Disclaimer: Sherlock Holmes belong to Sir ACD and in this reincarnation Moffat, Gatiss and the BBC. We own nothing and are only writing this for fun.

Warning: Vamp!Lock, supernatural themes, some violence, supernatural themes and love between two men. This chapter, Mystrade, Greg finds out the truth about his lover. Does he shoot him as Sherlock hopes he will?

Love isn't brains children, it's blood.

Part Six.

Mycroft knew that Greg would be late coming over. After Sherlock's fall the DI had been forced to take on more cases to prove his worth. Mycroft was working on making sure the proof that Sherlock had been the real deal would get to the media and Greg's superiors but it was a slow, tricky road since Moriarty had done his work very well.

He was nervous, no scratch that he was fucking terrified that after tonight Greg would want nothing to with him. Mycroft didn't even want to think about what would happen then. Most likely he would have to goad Sherlock into killing him before the blood rage claimed him completely.

Lestrade cursed and was very tempted to just flip the entirety of New Scotland Yard off and see if Mycroft might be interested in helping him find a different job. He was dealing with the shifts from hell and all of them, all of them, were little shite cases that an amoeba could solve in its spare time. If they were going to force him to be late they could at least make the cases decent. He smirked, at least he got to 'share the joy' with Donovan and Anderson. Neither of the two had gained any ground or gotten higher up the ladder over their eager little 'case' against Sherlock so they were both still in his department and under his command.

He finally got off and was on his way to dinner with his lover. He'd been thinking about and wanting to get to Mycroft all bloody day and not just for the wild, incredible sex. He liked the other man's company, the clever tongue and quiet manner with the thrum of power that just seemed so much more than what an ordinary man should possess, and also liked the softness he saw in Mycroft, something he was certain very, very few were privileged enough to know about. He hit his speed dial for Mycroft's number and put it on speaker while he drove.

"Hello Gregory, finally thrown off the shackles of menial labor for the day then?" Mycroft held his phone tightly and hoped that the mind numbing terror he felt couldn't be heard in his voice.

"Funny but yeah, I'm on my way. Been busy today?" It was a bit of a silly question, Mycroft's days were always busy, but it was how he asked about the other man's day without asking what he'd done. He never pushed to know things he shouldn't.

Mycroft suddenly had the urge to pour his heart out, to tell Greg all about how he had fucked things up with Sherlock...again. Of course he couldn't so he just hummed under his breath. "Busy, busy. I do wish the children could learn to do some work on their own without constant supervision."

Greg snickered, "Oh but they know that Daddy'll always take care of it for them so why should they?" He cut through traffic like a bad tempered shark.

"Daddy might just throw them to the wolves to teach them a lesson one of these days...Besides, Daddy won't be around forever so they better learn to stand on their own two feet sooner rather than later." Mycroft treasured Greg's chuckle, hoping it wasn't the last time he'd hear it.

He grimaced, "Oh that's a depressing thought. Personally I like to pretend you'll be around for eternity, guiding things from behind the scenes."

"Not even eternity lasts forever, sometimes it's shorter than you think." Mycroft sighed at his own gloomy thoughts. "Just hurry up and get over here, without getting into an accident or getting pulled over."

Greg slid his gaze briefly to the phone in a concerned frown, "Are you okay baby?" It was a pet name he reserved for the bedroom or if he thought Mycroft was upset.

"I need to talk to you...Ask me that again afterwards." His sluggish heart was pounding now and Mycroft didn't like the feeling, he did not like it all.

He felt his stomach clench and his hands gripped the wheel in worry. "Five minutes, at the outside. Whatever's wrong we'll deal with it together." He knew he was perilously close to confessing undying love but considering that he was arse over tits for Mycroft, that was going to wind up being confessed sooner or later.

