Chapter Ninety-Six: Happy Birthday
Author's Note: I should just put in a permanent note of "sorry this took so long, I'm an evil, evil author". But it's true, I AM sorry. Again, these last few chapters are just difficult to write for some reason. I mean, I've got it all planned; and I have since somewhere around chapter 50, so... yeah. The story will end after Greg and Mycroft graduate school and the epilogue will have them at university, if I haven't shared that already.
Anyway, happy reading :)
The only thing Sherlock liked about his birthday was the fact that he got presents. His mother had just given him money, while John had bought him something that made Sherlock hold his hand the entire day. At least, Greg was assuming they were going to hold hands all day; it was nine am and he, Mycroft, Sherlock and John were on the train heading into London, and their fingers were firmly linked together.
They'd gotten up early- eight goddamn am- to get to Brighton Station, and had hopped aboard a train heading for London Bridge Station. Sherlock apparently had a whole heap of things he wanted to look at; the usual touristy things like the Tower of London, the Thames, Tower Bridge, and the London Eye. Where he really, really wanted to go was the Science Museum, and Mycroft had promised that they'd go. Greg had resigned himself to following Sherlock around as he stared at all the science-y stuff.
Greg and Mycroft were standing, while Sherlock and John had managed to find seats in the early commuter traffic. Greg was jostled from side to side by people, but just kept his arm firmly around the bar he was holding. Mycroft was holding onto him, one arm around Greg's waist, the other playing with Greg's iPod. They were sharing the headphones and Mycroft kept skipping between Muse, Green Day, The Living End, and whatever other songs Greg had put on there.
Mycroft made a soft sound of amusement that Greg barely heard over the people gathered and raised the iPod, wiggling it in Greg's face. 'Jesse McCartney, really?' Mycroft asked.
Greg made a swipe for the iPod, but Mycroft was quicker, and hid it behind his back, almost pulling the headphone from Greg's ear. 'Shut up, I like the song,' Greg huffed.
'No, of course,' Mycroft nodded, face far too serious. 'You have a beautiful soul, Gregory, and you should know it.'
'Fucker,' Greg muttered, and then smiled weakly when a woman glared at him.
'And you tease me about liking Fall Out Boy,' Mycroft snickered, but thankfully moved on. The iPod skipped between Time Is Running Out, Holiday, Don't You Know Who I Think I Am? and even Dead! before Mycroft finally settled on When We Die by Bowling For Soup. Lily had emailed him some links to the songs, and all Greg had needed was one listen through to go and buy all the songs on the iTunes store. Bowling For Soup were awesome.
'I didn't know you liked BFS,' Greg commented as he and Mycroft swayed back and forth, Mycroft humming under his breath.
'I've known of them, but I only liked 1985 and High School Never Ends,' Mycroft admitted. 'Lily mentioned some songs and I looked them up. I didn't realise you had them.'
'Bought two albums after Christmas,' Greg said. 'Um... The Great Burrito Extortion Case and A Hangover You Don't Deserve. I've also got a few other songs. Have you heard My Wena?' When Mycroft shook his head, Greg grinned and made grabby hands for his iPod. The red-head rolled his eyes but handed it over, and Greg scrolled through his songs before finding it.
'This song is ridiculous,' Mycroft commented a few seconds in, but then grinned. 'I love it.'
'Wait until you hear No Hablo Inglés,' Greg snickered.
They spent the rest of the train ride singing softly to each other, and Mycroft somehow managed to memorise the lyrics to A Friendly Goodbye. He sang it to Greg, only with the curse words instead of "eff you" and "s-words", and Greg almost fell right over he was laughing that hard.
'You two are stupid,' Sherlock announced, and Greg wiped his eyes as he looked up at Sherlock. He and John were now standing, the shorter boy having difficulty staying on his feet. He ended up just wrapping his arms around Sherlock's waist, bringing a nice pink blush to Sherlock's pale cheeks. 'Shut up, Lestrade,' he huffed, but shifted into John's body.
