AN: I do not own any recognizable characters. OH MY GOD, I've updated! I apologize for the wait and, if there's anyone out there who's still reading this, I swear, It WILL be finished. It simply, probably will not be updated with any kind of regularity. I'm nearing the introduction of everyone's favorite army doctor though, so please, stay tuned!

Silence reins in the house as Gregory stares at Mycroft and Mycroft stares right back. Both men start as a sound reaches them from the top of the stairs and they turn as one to see what it is.

Sherlock, arms crossed over his chest, is leaning with one hip on the bannister and very obviously, silently laughing at them. The sound that they heard was a scoff, just an involuntary exhale of breath through throat and sinuses, but it's the first sound Sherlock has made since he begged for death. Mycroft is so relieved that he forgets Gregory is even standing there. In the two weeks since that awful day when Sherlock begged to die, Mycroft had begun to worry that, just perhaps, Sherlock's silence was not voluntary.

His eyes grow momentarily misty, to his horror. Mycroft turns suddenly and faces the wall, unable to contain his joy, and the emotions showing it. He swallows hard as a hand cups his elbow and turns him back around to face the new DI. Gregory has sympathy in his eyes and Mycroft allows it for a moment before forcing his face into a more acceptable mask. Sherlock is at the bottom of the stairs, heading for the box of case files that had been unceremoniously dumped on the floor.

Gregory steps back and Mycroft misses the feel of his hand immediately. He snorts aloud, mentally berating himself for the situation with his brother and how it seems to be making him sentimental. He squares his shoulders and looks only at Sherlock; resolutely not at Gregory. He most certainly does not remark upon the way that his anger at Mycroft and is fondness for Sherlock reflect upon his handsome face. Nor does he note that his skin is markedly paler tan it had been just two weeks ago, or that he has new lines on his forehead.

Sadly, Mycroft thinks to himself, it only makes the man more attractive. He always did have a thing for older men. He clears his throat and looks at the two men in the room.

"Chef Thomas must have finished setting out dinner. Let us head into the dining room. Sherlock, you owe me another meal before you can have that." He flushed a bit, feeling like a parent scolding a naughty child in front of company, and headed into the dining room.

The meal begins silently and stiffly; Mycroft inwardly rolls his eyes and heads to the sideboard to fetch a bottle of brandy. He pours a drink for himself and for Gregory, ignoring Sherlock's pointed look at being skipped over.

"When you prove yourself able to enjoy in moderation Sherlock, then I shall pour for you as well." Sherlock huffs a bit and squirms in his chair, but stays stubbornly silent and continues to eat. Mycroft shared an indulgent smile with Gregory, who raises his glass in salute.

"Little brothers are like nothing else." Mycroft tipped his glass in response and took a sip, allowing the flavor to roll over his tongue and permeate his sinuses. He reseated himself and began to dig into his own meal. He didn't see the speculative look that Gregory shot him.

"I apologize Mycroft, I know you were trying to show your appreciation the only way that you know how. Sherlock has told me enough about your childhoods…I do understand. I just hate that all the people that I have to work with, the people that are supposed to support, trust and respect me, think I got this job because I slept with you. Not that it would be a bad thing if I had, but…" Gregory's eyes go wide and cheeks take on an alarming shade of pink when he realized what he'd said. Mycroft and Sherlock took on identical inquiring looks, waiting for him to go on. He was so amusing.

"Oh fuck, this is not how I wanted to sound… I sound like an idiot. Sherlock, can I have a minute with your brother?" Sherlock laughed silently, made a show of wiping his lips on his napkin and slowly getting up from the table, going so far as to push in his chair before leaving the room. He winked at Gregory as he passed him.

"Gregory, I assure you that, despite your enchanting rambling, I did understand what you were trying to say. I suppose I should apologize as well. You should know, however, that had you not deserved the promotion, you would not have gotten it. I may occupy a minor position in the government, but that does not mean that I always get what I want." Gregory laughs aloud.

"Minor position…Mycroft, please do not think I am one of your minions who will accept anything that you tell me. You are so much more than a minor anything. That's not the point, and I thank you and forgive you. As to the rest of it…well, would you, maybe, like to get dinner with me sometime? We will leave it open-ended, cuz neither one of us really can make plans out but…um, yeah. What do you think?" Gregory is flushed again and it is the most charming thing that Mycroft has ever seen.

Before he can stop himself he leans forward across the table and places a light kiss on the older man's oh-so-temping lips. Just the barest brush of skin, but he can feel tiny sparks throughout his whole body. Mycroft smiles brightly.