"See you when you get here." Mycroft ended the call and got up to pace the soft carpet of his room. One man, one single extraordinary man had done was centuries hadn't been able to and brought Mycroft to his knees. As long as Greg was with him, Mycroft wouldn't mind walking on his knees for the rest of his existence.

Lestrade stepped on the gas and got to Mycroft's house sooner than he ever had before, waving a short hello to Thomas before going in search of Mycroft, starting as always with the office. Office, kitchen, and dining room were clear and Greg decided to skip to the end and head for Mycroft's quarters.

Mycroft looked up when the doors to his quarters opened and Greg stepped inside. His heart clenched at the sight of the other man and if control hadn't been bred into him since birth, his hands might even have shaken. "Good to know you made it here in one piece."

He walked forward and lifted his hands to cup Mycroft's face, "What's wrong Mycroft?"

He leaned into Greg's touch for a short moment before pulling away, he couldn't fall apart now. Not before he'd said anything. "Please sit down."

Once he'd been able to maneuver Greg into a seat, Mycroft sat down opposite him and crossed one leg over the other. "I don't really know where to start but there are things that needs to be said. Do you remember the string of really vicious murders last year? The bodies put on display near graveyards and holy sites?"

Greg frowned, "Yeah, hard to forget a rash of beheadings and corpses staked to the ground. Never did find the bastard who did it, was like he just disappeared. You're not going to tell me that the killer worked for you are you?" Because if that was the case he was going to need an hour to punch the shit out of a bag in Mycroft's gym because two of the victims had been children.

"Of course not, those butchers did most certainly not work for me." Mycroft actually looked upset at the very thought. "The reason I'm asking you is, did you ever see anything strange about the victims, about the way they were killed and everything surrounding the case? Not only those cases but other ones too."

"You mean the vampire iconography? Our profiler did a work up on that, figured that the killer was obsessed with vampire mythology and believed the people he killed were the undead." Greg's frown didn't ease but he reached over and squeezed Mycroft's knee, not liking the upset on his face. "We get a few things like that every now and again, though usually it's people believing their vampires and acting out the fantasy of drinking people's blood."

Mycroft's lip curled at the undead comment but he had to keep going now while he had the courage to. "Usually yes, but what about the times that are not freaks and delusional people? What about those cases Gregory?" He couldn't take comfort in Greg's touch not until he knew if Greg could really accept him for whom he was, what he was.

Greg wasn't stupid, he could see where Mycroft was trying to lead him. "Are you telling me that vampires are real Mycroft?"

"That is exactly what I'm telling you." Mycroft kept his voice steady. "Not the bogeyman version, cursed by god or the devil, not sensitive to crossed, holy land, holy water or garlic. Not dying by a stake to the heart...well okay, that can be fatal if one knows what one's doing. I'm talking a sub-species, evolved alongside humankind. It's real, it really is." Taking a deep breath he pulled his lips back and showed his own pearly white fangs.

Part of not being stupid is also being skeptical so Greg's first reaction was to reach out and pull on one of the fangs to see if it was really there. After all he'd had his tongue in Mycroft's mouth, multiple times, and had that mouth around his cock before so he could be forgiven for not quite buying sudden fangs as they hadn't been there before. Of course the sharp edge of the fang wound up slicing into his finger when he pulled and it didn't budge. He jerked his hand back with a hiss to inspect the damage, his brain screaming out a very loud 'Run moron! RUN!' klaxon alarm.

Mycroft hurriedly sheathed his fangs but he still tasted Greg's blood inside his mouth and since it was the blood of the one he coveted mind and body didn't really want to work together here. "You poke my teeth?" I came out more of a question than a statement like he really couldn't believe it had happened.

Greg pulled a napkin left from a very sad lunch of a chip butty and used it to press against the cut on his finger, giving Mycroft a slight scowl, "Well what else was I going to do? I've been sleeping with you since Baskerville and never saw hint of bloody fangs before so excuse me for checking to see they were real and not just put ons to confuse the bugger out of me." He grimaced as salt on the napkin stung the cut, "How long have you had fangs?" He needed to know if this was a recent development or if he needed to curse a blue streak at his lover.