'I didn't say anything!' Greg defended himself.
John kissed Sherlock on the cheek and murmured, 'Be nice.' Sherlock grumbled under his breath but went silent, much to Greg's delight. He still had an entire day of Sherlock's snark to get through.
Their first stop was the London Eye, which Sherlock apparently couldn't care less about if his bored expression was anything to go by. But John seemed excited, which was enough to get Sherlock to behave all the way to the bus stop, and on the bus there. He and John had taken up the back seat, while Greg and Mycroft were sitting up the front keeping an eye on them.
'Sherlock's showing off,' Mycroft muttered.
Greg looked up from where he was playing with his phone. 'What?'
Mycroft nodded at Sherlock, who was pointing at people, whispering things to John, and then moving onto another person. 'He's deducing people for John.'
'That's nice,' Greg decided to say when he saw John laugh and smile at his boyfriend. It was a bit weird, he could admit, but if Sherlock and John enjoyed it, then who was Greg to judge? 'Hey, why aren't you deducing people for me?' Greg demanded, rounding on his own Holmes.
Mycroft inclined one eyebrow. 'You didn't ask me to.'
'Well now I am,' Greg said and waved a hand. 'Go on; deduce.'
Mycroft snorted but looked around. The bus was fairly full, with about a dozen people between the front and back of the bus. 'Hmm...' he hummed and tilted his head, eyeing one woman who was staring out the window. 'She's a musician, a drummer, but she's recently taken up the guitar.'
Greg looked at the woman himself and frowned. 'How do you know that?' he asked.
'She's got headphones in, so she's listening to music,' Mycroft explained. 'I can see her reflection in the security mirror behind her,' he added, nodding to draw Greg's attention to the large mirror. 'She's alternating between tapping a rhythm against her thighs, or forming the chords with her right fingers- which also tells me that she's left handed, by the way. Her fingers aren't forming the chords correctly, telling that she's only recently taken up the guitar. But she has good rhythm, so I'm assuming that she's been playing the drums for a number of years.'
Greg hummed as he listened, taking in what he could see of the woman himself. When Mycroft finished Greg said, 'And the fact that she's wearing a Red Hot Chilli Peppers shirt probably helped, right? She's also got a necklace on with a little silver music note pendant.'
Mycroft smiled and leaned over to kiss him, making Greg blink in surprise. 'Very good, Detective Inspector Lestrade,' Mycroft purred.
Greg swallowed thickly. 'Okay, new rule; no sexy voice and role playing when out in public. I don't wanna be arrested for indecent exposure, alright?'
Mycroft just smiled in amusement and leaned back, blue eyes searching out a new target. 'That man over there has OCD,' he commented, and Greg smiled as Mycroft went on to explain how he knew that.
The view from the London Eye was pretty awesome. There were about eight other people in the capsule thing with them, but that didn't stop Sherlock from rushing about trying to get the best view possible, dragging John along with him. They finally came to a halt in front of the railing and leaned over it, both peering through the glass at the ground far below.
Greg and Mycroft were in one corner, hands clasped as they looked around themselves. Greg had visited London before a handful of times, but he'd only ever seen Big Ben. So it was kind of awesome to see all of London spread out below him. He could see the Thames, the Palace of Westminster, Big Ben, and a number of other buildings, both big and small, as he looked across at the view.
'The view's cool,' Greg commented, and Mycroft smiled next to him.
'That it is,' he agreed, his sharp blue eyes taking everything in. He'd already glanced around at the people in the capsule when they'd boarded, and Greg didn't doubt that his partner knew everything about everyone within three minutes. 'Sherlock and John seem to be enjoying themselves.'
'Yeah,' Greg smiled, glancing back at the other couple. 'We should do this again for one of our birthdays.'
'Should we?' Mycroft questioned.
'Yeah,' Greg repeated, nodding. 'Or, you know, just come in one day. Maybe for a date.'
He blushed when Mycroft looked at him, dark red eyebrows going up.
