After Serbia (Mystrade- BBC Sherlock) Ch 10/10

[cally]

After finishing my last longer piece, I immediately started in on this. I wasn't planning on writing anything longer than drabbles, but then this happened, and I honestly think that it is going to be longer than a 2 part drabble, hence it's posting here. I shouldn't even be writing right now with how far behind I am in everything else, but once it got in my head, I couldn't get it out!

After Serbia

Sherlock had been back from the dead less than a week, and already so many things had happened. He had been reunited with all his friends; friends he had sacrificed his life in so many ways to protect. Well, I say reunited . . .

While the two brothers were not necessarily close, Mycroft was relieved that his younger brother was back amongst the living. It was far easier to keep track of his whereabouts in London, rather than when he was gallivanting around the globe dismantling Moriarty’s web.

Sherlock’s return aside, the past few days had not been exactly easy for Mycroft. He had to make amends with his partner for hiding Sherlock’s subterfuge. In the grand scheme of things, it was worth a few sleepless nights without Gregory by his side, to have had him protected from the sights of a sniper more than two years ago. Right now, Mycroft could not imagine life without him.

In the meantime, he had paperwork to attend to. Bringing someone back from the dead wasn’t exactly an easy task and it required many forms to be filled out. In triplicate. However, it was a job he excelled at, so he sat himself at his desk and continued the tedious process.

There was another reason he was attending to such a task at the moment. It was one that allowed him to work from home; Sherlock’s return wasn’t exactly a state secret. The main reason he was home, instead of in his office or at the Diogenes Club, was because he was rather spectacularly under the weather.

MmmmINGHtigh’sh! INGH’ish!

Mycroft expertly stifled a pair of sneezes, as if thinking about being ill caused the symptoms to be exacerbated. He rubbed his nostrils, pinched between his long fingers, trying to alleviate the persistent tickle that had been a cornerstone of his illness.

He despised legwork. Not just because of the noise, the people. Mycroft shuddered involuntarily. He despised it most as he always, always became ill upon his return no matter what precautions he took: no matter how many times he washed his hands, no matter how much vitamin C he ingested.

With a nearly inaudible sigh, he picked up his pen; ready to continue the tedium of administrative tasks. Before he could start, he heard the clink of mugs, and knew that Gregory was home.

His partner entered his office with a tray consisting of two steaming mugs of tea and a plate of biscuits. “Thought you could use a cuppa,” he said as he came in. Gregory scrutinized the British government for a moment. “I was right.” He placed the tray down on the coffee table, and Mycroft stood to join him.

The change in physical perspective shifted the contents of Mycroft’s irritated sinuses and he barely managed to stifle a wrenching sneeze into his wrist.

ING’SHHHHH!

The tickle didn’t relent and Mycroft found himself scrambling to locate his handkerchief within his pocket in between hitching breaths that taunted him with release.

He finally managed to fumble the cloth from within the recesses of his trouser pocket just before the flurry of overwhelmingly uncontrollable sneezes wracked his body, nearly doubling him over.

Heh’INGTISH! Heh’TSSSCHH! Huh’tishhhhhngxtsh! MmmmINGHtighsh! Mmmpftish! INGHtighsh!

“Goodness! God bless you, love!” Gregory put a comforting arm around his lover and led him the few short steps to the leather sofa.

“Thag you, Gregory. By abologies,” Mycroft croaked out stuffily before blowing his nose. His head was spinning from the congestion and he was grateful for Gregory’s reassuring comfort.

Gregory frowned at his partner. He wasn’t a stranger to Mycroft’s bouts of illness or hayfever, but this cold seemed to have taken an awful lot out of him. He was unsure if it had to do with the travel, or the circumstances, or both, but Mycroft seemed unusually weary and was spending a tremendous amount of effort to appear in control.

Once Mycroft had pulled himself together, Gregory pressed a hot, steaming mug of tea into his hands, hoping it would provide some semblance of relief along with his presence.

Edited December 31, 2014 by cally

[bangbang]

OMG this is excellent. I was so excited when you mentioned your idea in your last thread and I am so so happy you got it up this fast!

I love that you mentioned the fact that Mycroft lied to Greg - it's something that often gets glossed over and I am so happy you addressed it.

The cold... Oh, poor Mycroft, no wonder he hates legwork if he comes down with something so terrible every time. The image of him pinching his nostrils and rubbing them to try and stop the tickle is just lovely. The sneezy thing is so miserable.