"Time is irrelevant." Mycroft kept his eyes on Greg. "I've have fangs since my teeth first came in but I suppose that's not what you're really asking...let's just say that this queen bearing this name is not the first Elizabeth to have reigned during my existence."

Mycroft had lived during the Elizabethan era. Greg just stared a bit. He knew Mycroft, or at least liked to think he knew him, better than most so he was mostly certain that there was no possible way his lover would lie about this to pull off an elaborate prank. Still if he'd kept this from him, he could be keeping an unknown sense of humor from him as well. Moments like this he wished Sherlock was around to...his narrowed his eyes, grit his teeth and asked, "How close to immortal are you?"

"Immortal is such a big word, we can certainly die in plenty a ways...It just takes a little longer or a little more effort to get us there." Mycroft was seeing where Greg's mind was going, oh his chosen was clever indeed. Despite the seriousness of the conversation, he couldn't help but feel such a sense of pride for Greg.

His mind arrived at the right conclusion with very little wait and he surged up, practically growling, "You son of a bitch. Oh you had damn bloody fucking well have a good reason for not telling me Sherlock's alive because if you don't I am going to shoot your dick off! I've been blaming myself for his 'death' for the past month. I fucking cried in your arms you bastard so it had better be the best God Fucking Damn reason for an action to ever cross your lips."

"I promised him." It came out calm though Mycroft was feeling anything but. "Sherlock needed to jump, Moriarty had seen to it. One sniper trained on Mrs. Hudson, one on John...and one on you. If Sherlock didn't jump the snipers were ordered to take the shot and they are still watching, still waiting for a single mistake so they can pull the trigger. Sherlock is scrambling to fix him and I couldn't go against him in this ...not again."

Greg opened his mouth, shut it, then spun to the nearest wall, pulling his arm back and punching it as hard as he could. He kicked the armoire beside it a few times for good measure, all while turning the air around him blue, "Bloody buggering arsewart twat fuck face, 'oh I'm so clever look at me' little fucking bastard of the massive goddamn bloody ego shithead, piss drinking fucker." He kept cursing as he turned to pace, running out of English curses and falling into Welsh. "Anws blewog ast cachau bant, dos i chwara dy Nain. Malu cachu twll tin gotsan haliwr!"

He wound down and dropped back into his chair with an irritable grumble and just looked at Mycroft.

Mycroft looked back, having stayed silent and still during Greg's tantrum, not wanting to add fuel to the fire. "Are you done? I especially liked the hairy assed bitch fuck part."

"Oh kiss my arse." Greg rubbed his hand over his face, "I'm a copper, I know the logic behind the mess, and I'm a brother so I know the loyalty behind the silence. That does not make me feel any better about it in the first place though. especially not since the last time I saw John he told me to go to hell. Jesus, John...he's going to kill Sherlock." He saw the twitch, "If you tell me John knew about this from the start and I didn't I'm going to hit you."

"I don't know what to tell you, I don't want to get hit. Recent events have showed that John's known all along but Sherlock didn't know...neither did I. John cornered Sherlock at the cemetery and broke his nose." Mycroft was still miffed about John having been able to keep his hunter abilities from him.

"Just so long as John figured it out on his own because I'm telling you, hearing that John would have been told and I wouldn't would not have resulted in anything but a bad night for everyone involved." He sighed, "Okay, it's okay. I'll still be a little mad for a while about it but it's okay. Back to the main point of our discussion. You're a vampire...why tell me now?"

Mycroft pondered on what to say before he finally decided on honesty. "Because I don't want to lose you. Because I don't want what we have, what I hope we have clouded by lies. I'm still me, the good and the bad and everything in between...I haven't lied about anything other than the species I belong to."

"And is that all?" Greg studied him carefully, "No more sins of omission that would affect you and I?"

