Chapter Text
Greg was allowed to walk right in.
At that time of night, the offices down the long corridor were empty and dark.
The office building was hollow in the way that an empty space will echo the slightest noise.
Even the slight hum of the lights rang out.
Greg walked past the P.A.
She looked from her phone only long enough to see him.
She didn’t try to stop him.
She looked busy.
He didn’t stop.
Greg went right for the doorknob.
Greg walked into Mycroft’s office and released the door as he walked passed it.
He stopped dead in his tracks five steps in.
It took him that long for his brain to catch up with his moving feet.
Greg stared.
The door closed softly behind him.
Mycroft was sitting at his desk. He sat back in his chair until he was almost horizontal and then popped up with a ‘clunk’ sound.
Then, Mycroft would lean back again.
‘Clunk.’
The man was staring off into the wood paneling of his office wall, but didn’t seem to see anything.
‘Clunk.’
He hadn’t even noticed that someone had walked into his office.
“Mr. Holmes,” Greg said trying to be respectful.
Nothing.
“Mr. Holmes.”
‘Clunk.’
Still nothing.
“Mycroft!”
The dazed man went still.
His expensive chair stopped.
Mycroft slowly turned to find Greg standing in his office.
Mycroft looked suddenly confused. A moment later Mycroft’s face reddened.
Then, he simply looked angry.
Greg didn’t worry until the anger fell off the man’s face and he was left with a blank face, bland, and without emotion.
“I called out several times. Are you alright? Do you need something?”
Without thinking, Mycroft replied, “An Italian, a Czech, or a Pole?”
Greg instantly smirked. “That sounds like the start of a joke.”
Mycroft angrily snapped out harshly, “Do I sound as if I’m joking?”
Greg was instantly taken aback. That was the first time that he’d ever heard Mycroft bark out in uncontrolled anger. Even Sherlock had to work hard to get the man to waste time with emotional nonsense.
Greg nodded once and asked, “Is dual citizenship good enough?”
Mycroft went still.
Slowly, he stood.
Carefully, Mycroft said, “Your mother was Italian. Wasn’t she?”
“And I still have dual citizenship? Mama insisted. She always liked going back to visit family. That reminds me, I should call my Great Aunt. The old girl like a call now and then. I’ve been remiss.”
Mycroft inhaled audibly as he stared at Greg.
Carefully, Mycroft exhaled as he said, “Detective…
The air failed him, as did his words.
When he tried again, Mycroft said, “Gregory…
And then the sound faded.
Mycroft looked around as if the words had fallen out onto the floor.
Carefully, Greg said, “If I can help. I will.”
Mycroft took a deep breath and visibly gathered himself. He straightened his back.
He even ran his fingers through his hair because popping his chair back and forth had mussed it.
When he was ready, Mycroft stood tall and carefully said, “I need you to not ask me very many questions. Sufficed to say that a…situation has gotten the upper hand over me. A rare enough occurrence that it has boxed me in. A legal association with someone of one of these three nationalities would allow me the legal ability to handle this.”
Greg stood by waiting.
Mycroft thought for a long moment. Finally, he said, “You are friends with my brother. You don’t mind him much. I will press upon you to extend this thing called friendship to me as well.”
Greg smiled. “You’re saying a lot of words but you haven’t really said anything yet. Haven’t asked for anything either.”
Mycroft smiled a small bland smile.
The smile didn’t last long.
It waned away slowly.
Mycroft put his hands behind his back. He took a breath and finally admitted, “You must marry me. At least for a few months. It would immensely helpful.”
Without hesitation, Greg said, “Okay.”
They looked at each other.
When it occurred to him, Greg asked, “Do you mean like now?”
Mycroft answered by leaned closer to his desk and pressing a button. “I have a solution, Anthea. Get a marriage agreement ready between myself and…my friend, Gregory Lestrade.”
When Mycroft straightened himself up, Greg asked, “Do you actually need me to do anything?”
“Sign papers,” Mycroft responded quickly. “This will be a paper marriage. No one outside of this office will know. When my….project is over, I will contact you for an annulment. I will take care of any tax issues.”
Greg nodded.
Then, Greg wandered over the couch and sat down to wait.
Mycroft looked much happier when he returned to his desk.
He set about working for a few long moments before it occurred to the man to turn and ask, “I forgot to ask, did something happen?”
Greg realized that he’d forgotten too.
Greg smiled crookedly and said, “Yes and no. Your brother got a little banged up. Nothing serious. John is with him. Mrs. Hudson promised to take him some soup.”
Mycroft turned away and continued his work.
Greg sat back and tried to relax as he waited.
The PA arrived soon enough.
She offered him a small stack of papers as she sat.
