not surprised to see her in her usual spot, scrolling through emails. He hasn't really kept her up to date since he realized his interest in Gregory, and he wanted her take on the matter. Also, she was his best friend, and who else was he supposed to tell these things.

After ordering his beverage, he sat beside her, waiting for her usual nod of aknowledgement, before diving in.

"We had sex."

Antheas head shot up and stared at him, wide eyed. "What?! When?!" she demanded in a hushed whisper.

"Its been a few weeks. I apologize for not keeping you updated."

"Mycroft Holmes, you cannot just waltz in here and drop that on me so calmly while sipping your tea, like some sweet little debutante! Here I was, thinking 'oh, Mycroft has probably buggered it all up and that poor boy will think he is loathed'."

The blush that spread across his face was brighter than the throw pillows on the couch they sat at. "It was difficult, but really, he is very pushy, so that made it easier to accept my own thoughts. Now, he is staying with us for the rest of his schooling it seems."

Anthea grinned like the cat that ate the canary. "Are you telling me that you have a live in boyfriend?"

"Essentially, yes. Though that word will take some getting used to."

"Well, I have no plans for the rest of the day. Or rather, my previous plans are not nearly as interesting as the prospect of meeting him, so I'm canceling them. I'm coming over to yours." She flicked through her phone, shooting off a few texts before looking up at him with a raised brow daring him to tell her no. By now Mycroft knew better than to do so, so he just sighed and nodded. She really was a force of nature sometimes, and the only reason he had a semblance of a 'social life'.




When Greg woke up it was because his door was being thrown open loudly. Glancing at the clock, it was just after 11 am, and he realized he must have missed breakfast. But more surprising to him was the woman in his doorway.

The woman in the doorway couldn't have been taller than 5'3", had her bleached blonde hair pulled up in stylish clips with a few strands framing her suntanned face. Her clothes were brightly colored and too tight and showed too much skin, betraying her older age.

"Mum? What are you doing here?" Greg sat up too quickly, getting dizzy.

"Its good to see you too dear!" She crossed the room to him and kissed him on the forehead with a loud smacking noise. "I came to see my sweet baby boy! It's hard for me to think of you living so far away from home without your mother."

"Is your boyfriend here?" he asked, deadpan.

"Husband now. And no, he's back home, unpacking. I came here myself. I had to see the place for myself, make sure it's a good place for my boy." She looked around the room with distaste. "The wallpaper in here is atrocious."

"Yeah, but the room is huge. And I like it here. I get along with the Holmes."

"Ah, yes, Hamishes new wife. I've just met her. I don't understand why a wife would keep her old name, but I guess I'm just old fashioned that way. And the way she dresses, her skirt was down to her knees, she looked like a nun."

Greg groaned. His mother tended not to get along well with other women. She made everything a competition and usually got angry.

"Enough lazying about. Get up, get dressed and come downstairs while I talk to your uncle." Olivia missed him on the cheek again and traipsed out of the room, looking at inanimate objects with distaste as she went.




It was almost 2 when Mycroft and Anthea got back to the Holmes residence. It was clear out and a cab sat idling in the driveway.

Inside chatter could be heard from the kitchen. Or at least it sounded like chatter at first. Until a woman's shrill voice shouted.

"He is my son! You can't tell me how to raise him!"

Anthea saw the bags by the staircase first, Mycroft was too busy looking towards the kitchen. "Mycroft, maybe we should go wait-"

He turned and looked, saw the brown leather suitcase, and his heart dropped into his stomach.

'But Gregory is staying,' he thought. 'His mother called, it's what's best. He's staying.'

"I'm so sorry, Mycroft..." He realized he'd accidentally spoken out loud, but he didn't care. He had to find Gregory.

Just as he made towards the kitchen the shouting stopped, and Greg walked down the hall. His head was hung and he looked like he was close to tears. A woman was walking behind him, hurrying him along. Hamish was quickly following.

"Now, Olive, there's no need to get upset. Of course he's your son, we were only trying to help-"

"I don't need you and your stuck up wife 'helping me'. You think I'm a bad mother! I can handle this on my own!" The woman, Olivia, Gregory's mother, was red in the face as she yelled shrilly some more. She picked up Gregory's bag with a hefty yank and stormed out the front door to the cab.

Greg stopped in front of Mycroft and it was like the whole world dropped away around them. It was suddenly eerily quite as they stared at each other.

"Please, don't be angry." His words seemed to shock Mycroft.

"Angry? I thought you were staying? You have to stay."

"I have to go. She's my mum. I-I'll write. We'll call. It will be okay."

Tears were welling in Mycrofts eyes, and Greg knew that would embarrass him, so he pulled him into a tight hug, hiding Mycrofts face in his chest. "Don't cry over a ponce like me," he whispered, kissing the side of his head. "Don't let them see you cry, you'll be mad about it later. Stay strong for me, princess." He felt Mycroft nod into him and he released him, quickly walking away before Mycroft could see his own face, now tear streaked. He kept going until he was in the car, shutting the door, and looking dead ahead.

And that was the end of their summer.