Greg's rearrival is great, I love how his presence makes Mycroft feel better immediately. Although I feel like Mycroft trying to hide his symptoms more than usual is perhaps a bad sign for how he's feeling about everything - lingering guilt over keeping Greg in the dark, perhaps?

As always, your descriptions are so so lovely and I am really looking forward to seeing where this is going.

[Skyler]

I always get excited when I see fiction by you This is great!

[AngelEyes]

A new story! I admit I may have Squeed in delight when I saw it listed.

In the meantime, he had paperwork to attend to. Bringing someone back from the dead wasn’t exactly an easy task and it required many forms to be filled out. In triplicate. However, it was a job he excelled at, so he sat himself at his desk and continued the tedious process.

This is just so very, very Mycroft.

I like that Greg was upset enough about being lied to that they slept apart, and Mycroft feels it was totally worth it for him to be protected. Also that he didn't sleep when Greg wasn't there. Awww.

“Thought you could use a cuppa,” he said as he came in. Gregory scrutinized the British government for a moment. “I was right.”

He knows his love so well.

Yay! So excited!!!

[Spoo]

This fic looks great so far! I'm loving the domesticity already. Poor Mycroft, though. He can never catch a break (only a cold ).

rather spectacularly under the weather

Also, this? I l really like the way it was phrased~

[cally]

OMG this is excellent. I was so excited when you mentioned your idea in your last thread and I am so so happy you got it up this fast!

I pretty much started right away.

I love that you mentioned the fact that Mycroft lied to Greg - it's something that often gets glossed over and I am so happy you addressed it.

It's going to be a bit of a running undercurrent here; there are SO many issues that the entire situation brings up that are so hard to address depending on how you see their relationship.

Greg's rearrival is great, I love how his presence makes Mycroft feel better immediately. Although I feel like Mycroft trying to hide his symptoms more than usual is perhaps a bad sign for how he's feeling about everything - lingering guilt over keeping Greg in the dark, perhaps?

He's just overwhelmed at this point, I think. Not to mention sick and exhausted!

As always, your descriptions are so so lovely and I am really looking forward to seeing where this is going.

Thank you!

I always get excited when I see fiction by you This is great!

Awwww thanks!

Yay! So excited!!!

Awwwww!

This fic looks great so far! I'm loving the domesticity already. Poor Mycroft, though. He can never catch a break (only a cold ).

All the domesticity abounds.

Chapter 2

It had been a long few days. Gregory was exhausted not just from the lack of sleep, but also from the emotional upheaval. It was impossible to get a good night’s rest when he was apart from Mycroft, especially apart from him in the same home.

Taking a sip of tea, Gregory risked a covert glance at his partner. Mycroft looked utterly wretched. His pallor was pale and the circles under his eyes were a dark plum. His nose was tinged red from the constant rubbing, blowing, and frequent bouts of sneezing.

Gregory felt awful for the anger he had been feeling over Sherlock’s resurrection, especially once he learned that the sacrifice of both brothers had saved his own life. Sudden tears prickled at the back of his eyes and he quickly blinked them away. On hearing a sharp intake of breath beside him, Gregory turned, swallowing against the unexpected lump in his throat.

Mycroft had barely enough time to put his mug of tea down before he was completely overcome. He had half-covered his nose and mouth with a hand, but it was fruitless. The sneezes were thick, heady, and wet; completely unlike his normal prim and proper stifles.

Hehhhhhh………NNNG’SHHHHH! Gn’TNSGH’SHHHH! TISSSSHH! TNSGH’SHHHH! ING’MMFPTIGHshhhh! Hng’ISSH-OOO!

“God bless you!” Gregory acted quickly, pulling his own handkerchief from his trouser pocket and pressing it into Mycroft’s hands.

Mycroft nodded his thanks, and angled his body away from Gregory as he tended to cleaning himself up and blowing his nose. His shoulders were slumped and he was hunched over, nearly curled in on himself. Gregory felt some of the anger in his chest uncurl and release a bit, seeing how miserable his lover was. Whatever had happened in Serbia, apart from rescuing Sherlock, wasn’t worth Mycroft feeling this unwell.

Mycroft had no sooner cleaned himself up when the tingling irritation started up again. He pressed and curled his forefinger up under his nose, while reaching forward to grasp for the tissues on the coffee table, all while trying to keep his breath from hitching audibly. Tissues in hand, he covered his nose, the sneezy miasma taking over. He was only vaguely aware of Gregory’s warm, comforting hand on his back.

Heh……hhhmmmmpTNSGH’mpff! Gn’TNSGH’SHHHH! HhhshHNGXtishhooo! Heh’TISSSSHH!