"I think that I would like nothing more than to have a dinner out with just you." Gregory gives a goofy, happy smile and Mycroft leans forward to brush their lips together again. They hear a crash in the hallway and jump up, rushing into the foyer.

Sherlock is on the floor, the box of case files open beside him and a large, red marker in his hand. The sound they heard was the lid of the box, having been thrown across the large space and hitting the wall. Sherlock had scrawled the words "bumbling, incompetent idiots" across the top of it. Mycroft handed the lid to Gregory, who barked out a laugh before he could stop himself.

"Sometimes yeah, they are, but I have to work with them, so let's try not to antagonize too much, okay Sherlock?" He crouched down, placing the lid on the ground to see what Sherlock was doing. It looked, much to the DI's surprise, that he'd already solved six of the 2 dozen cold cases in the box.

The outside of the 'solved' files, had Sherlock's distinctive handwriting on them. There was everything ranging from simple statements, "if brother has green ladder arrest brother" to long, rambling sentences that didn't make immediate sense to Gregory. He arched an eyebrow and turned to look up at Mycroft, who had such a look of love and fondness on his face that Gregory nearly kissed him again. He shifted and stood up.

"Sherlock, you need to pace yourself. No more tonight, go play your violin for an hour and I'll bring the box into my study for the morning." Sherlock looked mutinous and for just a moment, Mycroft thought he was going to have a fit.

Instead, just to be contrary, he gracefully stood up from the floor, dusted off the knees of his trousers, turned up his nose and walked away. Mycroft let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. On the one hand, Sherlock's fits were something truly awful to handle. On the other hand, Sherlock would have had to talk to have one. Mycroft handed Gregory the solved case files and lifted the box of the others, gesturing for the other man to follow him.

They headed down the hallway in companionable silence until they reached the study. Mycroft put the box down on one of the side tables and was unprepared for Gregory to grab his arm and spin him around for a proper kiss. He felt the older man's hands sliding down his back before cupping and squeezing his ass, bringing them closer together. He squeaked, and was about to break away from Gregory's hungry kiss when he heard and answering growl in the other man's chest. Mycroft sagged into Gregory's hold and reached up to cup the back of his head.

Gregory pulled back, placing soft kiss after soft kiss on his lips before pulling back long enough to open his eyes and look him in the face. Mycroft was certain that he had a goofy look on his face like some cartoon character, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He'd not had a relationship in a long time; decent physical contact in even longer.

"Sorry, I couldn't help myself. You're just fucking irresistible." Gregory drawled at him. Mycroft felt his heart rate increase at the words and the tone coming from the other man. He smiled up at him.

"I find that I return the sentiment." Gregory responded with another thorough pawing of his backside. Mycroft arched his back and went up on his toes to keep in contact with the other man. Gregory growled again, flexing his hips and allowing them both to feel the friction between their clothed erections. Mycroft closed his eyes and pushed on the older mans' chest gently to break the embrace.

"As much as I would love to partake in what I think is being offered; I hope you realize that I am not a cheap date. The rest of our activities will have to wait until after we have had a proper date; outside of this house and Sherlock's impeccable hearing." Mycroft wrinkled his nose in distaste at the thought of Sherlock crashing their date. Gregory laughed.

"Yeah, I figured as much; you're too posh for a pawing. Okay, well, you have your assistant call my office in the morning, I should get going. I'm gonna take the ones that he solved; keep the rest and you can return them as he goes. I've got nearly a whole damn warehouse of unsolved cases, so he'll never be bored." Mycroft mumbles something encouraging but unintelligible even to his own ears as he escorts Gregory back to the front door.

They share another few chaste kisses at the door before it opens to let Gregory out into the night. HE smiles at Mycroft and steps away. Mycroft closes the door behind him with a small smile on his face; and looks right into Sherlock's eyes.

"Oh, stop it." Mycroft is horrified to feel a blush creep up his cheeks. His brother's smile gets larger as he positively leers at him and for the first time, Mycroft is thankful that Sherlock isn't speaking.

"Yes, yes, all right. Make fun all you want Sherlock, it changes nothing. If you aren't even willing to open your mouth and speak then I shall not put up with your teasing. I'm not a child anymore and neither are you." Sherlock's smile dims a bit, but comes back full force as he lifts a brand-new smartphone up to their eye level. Mycroft's phone chirps in his pocket.

Greg and Mycroft, sitting in a tree…SH. Mycroft laughs before he can stop himself.

"Well, Sherly, maybe you are still a child." The laughing increases as Sherlock storms upstairs.