'We haven't been on a date in a while,' Greg mumbled.
'I didn't know that you wanted to go on one,' Mycroft admitted.
They'd been on a few dates since their official first one, but it was mostly to the movies or the shopping centre, or even short little dates at a local fast-food restaurant when Greg finished work. They hadn't really taken an entire day to themselves since the holidays had started... well, an entire day spent out of the bedroom.
'I know a lovely restaurant in Westminster,' Mycroft spoke, breaking Greg from his thoughts. 'It's not too expensive, but not cheap, either. They serve wonderful food.'
'Okay...' Greg hummed.
'We could get the train in again and have lunch before seeing the sights,' Mycroft continued, 'and finish with dinner. We could even go to Piccadilly Circus and see a play.'
Greg grinned and squeezed Mycroft's fingers. 'I'd like that,' he said. He wasn't a big theatre person, but he'd see a show for Mycroft. He might even enjoy it, too. 'But if you drag me to a play, I'm dragging you to a one day cricket match at some point.'
Mycroft groaned but Greg tugged him closer.
'That's the deal,' he said, pressing his lips to Mycroft's cheek.
Sighing, Mycroft said, 'You're lucky I love you.' But he kissed Greg properly, so Greg counted it as a win.
'Sherlock, stop chasing the pigeons!' Mycroft snapped.
Greg groaned and let himself tip forward slightly as Mycroft leapt to his feet and stalked towards his brother. They'd taken a short break in Jubilee Gardens, mostly so that Mycroft and Greg could have a cigarette.
'I wasn't chasing them!' Sherlock denied.
'Yes you were, I saw you.'
Sherlock scowled and crossed his arms. 'I wanted one for an experiment.'
'First of all, Sherlock, you can't have a pigeon,' Mycroft stated, and Sherlock's frown darkened. 'Second, you can't take a live pigeon onto the train.'
'What about a dead one?' Sherlock asked and gestured to a pigeon that was lying off to his side, unmoving.
Mycroft sighed, rubbing his face with one hand. 'Do you have any idea how many diseases pigeons carry?' he queried.
'Yes,' Sherlock sniffed, 'and that's why I brought gloves.'
'Of course you did,' the older Holmes muttered.
John dropped onto the low concrete wall beside Greg and smiled at him as Mycroft and Sherlock continued to argue.
'Sherlock's like one of those little dogs,' Greg spoke suddenly.
John's eyebrows went up as he turned to look at the older boy. 'Dogs?' he echoed.
Greg nodded. 'Yeah, you know those little ones... like, shih tzu's or something? They're cute, but they'll bite your finger off given the chance.'
John snorted and glanced back over at Sherlock and Mycroft, who were still arguing. 'Don't say that where Sherlock can hear you.'
'Like I wanna die,' Greg muttered.
'He won't kill you,' John said, 'just might fill your bed with pigeons.'
Greg huffed a laugh and John smiled, and the two fell into silence. The Holmes brothers were, of course, still arguing. Sherlock was now gesturing at the dead pigeon, no doubt trying to talk his brother into letting him keep it. Mycroft kept throwing his hands in the air and shaking his head.
'So, you and Sherlock seem to be doing okay,' Greg commented after a moment.
'Yeah,' John hummed.
Greg glanced at him. 'You are doing okay, right?'
'Yeah,' John repeated, this time with a nod. 'It's... really nice, dating Sherlock,' he continued. 'I mean, he's still weird, and frustrates me, and half the time I wanna punch him in the face.' Greg chuckled. He'd punch Sherlock in the face if the teen wasn't so young. 'He's still weird, insane, doesn't care about other people Sherlock Holmes,' John shrugged. 'But he's mine, you know? I get to calm him down when he's upset, and watch him do his experiments, and kiss him and hold his hand. It's really nice.'
'That's good,' Greg said, smiling when John looked at him. 'I'm happy for you, John.'
'R-Really?' the younger boy stuttered, and Greg frowned.