“Detective Inspector, do you have a home?”
“Yes,” he answered easily.
“No children,” she asked as she typed something into her phone.
“No,” he answered.
He watched as she typed something else.
“What are we doing?” Greg asked.
“Legal questions,” she supplied. “You are both going to be legally wed. Marriage creates legal responsibilities and benefits.”
“Anthea,” Mycroft called from his desk without looking up. “We shall be filing our taxes separately this year. Do make sure that we pay any taxes owed.”
“Next of kin? Which includes all medical decisions,” Anthea asked.
“Yes,” Mycroft replied. “For the duration I’d rather list him than my brother.”
She turned to him.
Greg said, “Sure. I don’t have any family.”
She typed something onto her phone.
When Anthea looked up it was asked, “Do you have a written Will, Detective Inspector?”
“No. But I don’t have much, especially since the divorce. Besides, I don’t have anyone to leave it too.”
She then informed him, “While you are legally married you have the Right of Inheritance and so will Mr. Holmes.”
Greg simply shrugged.
Greg signed and initialed all of the papers that had been set in front of him.
When he was done, she walked away with the stack in front of him.
Five minutes later a bland looking man walked in. A quintessential office drone with a small booklet in his hand.
“Mr. Holmes,” the man said respectfully. “If you please, sir.”
Mycroft bothered to look up.
Mycroft bothered to get up from his desk.
Mycroft came to stand in front of them.
The little office drone began the wedding.
Their wedding.
It took Greg a moment to realize that they were getting married.
Despite the situation, it still caught him a little off guard.
When it was over, they were pronounced wed.
The office drone didn’t mention a kiss.
Instead, Mycroft held out his hand and smiled.
Greg didn’t hesitate to extend his hand and to shake. A firm and congratulatory handshake followed.
Mycroft even sounded cheerful and quite happy as he said, “I very much appreciate this. Thank you.”
Greg only nodded.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
It was later in the day that Greg received a text message.
In his phone, he had no number for Mycroft Holmes.
What he had was something that had simply appeared one day on his phone. The entry in his contacts simply said, The Assistant.
The number itself was restricted.
Whenever he received a message there was an icon of a Union Jack that came up.
He had no other information.
And really, he didn’t want more information than was necessary.
The text that he received was simple.
: Coffee? A thank you is in order.
Greg smirked and replied: Sure.
: After work? 5?
An address followed.
It wasn’t far from work. Somewhere between Greg’s office and Mycroft’s.
By some Grace of Glory, Greg got out of work on time. He drove to the meeting place and walked in and froze.
The place was upscale. It looked like the kind of place that took its coffee and tea very seriously. There was a refrigerated creamer bar longer than his kitchen counter. There were many amenities that could be added to one’s drink. From whipped cream to sauces.
Moms in yoga pants, yuppies, and bourgeoisie dressed ironically wasn’t what he’d expected.
Greg spotted Mycroft instantly. He was sitting at a table off to one side. There were several small cups waiting on the table.
Greg walked over and sat down. The questions were visible on his face.
“I know,” Mycroft said disdainfully. “It isn’t at all the kind of place that I frequent either. However.”
Mycroft pushed one of the small cups closer to Greg saying, “Try the coffee and you will understand. While I prefer a good English tea. One dreary day, I’d had a difficult night and required a significant amount of caffeine. An intern was sent out. I was impressed.”
Greg wasn’t sure. Still, he raised the cup and deeply inhaled. The coffee was…different.
He took a sip and was instantly taken aback.
“It’s a combination of the beans and the high-end, Italian coffee machine that they use.” Mycroft spread his hand across the array of small cups saying, “As a coffee connoisseur, I knew that you’d appreciate a flight of their different offerings.”
With that Mycroft picked up a cup and sipped.
“Mycroft,” Greg said staring at the small cup in his hand. “Is this only coffee? Cause I’m tasting, something like malt.”
Mycroft nodded, and held up his cup saying, “I get notes of caramel and a pleasant aftertaste. Each one will have something different for you.”
Greg tasted each small cup. He enjoyed each for different reasons. Long notes of coffee. The taste of chocolate or caramel on the back end of the coffee. There was a wild variation in what he tasted and sensed as he sipped.
It was the most fun he’d had in months.
Finally, he picked up one of the cups and said, “This is the winner. Good taste. Full body. The aftertaste is fantastic.”
Greg nodded and added, “Alright, I know understand why you chose this place.”
Greg even waved his hand around and said, “All this is easily ignored now.”
Mycroft dramatically clutched at his chest saying, “I’m forgiven. How wonderful.”
Mycroft instantly dropped the act and continued to say, “Speaking of things needing forgiveness. How is my wayward brother?”