“God bless you again, love,” Gregory said softly. He refused to move his hand from Mycroft’s back, even when he tried to turn away.

Mycroft sighed and blew his nose again, a wet squelching sound that had him wincing. “By abologies, Gregory,” he croaked out. He sounded slightly breathless.

The DI gave him a sad smile. “You know you don’t have to apologise,” he said.

Mycroft snuffled into his handful of tissues. He was feeing utterly wretched and wanted nothing more than to retire to his bedroom and curl up next to Gregory. However, he knew that he had to complete the outstanding paperwork to continue to return his dear brother to life. He sat up straight and smoothed down his waistcoat. “Thag you for the tea, Gregory. I bust finish cobpleting these forms,” he said stuffily as he prepared to rise from the couch.

Gregory frowned and ran a hand through his thick, silver hair. He knew that Mycroft hated when he tried to interfere with his work, but in this instance, he knew he needed to interject. “Perhaps they’ll keep until tomorrow? You look done in, love.”

Mycroft stood while Gregory was finishing his plea. His head swam and his sinuses protested the movement; his equilibrium off-balance. He sniffled wetly as he struggled to keep upright. He desperately wanted to press the issue but after the events of the past few days was unsure an argument would be the best course for either of them. He brought his tissue-free hand up and pinched the bridge of his reddened nose as he nodded his assent.

[matilda3948]

Aww! Poor things--I feel bad for both of them.

Sooooo glad you're writing this. I love stories that are linked to the plot of the show and lie like that would put a strain on any relationship.

[bangbang]

A sneezy miasma, hmmm?

Love it when Mycroft can't stifle and his sneezes changing when he's especially ill. And aww, him choosing to give in to Greg (and his cold) to avoid rocking the boat any further is so Mycroft.

[AngelEyes]

Oh Gods. Just bloody brilliant. In all ways. I would be more eloquent but it's ridiculously late. So just, Awwww and Mmmmm.

[AdrianMarx]

Oh my goodness I am freaking out this is wonderful. Awh, my heart is aching for them. Poor things

[Spoo]

Poor Mycroft is really suffering. Those sneezes are fierce! I'm glad he's at least turning in and leaving his paperwork for the following day. It's better than nothing, but he should really rest

[cally]

Sooooo glad you're writing this. I love stories that are linked to the plot of the show and lie like that would put a strain on any relationship.

Thank you. There is going to be quite a strain, sadly.

A sneezy miasma, hmmm?

I couldn't help it!

Love it when Mycroft can't stifle and his sneezes changing when he's especially ill. And aww, him choosing to give in to Greg (and his cold) to avoid rocking the boat any further is so Mycroft.

He's just so miserable and stuffy, the poor thing.

Oh Gods. Just bloody brilliant. In all ways. I would be more eloquent but it's ridiculously late. So just, Awwww and Mmmmm.

Glad you're enjoying!

Oh my goodness I am freaking out this is wonderful. Awh, my heart is aching for them. Poor things

I know- they are in for a rocky ride.

Poor Mycroft is really suffering. Those sneezes are fierce! I'm glad he's at least turning in and leaving his paperwork for the following day. It's better than nothing, but he should really rest

He's utterly losing control, which is like the worst thing ever that can happen to him.

Chapter 3

It took all of Mycroft’s remaining energy to walk up the stairs to their bedroom. He was breathing heavily, nearly wheezing. He paused on the threshold of their room and leaned on the doorjamb, bracing himself as he brought his other hand, the one with the tissues, up to his quivering nostrils.

Ahhh…heh…MmmpfTIGisssshh! Heh……hhhmmmmpTNSGHoooo!

“God bless you,” Gregory said as Mycroft’s breathing dissolved into a harsh burst of coughing. He put a hand on his back, which was far too warm, and guided him into the bedroom.

Mycroft sank down onto the bed and tried to catch his breath. Gregory went into the ensuite and returned with a glass of water. “Here, slowly now.”

Mycroft nodded, concentrating on keeping his breathing even; not an easy task with his wheezing breaths and twitching nose, which he swiped at once again in irritation. “Thag you, Gregory,” he said cooly before sluggishly rising to his feet and beginning to undress for the night. He changed into soft, flannel pajamas and headed into the ensuite.

Gregory also changed for bed. He could hear the sounds of teeth being brushed and water running; then a pill bottle rattled to the floor before a harsh series of muffled sneezes.

Heh’MMMPFTISH! TNSGH’SHHHH! ING’MMFPTIGHshhhh! Heh’TISSSHH!

“God bless you, love,” Gregory called toward the closed door.