Damn his lover for being so bright and perceptive. How did you tell the man you loved that you would have to feed from them and bond unless you wanted to die or go crazy. He still had time until either of those things would happen though and he did not want Greg to think that he'd told him only pressure him into a bonding. "Not at the moment no."

Greg looked exasperated, if a bit fond, "In other words, yes but you're not ready to tell me yet. Fine, just so long as you do before it becomes a problem."

"I will." He wouldn't have a choice but to tell once the time came. He wanted to ask Greg to bond with him out of love though, not necessity. Mycroft didn't dare to make the move to touch Greg yet, he was just thankful that he hadn't been punched or shot.

He noticed Mycroft's reluctance to touch him and huffed in amusement before shooting a hand out, grabbing Mycroft's tie, and pulling him in for a kiss. As his Gran used to say, start as you mean to go on.

Moaning happily, Mycroft shifted so that he was straddling Greg, deepening the kiss and spearing his fingers through silvery hair. "I love you."

He smoothed his hands down to rest on either side of Mycroft's waist and his heart fluttered in his chest. That was the first time Mycroft had said the words. He angled his head to press his lips against his jaw, "I love you too cariad."

Those words from Greg made his sluggish heart beat like it never had before. Gods if Greg only knew the power he held over him, how much Mycroft belonged to him. For now he held on and did his best to show Greg through his actions.

Greg's hands went up Mycroft's back, pulling him closer, touching and grounding them both in an embrace as he brushed soft kisses over his lover's face. "No matter what you do or how angry you might make me in the future, that's not going to change baby. I'm still going to love you."

"I've never said it before, not to another person. I've used the word of course, like I love tea or I love Shakespeare, the work not the man, the man was a twat and he had fleas in his beard." Mycroft was aware that he was babbling but for some horrible reason every filter seemed to fail him. "My point is that I've never said it before, not to my parents and not even to Sherlock. I mean it though and you are the only one I want to say the words to. I love you, I love you, I love you."

As much as the words warmed him, he was also worried. Mycroft didn't babble. He pressed his lips to Mycroft's, stilling them in a long, slow, emotional kiss. He'd told his parents he loved them before of course, and his siblings, so he couldn't offer Mycroft the exact same gift in return but he could give him one thing, "I never gave a lover those words before, not even my ex-wife," which in hindsight should have been a very big warning sign, "but you've got them, you've got my heart Mycroft, cariad. Dw i'n dy garu di, I love you. With all my heart I love you."

Mycroft covered Greg's face and neck with kisses, trying his best to keep tongue over teeth and not blurting out everything that was on his mind. Apparently giving his soul to someone was a very potent truth serum. "Come to bed with me." It wasn't about sex though he never turned that down with Greg but this was about closeness and belonging.

Greg opened his mouth to answer in the affirmative when his stomach chose to ruin to moment for him and grumbled loudly. He dropped his head onto Mycroft's shoulder while his shook in embarrassed laughter.

Smiling, Mycroft ran his fingers through Greg's hair. "On second thought we should go to the kitchen and see what Hettie has created for you today. She loves feeding you."

Greg kissed the tip of Mycroft's nose, "Sorry. Bed sounded good though, I suggest an immediate retreat to it once we take care of my unruly stomach."

"Don't apologize, you've worked hard all day and made you come all the way over afterwards. Of course you need to eat and I should have thought about that." Mycroft kissed Greg again and shuffled off his lap. He was hungry too, so very hungry, especially with the taste of Greg still on his lips. He was not in any sort of danger zone though so everything was alright.

He got to his feet and snagged Mycroft's hand as they left Mycroft's quarters, "Speaking of food and eating, I've seen you eat. So now the question is, do you need to? I'm probably going to annoy you with a thousand questions by the way." He was curious and on top of that he was a caretaker so he wanted to know about the proper care and feeding of his vampire.

