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Post-it Notes from You

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It was a bright yellow sticky note stuck onto the fridge that caught Mycroft’s eye as he walked into the kitchen after a long day in the office.  It stood out horrendously against the stainless steel fridge door and the old and well used take away menus. 

 

Mycroft did not give the note a second thought as he removed his coat,  placed his briefcase on the floor and cracked his back with a groan. Greg had the habit of placing notes around the flat for himself in scrawled handwriting. They were mostly shopping lists for himself or small lists of errands that he needed to do. He hardly used them and favoured his phone of the back of hand for his todo lists. 

 

Mycroft switched the kettle on and placed a tea bag in his favourite mug, a birthday gift from Greg that was decorated with goldfish. He rummaged around in the cupboard for the packet of emergency custard creams and let out a heavy sigh when he realised that he had nibbled through the whole packet to console himself after a  dreadful breakfast meeting that lasted four hours. 

 

He had been in a foul mood the whole day and realised that he needed something stronger than biscuits to console himself.  He had woken up to an empty bed that morning, not the for the first time that week.  He had hardly seen Greg over the last few days, work had kept them apart, only allowing them to have a few precious hours together. 

 

Mycroft opened up the freezer and rummaged through the bags of frozen vegetables and pulled out the tub of peanut butter ice cream that he saved for emergencies.   He knew that it was rather undignified to eat ice cream from the tub with a spoon but he could not be bothered to dirty a bowl.  He had averted an economic crisis and had been dealing with EU negotiations all day and felt that he very much deserved to eat ice cream guilt-free

 

With a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth, Mycroft inspected the takeaway menus on the fridge door, taking careful consideration for what he would order for dinner that evening.  He glanced at the post-it note on the fridge door as he took another spoonful of ice cream. 

 

Don’t know when I will be home, important case.  

There is dinner in the oven, needs to cook for twenty minutes.  Please don’t eat ice cream for dinner. 

Please buy milk in the morning. 

Love, Greg. 

 

It was more of a set of bullet points than a note.  A text message would surely suffice instead of a sticky note on the fridge door.  Mycroft rolled his eyes at Greg’s instruction for him not to eat ice cream for dinner, he had only done it once after a having too many glasses of good scotch at a function with some colleagues that he had tolerated. 


He put the ice cream into the back of the freezer behind the bags of frozen vegetables as if he was hiding it from himself before he switched on the oven without even inspecting to see what Greg had made for dinner. 

 

As he waited for the food to heat up, Mycroft went into his desk drawer and rummaged around for a set of post-it notes. 




Greg was not sure where the idea of his had come from, he felt that he might have been inspired by a film or something that he had read in a book.  He had always missed the days when he used to get handwritten letters and notes from people, it always felt so much more personal than a text message or an email. 

 

People had told him that he was stupid for getting into a relationship when he often went days without seeing his partner. Having a relationship that was a long-distance relationship half of the time as Mycroft did travel often for work, often at the drop of a hat, depending on the situation that he was having to deal with. 

 

His job kept him at the office or in the crime scene longer than he would have liked to.  The fact that he was a bit of a ‘workaholic,’ according to Karen and with previous partners had been a cause of conflict in past relationships. It had been the main reason that his marriage had ended and why Karen had to take comfort in the form of a PE teacher. 

 

Upon starting his relationship with Mycroft, Greg found many benefits of having a relationship with someone who was also partly married to his job.  Mycroft understood his commitment to the job and did not huff at him when he was called away during a date night or in the middle of the night. He did the same with Mycroft, they only ever squabbled about it when he was worried that Mycroft was not eating or sleeping enough.  

 

The two of them always had something to talk about when they saw another and conversation never lulled.  Mycroft always brought home some new recipes  for what he could make for dinner after he had been out of the country.  Greg was never much of a homebody and he always preferred to be out and about, he still liked to have his own life even if he was in a relationship. He thought of Mycroft’s flat as being the hub of their relationship, it was a place where the two of them could come together and connect. They could live in domestic bliss within the walls of the flat. 

 

Greg often thought that his relationship was the best of both world,  and it suited him and Mycroft rather well.  It was an easy relationship that he had fallen into and he had never been happier. He liked to think that Mycroft felt the same. 

 

Mycroft was the first partner who understood him, not just with his commitment to his work, but for who he was as a person. In return, he did the same for Mycroft without a moment of hesitation, accepting him fully with his heart.

 

Despite that Sherlock often thought that he was an idiot or somewhat slow, Greg was not stupid and he always knew a good thing when he saw it.  He wanted to make it work with Mycroft even if the lack of time they spent together, often days apart was a challenge. 

 

The main threat was the lack of connection and communication.  Not wanting that to be a problem, Greg left a sticky note on the fridge.


It was hardly anything that Shakesphere would write but it would be enough to the do the job. It was far more personal to tell Mycroft to eat dinner and buy milk on a piece of paper than through a text. 

 

He had been surprised to see a  large post-it note in Mycroft’s tidy handwriting stuck on a pint of milk in the fridge when he made himself a coffee at six in the morning.   Mycroft was asleep when he had come in from work in the evening and Greg did not want to wake him.  Mycroft left the flat at four in the morning, they had a short conversation when Greg was still half-asleep but Mycroft sent him back to bed with a kiss and a promise that he would be home soon. 

 

Dear Greg, 

I’m having to do business with America and I am not sure how long I will be. 

The dinner that you made last night was delightful and I do hope that you make yourself something just as good for yourself. 

I  bought the milk before my car arrived and please water the plants when I’m away. 

 

All my love, 

Mycroft. 

 

 Greg smiled to himself and started to scribble down a note on the pile of post-it notes that were left on the kitchen counter. 

 

With great care, Greg wrote several notes and started to scatter them around the flat for Mycroft to find.  One in a coat pocket, another on his desk;  a post-it on the packet of emergency ginger nuts that were kept in the desk drawer, and one by the toothpaste and with several more hidden around the flat. 

 

He just hoped that Mycroft would find them soon.