HAART

It had been a wildly busy week for both men, and Greg had been eagerly awaiting the one night off they both had so that he could finally spend some time with Mycroft. Beyond a few short conversations and a few stolen moments when Mycroft had come by the station to bail Sherlock out for doing something particularly stupid, it was going to be the first time in nine days that Greg would get to see Mycroft. 

This was particularly meaningful because the last time they had been together for any length of time, Greg had told Mycroft that he loved him. And Mycroft had been stunned into absolute silence.  

Greg had understood, of course. It had been a very long time since Mycroft had dated, and it was bound to be difficult for him to let someone love him after what the last person who had said those words to him had done. Still, it had stung, and Greg wanted so badly to see if enough time had passed that Mycroft was ready to return the sentiment, or at least provide a rough timeline for when such a thing might be possible. 

Greg had left work perfectly on time for the first time in ages, and was home shaving when his phone began to ring. He picked it up, a tension headache forming as the number for New Scotland Yard flashed on the screen. 

“Lestrade,” he practically growled into the phone.

“Detective Inspector, hi, this is Murphy from booking, We need you to come down to the station please.”  

“Murphy, I don’t know who put you up to this,” Greg snapped, “but I have worked doubles every day for the last nine days. The Queen herself isn’t going to get me to come into work right now.” 

“I’m sorry, Sir,” Murphy squeaked, “I’m not trying to get you to work, I promise,  it’s just, I have your daughter here…” Greg didn’t wait to hear the end of the sentence, hastily getting dressed and sprinting out the door. 

~~~

Greg took the stairs up to his office three at a time, not bothering to breathe until he knew his daughter was safe. 

“Oh, Katie, baby,” Greg choked out as she came into view, launching herself into Greg’s waiting arms. “Are you okay, sweetheart, are you hurt?” 

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Katie mumbled into Greg’s shoulder. “I’m fine, but Mummy…I told her she shouldn’t be driving…she wouldn’t listen…I asked to call you, like you said to, and she wouldn’t let me and…” her sentence ended in a shaky sob as Greg held her even tighter to his chest. 

“My ex-wife?” He asked the nearby desk sergeant. 

“Drunk, sir. Single car crash, .23 in the field.” 

“Injuries?” Greg asked quietly, his body tensing.

“She’ll be fine, bumps and bruises. Katie here says that nothing hurts, so she is free to go.” The sergeant gave a tight lipped smile and a nod, and started to retreat to give the two  some space before pausing and adding one additional comment. “Child protection had to be called, you understand, but they’re satisfied that you’ll be able to keep her while the investigation is on-going.” 

Greg blanched at that, grateful that the sergeant had turned away from them. Of course he would keep her, he adored his daughter, but when she stayed over his scruffy bachelor flat she slept on a pull-out couch in the living room. He blinked hard a few times, forcing himself to focus on the sniffling little girl in his arms. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. Come on, now, let’s,” he took a shaky breath and dropped a kiss to the top of her head. “Let’s get you home.”

~~~

“You never have to apologize for prioritizing Katie,” Mycroft assured Greg over the phone that night. “That is what you are supposed to do, she should be your priority. I’m just glad she’s safe, that’s all that matters to me.” 

“Most people aren’t as forgiving as you,” Greg replied, a touch of bitterness creeping into his voice. 

“We aren’t our exes, Gregory.” Mycroft replied softly. Greg smiled, his fingers slowly carding through Katie’s hair as she slept against his chest. She was trying to pretend that the crash hadn’t shaken her too much, but she had fully resisted all attempts to get her off to bed until she finally dozed off against Greg’s chest, watching telly. 

“Forgive me for asking,” Mycroft said after an extended moment of silence, “but having seen your flat, do you have a plan for where Katie is going to sleep?”

“The sofa pulls out,” Greg grimaced. “I know it’s not enough. I’m going to have to find a new flat, but I can’t think about that tonight.” 