'Did you think I wouldn't be?'
'No, it's just...' John sighed and ran a hand through his short hair. 'My mum and dad look at us like it's... what's the saying? Puppy love?'
'Oh,' Greg mused.
John nodded. 'Yeah. I mean, I get that me and Sherlock are only fourteen, but I really, really like him. He's been my best friend for years, and now he's more. But my parents just keep saying, "You'll understand when you're older" and "It won't last, you're young". How do they know?' he suddenly demanded, looking angry, and Greg's eyebrows climbed. 'Yeah, we're young, and yeah, we might not get married or whatever, but I can't see myself with anyone else. I mean, I almost told Sherlock I loved him the other day, and-'
John suddenly clamped his lips shut, eyes wide, and Greg laughed at the absolutely horrified look he was sporting.
'You almost told Sherlock you love him?' Greg echoed. John made an odd sound, lips still pressed together. 'That's nice, John,' Greg continued. 'If you love him, you should tell him.'
Frowning, John looked up at the older boy. 'Really?'
'Yeah,' Greg said. 'I mean, like you said, you might not get married one day. Hell, you might not even make it to the end of the year. But who knows? Maybe you and Sherlock are made to be together. You never know. And you shouldn't give up on your relationship, or let other people break it, just because you might break up one day.'
'So... you think me and Sherlock might make it?' John asked, sounding hopeful.
'Who knows?' Greg repeated. 'You just might. I honestly can't imagine anyone else putting up with him as long as you have.'
'Thanks,' John snorted. 'We're made for each other 'cause I can put up with him.'
'Eh, you know what I mean,' Greg said, nudging John's shoulder with his own. 'You two work well together. I reckon you'll make it.'
John smiled softly, his eyes drifting from Greg to rest on Sherlock, who was now punching Mycroft in the arm. 'Thank you,' he murmured.
'For the record,' John said, still not looking away from Sherlock, 'I think you and Mycroft will make it.'
Greg smiled. 'Yeah?'
John nodded and said, 'You fit.' Greg laughed and John smiled. 'You look at each other like my grandparents look at each other,' he commented.
'Is that a good thing?' Greg asked.
'They've been married for, like, sixty years,' John said. 'So yeah, it's a good thing.'
'Awesome,' Greg grinned and pulled his cigarettes out. He lit one, John watching, and Greg made sure to blow smoke away from the younger teen.
'Do you reckon you and Mycroft would still be friends if you ever broke up?' John asked suddenly.
Greg choked on a lungful smoke and spluttered, coughing and hacking as John laughed at him, the little bastard. He slapped Greg on the back until the brunette could breathe again.
'What the hell happened to me and Mycroft staying together forever?' Greg demanded.
'I was just wondering,' John laughed. 'Jesus, don't have a heart attack.'
Greg grumbled under his breath and coughed again before taking another drag of his cigarette.
'Yes, smoke some more after almost coughing up a lung,' John drawled.
'Shut it, Pipsqueak,' Greg muttered, and John just laughed again.
'So?' John questioned.
'Um... I dunno,' Greg shrugged. 'I don't really like thinking about it,' he admitted.
'Oh,' John hummed, 'sorry.'
'Nah, s'fine,' Greg shrugged. 'Um... I'd like to think that we'd still be friends. I mean, Mycroft's awesome, you know?' John just nodded. 'I really, really, really don't want to break up with him,' Greg continued, 'and if we did break up, I don't think I'd be able to handle seeing him date anyone else. But... I'd still like him to be in my life.'
'I see,' was all John said.
'Are you worried that if you and Sherlock break up you won't be friends anymore?' Greg asked.
John hesitated before nodding. 'He's still my best friend, as well as my boyfriend,' he said. 'And I'd rather have him as my best friend than nothing at all.'
'You'll be fine,' Greg said. 'It'd be hard, obviously, but you'd both pull through.'
'I think you and Mycroft would, too,' John offered, making Greg smile. 'But I don't think you'll ever break up.'
