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Post-it Notes from You

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 There was something about Mycroft that Greg could not put his finger on.  He had been acting strangely, an unusual nervous energy surrounded him.

 

Mycroft had been acting out of character and had been doing so ever since he had arrived home from his mate’s stag-do.   He had tried to ask Mycroft if something had happened in the time that he was away but   Mycroft always brushed him off and told him that he was fine or that it just worked stress, that he had been dealing with a  matter that he could not talk about due to confidentiality. 

 

There was something on his mind,  it was something that weighed heavily and it bothered him.  Mycroft almost seemed to

 be nervous being around him, there was a question that was on the tip of the tongue but he had been unable to ask.  

 

There was something behind his eyes, no matter how much Mycroft tried to act aloof and if everything was perfectly normal,  his eyes always gave it away.    There was always a particular expression that Mycroft had behind his eyes when he wanted something to say but was unable to get the words out or summon up the courage to speak.   He had that look behind his eyes days before he uttered out that he said ‘I love you,’ for the first time or he had asked Greg to move in with him. 

 

Greg had the feeling that he had known what Mycroft was wanting to say.  He did not know if he had been jumping the gun or not, but he believed that he knew what Mycroft was wanting to ask him; there were only so many milestones that they still needed to reach as a couple.    

 

He had tried to find the right moment to talk to Mycroft, to ask him what was on his mind or why he had been rather peculiar about his desk.  He had been almost horrified when Greg had started to rummage around in it   looking for a pen that actually worked   and had insisted that he would get the pen  for Greg, apparently it was to save  his ‘paperwork  getting muddled.’ 

 

Greg had the feeling that Mycroft wanted to ask him was the same question that he had wanted to ask him for some time.  There had never been the right moment to bring it up, it was not something that he could mention casually as they watched a film together or over dinner. There had to be a right moment for it, he knew that  Mycroft would be rather particular about how or when the question would be asked. 

 

He had tried to bring it up one morning but Mycroft had to deal with the with Prime Minister.   Greg had tried to bring it up when he was at work but he had been interrupted by Sherlock storming into his office, enthusiastically explaining that it was poisoned communion wine that killed the minister on the case that they were working on.  

 

He had tried to talk to Mycroft once the case had been wrapped up with little luck, Mycroft had been whisked away to the office, leaving only a post-it note stuck to fridge about his whereabouts and reminding him that he loved him. 

 

The box felt heavy in Greg’s pocket despite its small size.   He wondered when he was going to ask or when there would be a right moment to do so.  

 

He didn’t know exactly why he suddenly desired that he wanted to get married again or knew that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Mycroft Holmes.  He just knew that he wanted to ask and the thought of spending the rest of his life with him felt right.   It felt as if it was the simplest thing in the universe and any other option did not seem possible for him. 

 

He had a conversation with his friend James at three in the morning when he was in Ireland.  He knew that he was far too old to be up at three in the morning, still caught up in the buzz of alcohol, the evenings felt endless and all possibilities seemed unlimited.   The conversation was surprisingly philosophical and profound as they shared a cigarette, their supposed last one that they would ever have.

 

The conversation turned into the topic of weddings and knowing when you found the ‘one.’     Greg could only remember snippets of the conversation, he had been rather distracted by the hangover that he had the next morning from drinking like he was in his twenties again, but he had decided that it would incredibly stupid not to ask Mycroft to marry him and that he should stop wasting time as he wanted to start spending the rest of his life with Mycroft as soon as possible. 

 

He knew that he had to ask tonight, nothing else in the universe felt important. He knew that he had to ask, the world would surely come to a halt if he did not do so. Greg knew that he had been waiting for too long and he could not procrastinate any longer, he wanted the rest of his life with Mycroft to start as soon as possible. 

 

It was a yellow post-it note that inspired Greg to ask, it had been tucked away in the back of the cupboard, hidden rather carelessly but deliberate enough for it to have possibly gone unnoticed for weeks.  Greg had only found it when he was looking for a particular jar of pasta sauce that he was going to use for dinner that evening. 

 

The jar fell to the ground, carbonara sauce splattered over the kitchen floor when Greg read what the post-it said.  He barely cleaned up the sauce  before he left the flat to get to Mycroft, only stopping to write a post-it note, placing it on top of the ring box.

 

 I’ll say yes, only if you  say it too.