"Ask away, that's the only way to learn." Mycroft kept his fingers laced with Greg's as they walk. "Food doesn't do anything for me. It's not nutritious nor is it harmful, it tastes nice and I enjoy good food. Blood though is essential, it is our life force, what we need to survive and grow."

"Okay so food doesn't do anything, that go for alcohol and drugs as well? Because I remember Sherlock and the withdrawal from hell."

"On its own it does nothing, in the bloodstream of someone drunk or high...that's a different matter entirely as Sherlock no doubt showed you." Mycroft gave Greg's hand a squeeze.

Greg hummed, "Okay," he made a bit of a logic leap, "So different people taste different to you then? I'm no doctor but I remember a little secondary school biology and blood's affected by what people eat, how much they exercise, and health conditions so that'd affect the taste right?"

"Yes, there is a great difference in taste in how people live and what they eat. Not that it really matters these days other than with live donors. Bagged blood is like milk bought at the store, it all tastes the same. Keeps us alive but not more than that."

Well that answered the next question he'd had about how they got the blood they drank. Mostly bagged but sounded like some people in the know gave off the hoof. "So what can you do then? I mean I really, really doubt you can turn into a bat but if you drink human blood that means you hunt humans so you've got to have an advantage over us."

Mycroft chuckled. "No shifting into a bat or any other kind of animal that I've heard of. No flying or turning into mist. We're stronger, faster, built better, stronger bones and such, heightened sense of smell and great night vision...plus we're a bitch to kill if you don't know how. Mostly we're predators, built to hunt and overcome our prey."

"And live longer, Mr. I-Knew-Shakespeare-As-A-Twat." It was spoken with pure amusement, "Is being with a human frowned on?" That was an important one to him, he needed to know in case someone poked at Mycroft the wrong way about his relationship with Greg so he could help his lover calm down or feel better.

"There are elitists in every group or species I suppose. Some will frown but only once if they want to live to frown again." Mycroft curled his lip in disgust, he knew the views some of the vampires had, that being with a human was like being with an animal, sick and wrong but those vampires were a minority. "Hettie is very much human and there are plenty of us who chose to share our lives with a human mate."

"That's got to be a scary prospect though, humans have blink and you miss it lifespans by comparison."

He shot his lover an amused look. "As I said Hetty is very much human...she was my nanny when I was nothing but a sharp-toothed tyke."

Greg's brows went up, "So she's...how does that work?"

"When a vampire and their mate bond, the vampire shares his life force with his or hers chosen one, truly bind their beings together. Most often a bonding also means the turning of the mate...for security reasons, if one dies so does the other but Hetty didn't want to lose her humanity and Thomas loves her more than anything and wouldn't deny her anything."

Greg could see why someone would want to stay human, sort of. It had to be a bit disconcerting to find yourself mated to a vampire and you'd probably want to keep as much the same as you could. The cop in him was nattering on about the advantages of better senses and strength though. He was getting a clear picture of the 'not truly immortal' bit too. "So the murders last year, the victims were all vampires. Who was the killer?"

"One of the hunter clans, the Bartons this time. For them a vampire is to be killed on sight, in their eyes an innocent vampire does not exist, not even children." Mycroft's voice was bitter, it had hurt losing so many vampires to the Bartons and the children had hurt most, children were rare and precious. "Once the hunters were a necessity, I can admit that but we've evolved, they haven't...Well except for the good doctor it seems."

"The hell? Not only are vampire hunters an actual thing, John's one?" Greg almost stumbled hearing that, "And please tell me those Barton bastards aren't a threat anymore." Preferably they were six feet under or feeding deep sea scavengers but he wasn't going to voice that.

"The Barton clan will not hurt anyone again." It was said with finality. "And yes, John is a hunter, he's been living under my nose for years and I didn't know...Better still though, Sherlock didn't know." Mycroft grinned. That John had been able to keep it from Sherlock as well was the only thing that made it bearable for Mycroft.