“There will be plenty of time to think about that sort of thing,” Mycroft agreed gently. The two were quiet for a long moment, each listening to the other’s breathing. “This is wholly inappropriate for me to ask. Quite honestly, I probably shouldn’t ask at all, I apologize for bringing it up.” 

“You didn’t bring anything up, really,” Greg remarked, chuckling softly. “You know you can ask me anything, Mycroft.” 

“My home is objectively too large for two people, and your flat is objectively too small for two people.” 

“True,” Greg replied with a grin.

“Michelle brought up the possibility that Katie might be more comfortable if the two of you were to stay here. I agree with her.” Greg let his head fall back against the couch cushion, his smile threatening to split his face in two. 

“I don’t want to rush you into anything, Mycroft, but, you know how I feel about you. If this is really something you want, then of course, I would love to move in with you. But if it’s too soon, if you’re unsure in any way, I don’t want to impose.”   

“It’s not that I’m unsure. I would love to have you here.” Mycroft was quiet for a long moment. “It has been a very long time since I have shared my home with anyone other than Michelle. And I haven’t shared my bed with anyone since Peter.”

“I told you from the start, we don’t have to sleep together if that’s not something you feel comfortable with. If it makes you feel better to have me in the guest room, that's where I will be.” Katie stirred a bit in her sleep, her face creasing with anxiety. Greg held her a little tighter and it smoothed back out. 

“It’s not just that, of course. I have been informed that I am rather hellish to live with.” 

“What, by Peter?” Mycroft didn’t respond, but the silence was sufficient enough an answer. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t put too much stock in his opinion.”    

“Barring some emergency I will not be working this weekend. Perhaps you and Katie can have a…” Greg could almost hear the look of disdain on Mycroft’s face as he searched for a better word and came up short, “sleepover.” 

“Michelle won’t mind?” 

“If Michelle had her way I would have proposed on our first date. I would be more concerned that she’ll never let you leave.” 

~~~

Katie had been very excited when Greg had floated the idea of spending a weekend with Mycroft and Michelle. She had immediately demanded that she get to meet the mysterious boyfriend that her dad had been refusing to provide a picture of for the last two months. So with Mycroft’s evening looking uncharacteristically open, Greg invited him over for an introductory dinner. 

Katie had extracted every bit of information she could about Mycroft before he arrived, and was well prepared to engage with him about politics and old movies. She clearly wanted so badly to impress her dad’s partner, desperate for him to like her. 

As it turned out, she really didn’t need to try all that hard. True to Sherlock’s claim, Mycroft really was great with kids. He didn’t talk down to her, eagerly engaging her in conversation and speaking to her as though she were an equal. He complimented her on her grasp of the sociopolitical landscape of the EU and UK following Brexit, then seamlessly transitioned into conversations about her recent football game. 

It was with no shortage of argument that Katie finally headed off to bed that night and Greg walked Mycroft down to his car. 

“She adores you,” Greg murmured outside Mycroft’s driver’s side door. “I knew she would.” 

“I’m rather fond of her as well,” Mycroft replied. “Thank you for having me over tonight, I really appreciate getting to be a part of your life like this.” 

“I want you to be a part of every aspect of my life,” Greg smiled, one of his hands reaching up to cup Mycroft’s cheek. “I did some research, by the way. Did you know that you can’t transmit HIV through kissing?” 

“Not unless both partners have open sores or bleeding gums,” Mycroft corrected. 

“Do you have bleeding gums?” Greg asked, laughter bubbling up from deep in his chest. 

“I don’t.” 

“Neither do I,” Greg whispered, his face now centimetres away from Mycroft’s, their breath mingling as they each leaned slightly to close the gap. 

“I cannot fucking believe you, Greg Lestrade,” a shrill voice interrupted them a mere second before their lips met, as the not all that imposing figure of Tilly Lestrade jumped out of a nearby car and stormed towards her ex-husband.