'Yeah,' John echoed. 'I wanna go to your wedding.'
Greg laughed and clapped the younger boy on the back. 'I'd make you my best man, but Dimmock would probably kill me.'
'Sherlock would probably be Mycroft's best man,' John said.
'If Anthea didn't try to convince him to pick her,' Greg said.
They laughed together, but went quiet when Sherlock suddenly shouted. The two looked up to see that Mycroft, apparently having grown frustrated with his brother, had just picked him up, tossed him over one shoulder, and walked towards them.
'PUT ME DOWN!' Sherlock ordered.
'Not until John can keep you in one spot,' Mycroft growled.
'MY!' Sherlock shrieked- people were looking now, and Greg snickered as the brothers reached him and John.
'Having fun?' he asked.
'Shut up, Lestrade!' Sherlock huffed. He scowled when Mycroft set him on his feet and flopped onto John, wrapping his arms around John's neck. 'Mycroft was mean to me,' he mumbled into John's neck.
John bit back a laugh and pushed his fingers through Sherlock's curls. 'It's okay. I'll keep the big meanie away.'
'Hate him,' Sherlock muttered.
'You do not,' John replied.
'Do,' Sherlock said petulantly.
Greg snickered and glanced at Mycroft, who already looked exhausted. 'Cigarette?' Greg said, pulling his packet back out of his hoodie pocket.
'Please,' Mycroft groaned and fell to sit beside him.
Greg lit the cigarette and Mycroft took a long drag, groaning as he blew smoke above their heads. 'How about we go get some coffee after this?' he whispered so Sherlock wouldn't hear. He didn't want to think about Sherlock on caffeine.
'Please,' Mycroft repeated, taking another drag of his smoke.
'Cheer up, love,' Greg said and wrapped an arm around Mycroft's waist. 'Just remember that I love you.'
'Goodie,' Mycroft drawled, making Greg laugh.
John smiled at them, Sherlock still wrapped around him. 'How about we get some drinks before we go to the Science Museum?' the small teenager suggested.
Sherlock immediately perked up and started ordering the other three to their feet, tugging on John's hand as he did. Mycroft sighed but stood, cigarette clasped between his lips. Greg kept his arm around his boyfriend and squeezed Mycroft's hip as they started walking.
There was a Starbucks nearby and Greg and Mycroft got coffee, while Sherlock and John shared a hot chocolate and a large muffin. Sherlock had practically attacked the thing, pulling all the blueberries out and spraying the ground- and poor John- with crumbs.
They walked for a bit, finishing their drinks and food- and in Mycroft and Greg's case, a cigarette each- before trying to find a taxi. Before they could, though, Sherlock had somehow managed to nick Greg's cigarettes and was already puffing on one before John caught him.
'Sherlock!' he snapped, drawing Greg and Mycroft's attention.
'It's my birthday!' Sherlock defended, stepping away from his boyfriend.
'You're fourteen-years-old!' John growled, advancing on Sherlock, and for a little guy he sure looked scary.
'Isn't that better than smoking at thirteen?' Sherlock queried. He looked like he was trying to finish the smoke before John caught him.
'You did smoke at thirteen,' the smaller boy growled. 'Put it out, now.'
'No,' Sherlock sniffed.
'It's bad for you,' John said.
'I don't care,' Sherlock retorted.
John pounced, and again Greg was surprised. He wondered if John played a sport. Sherlock was a quick little stick, though, quicker than John, and he managed to bounce around his boyfriend and behind a group of teenage girls taking pictures of each other. They all giggled and pointed as John chased Sherlock around, the younger Holmes soon hiding himself behind Greg.
'Hey, I'm not protecting you,' Greg said, trying to move aside, but Sherlock was holding onto his hoodie.
'Shields don't talk, Lestrade,' Sherlock snapped before squeaking and darting out of the way. Greg spun on the spot as John ran around him, and then turned to see Sherlock now hiding behind his brother.