Greg snickered, "Oh I bet that burned his pants the little arsewart."

"I think it stung more than the broken nose." They wandered into the kitchen. "They are both staying here for the moment so later on you can see Sherlock if you want, give him a piece of your mind...Though don't be too hard on him, you are one of the few people he truly cares about and my brother is...fragile right now."

"I've abused the wall and furniture, I've gotten it out of my system. What's happened with him?" Even knowing that Sherlock was probably centuries older than he was, he still thought of him as a sort of adopted son so if something was wrong, he wanted to know.

"I'm sorry Greg but I can't talk to you about it, Sherlock is already extremely annoyed with me at the moment. I'm just hoping that Dr. Watson will be the one to put things right...I'm placing my faith with him." Mycroft's tone was serious.

"Mikey, Gregory. Welcome to my kitchen." Hetty hurried over and kissed both their cheeks, pinching Mycroft's cheek gently. "Sit, sit, food will be over in a second."

Greg chuckled warmly and gave her a hug, "For a lady who was Mycroft's nanny you look very, very good for your age Ms. Hettie."

She turned a speculative eye on Mycroft. "So you finally told your man here, about time." Hettie hugged Greg back. "A woman never speak about her age but rest assured I'm not too old to turn you over my knee if you mention my age again, compliment or not." She patted him on the back and guided him toward the table.

"Just some tea for me please Hettie." Mycroft sat down and ignored his ex-nanny's worried glance.

Greg settled down and studied his lover. He'd be asking some more questions about that look later, when they were in private. "Alright, vampires and vampire hunters, anything else I should know about?"

"You mean besides witches, warlocks, dryads, shifters, oracles and everything else that goes bump in the night? Nah I think you've got everything pretty much covered." Mycroft grinned at him until Hettie slapped the back of his head and placed Greg's food and Mycroft's tea in front of them. "Don't you tease the boy Mikey, or I'll tell him all about the time I told you about the tooth fairy."

Greg's lips twitched and he hid it by taking a drink of water. "So if I've read about it in classic mythology, it's probably out there then. Good to know." He wondered about that story though and pondered how he could get Hettie to tell him anyway.

"There's plenty more in this world that's noticed at first glance and that is the way most of us non humans want it." Mycroft did ease up on the teasing though, he knew Hettie well enough to know she would have no problem following through on her threat and that was one story he didn't want told.

"Well so long as no one's leaving behind corpses then I'm not going to worry. Hettie it looks delicious, as always," he speared a ravioli with a fork and popped it in his mouth, an expression of pure enjoyment crossing his face. He had to remind himself to eat slowly after his day of one chip butty and more coffee than was strictly healthy.

"You should move in Gregory, that would save you all those awful commutes and I would cook for you everyday." Hettie beamed at him from where she was puttering about the kitchen.

If Mycroft could have blushed he would have. "Hettie..."

"Don't Hettie me Mikey, it's what you want and it is the sensible thing as well."

"Hettie you're wonderful, but let's let Mycroft ask me in his own time hm?" Greg gave her a smile and forked up more ravioli. If Mycroft asked, if he ever decided he wanted to and was ready, Greg would move in with him in a heartbeat.

"Waiting for Mikey to get his arse out of the cart when it doesn't have to do with the council or country is like watching toenails grow." She wiped her hands on her apron.

"Thank you Hettie, kind and considerate as always." Mycroft sipped his tea. "Now go spend some time with that husband of yours before he comes looking."

Hettie made a face but left the kitchen after making sure everything was in order.

Greg was just grinning at his lover, "You know I really, really enjoy seeing you mothered. It's cute."

"Yes because cute is what every man goes for, especially after having confessed their undying love earlier." Mycroft took another sip of tea. "She's not wrong though, she rarely is. I would love to have you move in here with me...Not until this Moriarty mess is solved though, there is still a gun pointed at you." A fact that made Mycroft almost livid with urge to protect his mate, to keep him safe.