There was a croak that sounded like thank you from the other side, but Gregory wasn’t quite sure. He was about to knock on the door to check on Mycroft when the younger man emerged looking weary; his normally neat hair was mussed, his eyes were glassy and bright, and his nose seemed redder than before.

Without really looking at his partner, Mycroft headed towards the bed. “Good dight, Gregory,” he croaked thorough thick congestion, as he moved to get under the duvet.

Gregory looked at his lover in astonishment; he felt he had just been dismissed. Sitting down on the bed, he put his head in his hands in disbelief, the bottled up anger from earlier making an unpleasant return. Maybe this all had been too good to be true and it was coming to its natural end. It wasn’t like he could keep up intellectually with a Holmes, he thought. And he certainly couldn’t be trusted with their secrets, if the past two years was any indication. His thoughts ran together like a primary schooler’s run-on sentence and he could feel his eyes brimming with tears for the second time that evening.

He took a deep, calming breath; the sort that was usually reserved for dealing with Sherlock when he was being an utter prat. Gregory stood, grabbing his mobile that he had set down on the bedside table. And without turning around, he strode to the door. “’Night,” he muttered coldly as he loudly closed the door to their bedroom behind him.

Not really knowing where else to go, Gregory headed down the hall to his own small study. It had been a spare bedroom before he moved in, and still hosted a small bed; in fact it was where he had slept right after Sherlock’s return. He didn’t really have much in here; it was more a place for him to work when he needed no distractions. He much preferred the spaciousness of the living room with its book lined walls, leather couches and fireplace. Pouring himself a drink, he flung himself onto his old, battered sofa and contemplated the demise of his relationship.

[AngelEyes]

Oh No! Poor babies! You need to sit down and talk to each other, get everything out. So Greg can properly care for Mycroft. Because he desperately needs it right now.

[ID2006]

Awwww

[cally]

Oh No! Poor babies! You need to sit down and talk to each other, get everything out. So Greg can properly care for Mycroft. Because he desperately needs it right now.

Apologies in advance for the angst ahead.

Awwww

I may have sobbed while writing this next chapter. Also sorry for the cliffhanger.

Chapter 4

Gregory sat on the old couch for a long time, just staring off into the distance, not actually seeing anything. He finally pulled a faded blanket up and over him, and fell into a fitful, dreamless sleep.

A short time later, he was woken by shouting. He could hear Mycroft calling out, “No, no!” Instantly alert, he ran down the corridor and burst into the bedroom, ready to take on any intruder who dared break into their home.

Instead, he found Mycroft, drenched in sweat, and tangled in the duvet. He was no longer shouting, but was tossing back and forth in their bed. Gregory reached out to him, putting a hand on his arm and Mycroft shot up straight with a final shout. “No!” He looked around the room, panicked, frightened, like a deer in headlights. The look of sheer terror on his face was chilling.

Gregory sank down on to the bed next to Mycroft. He didn’t remove his hand; instead choosing to rub up and down the younger man’s arm. “It’s ok. You’re home. In London. It’s ok,” he whispered into the dark. As much as he wanted to walk away, he couldn’t, not now.

Mycroft was trembling, and Gregory reached over to put his arm around him. But Mycroft held him at arms length. Gregory was suddenly fed up and about to tell him exactly what he thought. Beside him, Mycroft gave a wheezing, ragged intake of breath and sneezed explosively, turning his head as far away from Gregory as possible. The tired DI finally understood why he was being held back as Mycroft sneezed harshly.

Heh……….Heh’INGTISH! Heh’TSSSCHH! Huh’tishhhhhngxtsh! TNSGH’SHHHH! ING’MMFPTIGHshhhh! Hng’ISSH-OOO!

“God bless you.” Gregory reached over to the bedside table and flicked on the light. He then grabbed a handful of tissues and pressed them into Mycroft’s hand. Mycroft gave a grateful nod, and quickly cleaned himself up, tending to his dripping nose.

Gregory studied Mycroft intently. He looked terrible, sleep-mussed and weary. His heart broke for him, for them both. “What’s going on, Mycroft?” This time, he was not able to keep a stray tear from working its way down his stubbled cheek. He angrily dashed it away. “You kept all this from me, and now you’re pushing me away. Is, is it over? Are we over?” Gregory, voice breaking, swiped at his eyes and sniffled in annoyance.

Eyes bright with fever, Mycroft stared at Gregory unbelieving and bewilderede. “I am sorry, Gregory. However, I am afraid I do not understand what you are talking about,” he whispered hoarsely as he snuffled into his handful of tissues.