By the time John managed to catch Sherlock- thanks to Mycroft wrapping an arm around his little brother and keeping him still- Sherlock had finished half of the cigarette. Sherlock pouted, blue eyes big and wide, as John stamped the butt beneath his shoe.
'There,' John huffed and pointed a threatening finger at Sherlock. 'No more smoking!'
Sherlock just continued to pout and crossed his arms. He sulked for the entire taxi ride, only perking up when they pulled up outside the Science Museum. He was out the door as soon as the car stopped, and John and Greg chased after him while Mycroft paid the driver.
The Science Museum was pretty awesome, Greg had to admit. He'd been thinking that a lot today, it seemed. The East Hall stretched up three floors and was filled with steam engines. Sherlock seemed inclined to climb atop some of the exhibits, but was hindered by Mycroft, Greg and John, the latter threatening to never kiss Sherlock again if he didn't behave himself. Greg snickered at the terrified look on Sherlock's face.
The space gallery was "boring" to Sherlock, who apparently didn't care that the earth and other planets revolved around the sun. He just kept staring at John as his boyfriend tried to explain, and Greg had to hold back all the teases that wanted to break free. It was Sherlock's birthday, and Greg was trying to keep the peace.
'I like this gallery,' Mycroft said as they walked through the Making of the Modern World Gallery.
'Yeah,' Greg hummed, eyes on the Apollo 10 Command Module. It was pretty interesting to see how humans had grown over the years. Sherlock was more interested in the most modern developments and was at the other end of the room with John, chattering excitedly about something or another. 'Sherlock seems to be enjoying himself.'
Mycroft chuckled. 'We visited this museum about four hundred times during our childhood.'
'Really?' Greg asked, always keen to hear more about Mycroft's life before he'd moved to Brighton.
'Every weekend I brought him here,' Mycroft nodded. 'Well, before I started...' he trailed off and cleared his throat. Greg didn't need to hear any more; he knew that Mycroft and Sherlock's relationship had suffered after Mycroft had started using. He just grabbed Mycroft's hand, squeezed his fingers, and pulled him towards the younger couple.
The Making of the Modern World Gallery was followed by the Flight gallery, which Sherlock again deemed boring, and then the Launchpad. It was here that Sherlock really lost himself, immediately darting away into the crowd, and John had a hard time keeping up. There were over fifty interactive exhibits with people standing by to demonstrate, and Mycroft and Greg wandered through trying a few themselves, but mostly standing back and watching.
Sherlock spent a good hour there, and Mycroft and Greg only left once to get bottles of water. They found John groaning, hands tucked into his pockets, standing beside Sherlock who was yet again demanding a more thorough explanation of something. He then proceeded to call the man working there an idiot and Mycroft quickly intervened while Greg passed a bottle of water to John.
Greg was sure that they did five or six circuits of the building before Sherlock could finally be dragged away. It was way past lunch time now and the four teenagers stopped at a small café to down sandwiches, burgers, and fries. Even Sherlock ate while talking full-steam about everything he'd seen. He demanded that Mycroft take him back, and Mycroft promised him an entire Saturday in the foreseeable future. Greg had never seen Sherlock looked that happy, and it sort of made up for getting dragged through the Science of Art and Medicine four times.
Big Ben was their next stop, seeing as how it was on the way to Tower Bridge, and Greg took some photos of himself and Mycroft on his smartphone. Sherlock rolled his eyes at them, but jumped at the chance to get photographed with John, blushing when John snuck a kiss into one of the photos. Greg and Mycroft cooed over the photo and Sherlock flipped them off. He then stole another one of Greg's cigarettes and spent the next twenty minutes running from John.
'I'm kind of exhausted,' Greg said as he stood staring up at the large castle. It was... well, awesome, but Greg didn't want to say it again out-loud. He needed to pick up a dictionary, because seriously, he apparently only knew one or two words to describe cool things.
'Mm,' Mycroft sighed from beside him. 'Did you know that Queen Elizabeth I was held prisoner here before she became Queen?'