"Oh yippie. How fast can we get it unpointed at me? I never have liked being on the wrong end of a gun."

"We're working on it, John was out interviewing some people close to Carl Powers earlier today. It appears Moriarty had or has a younger brother who is very protective of. A younger brother named James Murray." Mycroft placed his teacup on its saucer. "We need to find out if Moriarty is alive or not, it's difficult to move forward until we know that."

"The fucker might still be alive? Is he a...how'd you put it...a non-human?" Greg's brows were drawn together in consternation.

"No, just a psychotic, evil son of a bitch smart enough to calculate how to shoot himself in the head and survive." Mycroft's voice was cold, he couldn't forget or forgive how Moriarty had played him. "As far as we know Moriarty doesn't know about vampires, or at least not that Sherlock is one. He would have made him do something worse than jump if he'd known."

"Bastard...wait James Murray?" He closed his eyes and tilted his head trying to remember, "That name was in the file, during the bombing cases when we were trying to find who could have killed Powers. Passed him over due to a bloody good alibi, hospital, massive epileptic seizure the week before. Had him laid up for three weeks according to the file."

Mycroft tapped his fingers against the table top. "If Powers bullying had something to do with James Murray getting that seizure, even by accident then I can guarantee that Moriarty would make him pay." He jotted down this information in his mind to make sure it would be properly investigated later on.

"You'll have to get someone to ask him then," Greg opened his eyes and drank some more water, "He's a professor at King's, teaches mathematics."

"King's College?" That was a surprise to Mycroft and to be quite honest he was getting sick and tired of surprises now. "I'll have to send in my sources then, unless Sherlock wants John to do it, he can be so stubborn you know." He exchanged a look of camaraderie with Greg.

"Oh yeah, as a bloody mule." He reached across and trailed his fingers over Mycroft's jaw, "Even you can't know everything cariad, and there's bound to be a few more unpleasant surprises before this whole mess is settled. Have to be considering the nasty bastard that started it all."

"I am supposed to know everything, that's why I have the position I have. If words gets out there are plenty of people with eyes on my spot." Mycroft wasn't complaining, he knew how to hold his own. He was only telling his lover a bit about vampire politics, expect a knife to the back at any time.

"Much as I hate thinking about anyone coming after you, they'd be very, very stupid to. The way you move sometimes," one corner of his mouth kicked up, "usually when you're angry, it's like watching a leopard stalk along a branch and get ready to drop down on unsuspecting prey. Not to mention any moron would have to get through your security detail first."

"Oh I'm not planning on surrendering my place at the top without one hell of a fight. Just telling you what's what." Mycroft smiled at Greg.

"Alright then," Greg enjoyed seeing Mycroft's smile, even when it was the shark smirk. "Sherlock probably won't want John going to speak to Murray though. Not if he thinks Moriarty'll have someone watching his brother."

"My brother's courting of his doctor is a strange one indeed, for the both of them. They need to be knocked up and woken in a tiny place sance clothing." Mycroft heaved a heavy sigh. "You are right though, Sherlock won't let John go. Luckily I have plenty of people in my employ that MorĂ­arty shouldn't be aware of."

"They'll stop dancing round each other eventually, that or drive you to be the one knocking them out and dumping them somewhere." Greg chuckled because he imagined that was how it would play out sooner rather than later.

"If I do then you'll get to help me carry the bodies." Mycroft's smile was lighter now, though he wished Greg would hurry up and finish his mean. After telling Greg his secrets he was still somewhat needy and he would really like to hold his lover close.

"Mycroft, I would help you hide the bodies if you wound up killing someone." He meant it. Maybe not with a smile on his face but he would do it. He forked up his last bite of ravioli and made quick work of chewing and swallowing, having seen the look flicker through his lover's eyes.

