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"Come here."

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Mycroft watched helplessly as Greg started to cry. “Gregory?” It was awful seeing his partner shake with frustration and grief, as tears streamed down his face. Mycroft moved to sit next to Greg. “Darling?” Mycroft reached out a hand and gently touched Greg’s shoulder. “Come here,” he begged.


Greg turned to Mycroft, his face red and contorted. “Why?”, he gasped. “Why are people like that?”


“I don’t know.” Mycroft just wanted to get his arms around Greg and hold him. “Come here,” he murmured and pulled Greg against his chest.


Greg rested heavily against Mycroft. He continued to sob and keen. Mycroft held him tight, rocking slowly and whispering soft words of comfort. Eventually the sobbing quieted. Mycroft pressed a kiss into Greg’s silvery hair. Greg shifted and Mycroft relaxed his hold, so Greg could get more comfortable. He was also able to reach his handkerchief and offer it to Greg.


“I’ve soaked your jacket with tears and snot,” Greg muttered, as he mopped his face and finally blew his nose.


“We’ve a very good cleaner. I’m sure it’ll be fine.” His suit coat was the last thing Mycroft was worried about. He waited another minute for Greg to settle back in his arms before asking. “Are you able to tell me what happened?”


Greg sighed. “It’s been a shit week, you know?”


Mycroft hummed in agreement. They’d both had long days, but Greg had been covering extra shifts due to colleagues being out of the office. As much has he didn’t want to admit it Greg wasn’t a young man, and Mycroft could see the extra work was taking its toll.


“And this… this last call…” Greg took a deep shuddering breath. Mycroft felt Greg’s body tense with the effort to not start crying again. “It was brutal. Blood everywhere. Wasn’t hard to figure out what happened. Found the bastard easily enough.”


Mycroft stayed quiet. There was something more, he was sure.


“She was just a baby,” Greg whispered.


Mycroft made a soft sympathetic noise. He knew Greg found the cases involving children especially difficult.


“Blonde, and about Rosie’s age,” Greg continued.


“Ah…” Mycroft now understood fully.


Tears leaked from Greg’s eyes. “I feel like I’m getting softer in my old age, rather than harder.”


“Caring is not an advantage in this instance,” observed Mycroft. “But I’d not have you change.” Mycroft kissed Greg’s wet cheek.


“Do you think…?”


“I’ll call John and see if he would accommodate us.” Mycroft pulled out his mobile and found the contact information.


“I just think it would help if I could see her.”


Mycroft nodded, as the phone lines connected. It was a brief conversation, and shortly after Greg and Mycroft were on their way to Baker Street.


“Thanks, John,” Greg murmured as John let him in Rosie’s darkened room. He stood by her bed and watched her sleeping form. Her thumb had slipped out of her mouth and her mouth moved as it was still sucking on it. Reassured, Greg took a deep breath and nodded to himself. “Right,” he muttered. He and John slipped out, softly closing the door.


They joined Mycroft and Sherlock back in the lounge. Mycroft looked concerned and Greg gave him a wan smile. “I’m going to make sure the case against that bastard is air tight.”


Mycroft nodded. “I expect nothing less.”


“If you need my help, you know where to find me,” Sherlock reminded Greg.


“Thanks, Sherlock.” Greg was touched because this case couldn’t rank any higher than a 2 on Sherlock’s scale. “And thanks again, John.”


Moments later they were back in the car. “Thank you, My.” Greg held Mycroft’s hand.


Mycroft squeezed Greg’s hand and Greg leaned against Mycroft’s shoulder. Mycroft released Greg’s hand to wrap his arm around Greg, holding him close. He signaled the driver to take them home.