'Yeah,' Greg chuckled. 'I took history too.'
'Sherlock forgot,' Mycroft told him. 'I mentioned it once, when I was doing some extra reading on Queen Elizabeth I, and he thought I was talking about the current Queen. She was far less interesting to him after he learned that she'd never been in prison.'
Greg laughed at that. Sherlock might be a genius, but Greg had learned that he had selective memory. Like the whole space thing. Everyone above the age of six knew that the earth revolved around the sun, but not Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes, who could tell you what cigarette someone smoked based on the ash they left behind.
'Sherlock seems to have had fun, though,' Greg said, nodding at the boy, who was inspecting one of the castle's walls, John as ever present at his side.
'Mm,' Mycroft hummed again. 'But he still wants to go to the beach tomorrow,' he groaned.
'Well count me out,' Greg said.
'Sherlock told me that you're not invited,' Mycroft chuckled.
'Sounds good to me,' Greg shrugged. 'I have work the day after tomorrow and I'm planning on sleeping in.'
Mycroft suddenly wrapped his arms around Greg and drew him in for a hug, resting his head on Greg's shoulder.
'You okay?' Greg asked.
'Thank you for coming today,' Mycroft said, voice muffled by Greg's jumper.
'It's fine, I had fun,' Greg said.
'I'm glad,' Mycroft said.
There was a shout from behind them, and they both turned to see Sherlock trying to climb the wall. Mycroft groaned and Greg laughed.
'Come on, time to rein the brat in,' Greg said.
Sighing, Mycroft let his boyfriend go and ran after his brother.
It was late by the time they got on the train, and Sherlock and John immediately passed out in the seat opposite Mycroft and Greg's. After sneaking a video of Sherlock drooling on John's jumper, Greg turned to Mycroft. 'All in all, the day was a success.'
'Yes, it was,' Mycroft agreed. 'My mother texted me and said that John's mother is picking Sherlock and John up from the train station.'
'Good,' Greg said. 'I want to be able to cuddle you without Sherlock teasing me.'
Mycroft offered him a small smile and said, 'Well... I suppose it's good practice for when we have our own children.'
Greg grinned. He knew that it was probably weird, him and Mycroft thinking about kids at their age, but it always made him stupidly happy. Just knowing that Mycroft was thinking about the future, a future with Greg, was enough to make the older boy's heart stop.
'Not sure what I'll do if our kids are anything like Sherlock, though,' Greg joked.
Mycroft chuckled. 'Genetics doesn't work like that, love. I'd like to teach any child of mine how to deduce people, but...'
When he trailed off, Greg said, 'But...?'
'But it didn't work out for Sherlock and me,' Mycroft frowned. 'We're... well, weird is a nice way of putting it.'
'Hey, don't be like that,' Greg said, nudging Mycroft gently. 'Even if our kids are geniuses they'll still be awesome.'
'Even if they don't have any friends?' Mycroft asked. 'I know how lonely it gets. Sometimes I wish that I was as stupid as everybody else.'
'You're awesome, Mycroft, and Sherlock is, too,' Greg said. 'Besides, you've got friends, and Sherlock has John as well as you and me. All my mates would do anything for him, too. If our kids are super smart they'll be just fine, 'cause we'll always be there for them.'
Mycroft smiled and leaned heavily against Greg's side. Greg, of course, saw that as an excuse to wrap an arm loosely around Mycroft's shoulders. 'You're a wonderful human being, Gregory,' Mycroft said. 'And I'm reminded of that every day.'
'I'm nothing special,' Greg snorted.
'But you are,' Mycroft said, a soft smile playing at his lips. 'Never doubt that.'
'Guess you'll just have to remind me every day, then,' Greg shrugged.
Mycroft smiled and Greg leaned back in his seat, arm still firmly around his boyfriend. They kept their eyes on Sherlock and John, the two still asleep, as the gentle rocking of the train carriage carried them into silence.