"I know you would...I would too you know. Any problem that hurt you and I would make it disappear before you even asked me to." Mycroft was aware that sounded stalkerish and slightly creepy but that was how it was. Greg was his mate and Mycroft would always look out for him any way he could.

Greg got to his feet and held out his hand, "Come on, let's go to bed."

Mycroft didn't hesitate to take Greg's hand and twine their fingers together as got up from his own seat. He was very much for the going to bed idea.

He pulled Mycroft closer and headed back to his quarters. After they'd passed the third person who's eyes had nearly popped out of their head he looked over at his lover in amusement, "Am I ruining your reputation?"

Mycroft snorted. "Hardly, they are probably jealous, if I hear anything other than that they will soon find themselves lacking phalanges needed to hold hands." There were considerably fewer people watching them after that.

Greg just grinned, "God I love you." He waited until they were back in Mycroft's quarters to kiss him though. No need to murder his lover's reputation as an evil iceman more in one evening than he already had.

"I love you too, now that I've said it, I'm not able to stop. I love you Gregory Lestrade." Mycroft slowly moved them both toward the bedroom but he was constantly distracted along the way by kisses and touched and too, too many clothes in the way of him being able to run his hands over Greg's skin.

The DI just shrugged out of his jacket then pulled his shirt off over his head. He'd long since been aware of Mycroft's need for skin to skin contact, whether it was sex or not, and he was happy to fulfill it. He stroked his hand over Mycroft's cheek and ran his fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck as he let Mycroft walk him back to the bedroom.

Mycroft pushed him backwards until Greg's knees hit the high rim of Mycroft's giant bed. He took very good care unfastening and pulling off Greg's trousers and pants and then he went down on his knees and did the same for Greg's socks. Folding them neatly and placing them next to the bed. Tonight was not about sex, Mycroft wasn't sure he could handle sex without biting right now so all he wanted to do was hold Greg without any hindrance between them.

He watched Mycroft strip down, scooted onto the bed, and held out one arm. "Come here baby." He drew the vampire against him when Mycroft crawled up onto the bed, wrapped his arms around his lover tight so they were well and truly plastered against each other.

Mycroft arranged it so that they were entwined as could be. He pulled Greg completely on top of him, it made Mycroft feel safe, made him feel at home.

Greg kissed the hollow under Mycroft's ear and nuzzled the lobe tenderly as his fingers wiggled lazily against the skin of his lover's waist and shoulder. Pressed against him like this, and having seen him naked, it dawned on Greg that Mycroft had lost weight, a little too much for his tastes. "You're not dieting again are you?"

Mycroft hummed into the touches and thought about what to say, he couldn't lie to Greg but he didn't want to tell him the truth either, not yet, not when things were good between them. He ran his hands up and down Greg's back. "After everything you've learnt tonight, you're actually asking if I'm dieting?"

"You've lost weight," his fingers ran over Mycroft's ribs, "So either you're dieting or just not eating."

"It's nothing Greg, as you can see I'm still here and still healthy." He rubbed his nose in the hollow behind Greg's back and continued to caress Greg's back.

He knew a conversational brick wall when he heard one so he just continued his gentle touches, "Alright I'll drop it for now but if you lose too much weight we're going to revisit the conversation baby."

"Mmmm, kay." Once Greg dropped the weight conversation, Mycroft turned into warm, pliable goo underneath his lover.

Greg just smiled and settled into content quiet with his lover. He wondered what Mycroft would do if he ever told him he was like a very cuddly kitten when he was practically melted beneath him. He probably didn't really want to know truth be told. He pressed a kiss to one of Mycroft's shoulders and closed his eyes. He knew he'd be dropping off into sleep quickly, a long tedious day made for intense exhaustion. No wonder Sherlock was always so pissy. He hoped he'd manage to catch the bloody git before he had to leave for work but if he didn't he'd snag him eventually and tell him exactly how big of a little bastard he was before hugging him to death.

To be continued…