Gregory looked down at the bed, twisting the duvet in his hands. “You dismissed me tonight. All I wanted to do was comfort you, and you simply dismissed me like I was some minion,” he hissed, but the anger was no longer present. He sighed, resigned.

Mycroft cleared his throat with considerable difficulty. “Gregory.” He reached out his hand toward the older man. “Gregory, please look at me.”

Gregory sadly raised his head and looked up at his partner. He didn’t bother to hide the tears that were about to fall. On seeing Gregory’s expression, Mycroft gasped, and reached out for him. “Oh, my dearest heart. I fear you may have misinterpreted my meaning. I simply did not want to expose you any further to this illness,” he croaked out as audibly as he was able through the thick congestion present. “My ah heh-apologies. Ex-heh-cuse me,” he whispered quickly and turned away once again, his reddened nostrils flaring.

Hehhhhhh………NNNG’SHHHHH! Gn’TNSGH’SHHHH! TNSGH’SHHHH! ING’MMFPTIGHshhhh! Gn’TNSGH’SHHHH! HhhshHNGXtishhooo!

“God bless you!” Gregory reached over for the tissues but found the box was nearly empty. He pressed the remaining ones into Mycroft’s waiting hand and then got up and fetched another box from the ensuite, along with the Night Nurse, and several handkerchiefs.

This time when he re-approached the bed, he got in on his side, and straightening the duvet, slipped in next to Mycroft. He pulled his lover to him and engulfed him in a hug. “I don’t care about some stupid cold,” he said, kissing him on the forehead. He felt Mycroft relax into the embrace and give a half-hearted chuckle. “I believe you will, if you catch this, Gregory,” he rasped hoarsely.

They sat embraced for some time, until their breathing had become more regular, and Mycroft was no longer trembling. Realising that he still did not know why Mycroft had called out, he pressed a kiss to the top of his head. ”What was your nightmare about,” he asked gently, a soft whisper into the fine auburn strands of Mycroft’s hair.

Mycroft instantly froze in his arms.

[matilda3948]

I hope you're writing the next part right now, you delightful tease!

It's sooooo good Cally. Love it!

[AngelEyes]

Yay for the babies making up! Such loveliness!

[bangbang]

If anything happened to Mycroft in Serbia I will be FURIOUS. This better just be usual Mycroft but-Greg-what-if-you-died angst.

And to Greg - you are well allowed to be pissy at him for the lying, but being annoyed about him dismissing you is DUMB. Like, you should know by now that everyone is Mycroft's minions! Just how the world works, hun.

[Spoo]

What happens in Serbia, stays in Serbia in your mind and haunts you forever. I hope it wasn't anything too awful!

And to Greg - you are well allowed to be pissy at him for the lying, but being annoyed about him dismissing you is DUMB. Like, you should know by now that everyone is Mycroft's minions! Just how the world works, hun.

100% agree. I'm still under the firm belief that all Holmes' should come with an instruction manual.

[ellwren]

Can't wait for more!

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

The suspense, the sneezes, the love... I joined the forum specifically to extend my compliments to you (and BangBang and Spoo) for your masterful Mystrade fics. I love it when illness brings people together. Please tell me there is more on the way.

[cally]

Sorry for the delay in getting the next chapter up. Sadly my thesis has taken priority over this!

Can't wait for more!

I'm working on it!

The suspense, the sneezes, the love... I joined the forum specifically to extend my compliments to you (and BangBang and Spoo) for your masterful Mystrade fics. I love it when illness brings people together. Please tell me there is more on the way.

Thank you so much! That's very, very thoughtful and flattering. I'm working on the next bit- I've just been very busy writing my thesis as well!

I was thinking that Spoo, bangbang and I should all co-write a fic together, but then I realised that everyone would just die from the amazingness of it, so probably not a good idea.

[AngelEyes]

Glad to hear you are making progress on the thesis! (Much as I distress the suspense. Lol)

And OMG! A Cally/Spoo/bangbang fic!!!! Inherent brilliance waiting to happen!

[shirin]

He despised legwork. Not just because of the noise, the people. Mycroft shuddered involuntarily. He despised it most as he always, always became ill upon his return no matter what precautions he took: no matter how many times he washed his hands, no matter how much vitamin C he ingested. oh my gooodness this part is just the real deal. cally and mystrade again??just like a dream I LOVE Your Stories movahhhhhhhh

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

Best wishes on the thesis. I completely respect that taking priority. I second AngelEyes. A Cally/Spoo/BangBang collaboration would be awesome.