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

[cally]

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

It's sooooo good Cally. Love it!

I did literally start writing chapter 5 once I finished with this previous chapter; in fact I think I kept writing but chose my chapter break on a cliffhanger.

Yay for the babies making up! Such loveliness!

You may not say that about chapter 5.

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

Define happened. Something definitely happened.

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.

That and a bit of jumbled wires. Mycroft was too ill/tired to fully explain himself, and Gregory let his temper get the better of him (again).

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

Accurate statement is accurate. Erm, define awful?

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

You are funny. My thesis remains devoid of further updates, even after all this time. All the work I have put into the chapter I've been working on has been cut down. I'm pretty much ready to throw the entire thing in the bin and start over.

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

Thank you very much. It is really, really appreciated more than you could imagine.

Best wishes on the thesis. I completely respect that taking priority.

I find myself in need of a time turner or a TARDIS so I can go 3 years back and do this thing correctly from the start. Or not do it at all.

Apologies for the delay in this next chapter. I had never intended to go so long without an update. There had been many days where I was tempted to post what I had written, but I was so unhappy with the chapter as a whole, I just couldn't. I have literally been working on this, here and there, since I posted chapter 4.

Chapter 5

Just the very thought of discussing, even thinking about Serbia had Mycroft panicking; he could feel his heart beating faster already. He had hoped to avoid such conversations; there was no need for Gregory to know the gruesome details of what went on in Serbia.

He felt his chest getting tight and he was suddenly chilled to the bone, almost as if he were actually back within the blasted country itself. A cold sweat broke out across his brow and just as unexpectedly, his breathing pattern changed. His breath came in rapid, shallow pants. He felt lightheaded, vertiginous, and a wave of nausea swept over him instantaneously. Despite the fact he could feel Gregory holding him, grounding him, he feared his body would betray him. His fingers began to tremble.

Mycroft closed his eyes, attempting to quell the rising fear. He took a series of deep, shuddering breaths in an effort regain his customary control. The British Government was no stranger to panic attacks, although he had yet to experience one in front of his beloved. In hindsight, he should have been prepared for such an eventuality given the ferocity of the nightmare he had. The illness had made his thinking foggy; he did not even notice Gregory watching him now, his brow furrowed in worry.

He continued to breathe in through his nose and out through his mouth as much as the thick congestion allowed him to. It was rather unfortunate that said deep breaths resulted in several wet, rapid, punishing sneezes that rocked Mycroft forward. Unprepared, he was only just able to turn his head away from Gregory, as he sneezed into his wrist.

Gn’TNSGH’SHHHH! TNSGH! Heh’NGISH! ING’MMFPTIGHshhhh! Hng’ISSH! Ahhh-hent’ISHHHHOOO!

“Goodness! God bless you again!” Gregory reached over and grabbed the box of tissues. He handed a few to Mycroft, frowning at his appearance. There was clearly more going on here than just a cold.

“Thag you,” he rasped. “I ab sorry for,” he waved a still quivering hand between the two of them before blowing his nose; a series of squelching sounds that sounded woefully miserable.

Gregory bit back a snippy reply; Mycroft knew he didn’t care about possibly catching a cold or anything else. He knew it was futile to say anything on the subject given the hour. And besides, right now he was more concerned about how much Mycroft was shaking.

Once Mycroft was done attending to his dripping nose, Gregory repositioned them so that he was sitting up against the headboard, with Mycroft was sitting between his thighs, his too warm back resting against his chest. This way he could provide the obviously much-needed comfort without adding to Mycroft’s evident self-consciousness.

Mycroft settled back against Gregory’s chest, his warmth and his heartbeat a steadying presence. He breathed in again deeply, and ignoring the congestion in his sinuses, willed himself calm. Squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to ward off the blurred vision and dizziness, he began to speak in a hoarse whisper.

“Sherlock was tortured in Serbia.”

Gregory gasped. “Wait, what?” Instinctively, he pulled Mycroft closer to him, wrapping his arms around Mycroft’s torso.

Mycroft sniffled and rubbed his nose with a fresh tissue. “Sherlock had been captured and since the last of Moriarty’s web had been dealt with, I infiltrated the Serbian cell that was holding him in order to mount a rescue and then bring him home to London. By the time I got there, he had been tortured for ahh!-heh se-hhh . . . ING’SHHHHH! Mmmpftish! INGHtighsh! Heh’HDSCHHhhhh! Mycroft all but shuddered the last, painful sneeze into the tissue clenched between his slender fingers. His head was throbbing again and the pain had blossomed out across his inflamed sinuses.

“God bless you,” Gregory said softly, handing the younger man a fresh handful of tissues from the box he had left beside them on the bed.

“Thag you.” Mycroft snuffled into the new tissues, wincing and frowning at the pain. He desperately hoped it was not another sinus infection, as his breath rapidly hitched once again and he quickly steepled his tissue filled hands over his nose and mouth in advance of a pair of increasingly damp sneezes.

Heh’TISSSHH! Heh’MMMPFTISHooo!

“And again.” Gregory rubbed Mycroft’s back reassuringly. He hated seeing his partner like this, ill, not to mention carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Mycroft did not remove his hands from around his nose; the prickling within his sinuses persisted, leaving him on the brink of a further miasma of sneezes. He gave an irritated sniff and then with his chest rising and falling erratically, involuntarily gave into the ticklish expulsions.

Huh’mffTSChhh! Heh . . huh ING’SHHHHH! Gn’ingxxishhh! Huh’ngtshhhooo!

“God bless you again and again!” Gregory wished there was more he could offer Mycroft other than an elaborate blessing and more tissues.

Mycroft nodded his thanks and plucking yet another handful of tissues from the rapidly depleting box, weakly blew his reddened nose. This sadly gave way to a fit of coughing that left him feeling weaker than before. Each spasm felt like someone was driving railway spikes into his lungs.

He was vaguely aware through his misery and still heightened anxiety that Gregory was rubbing soothing circles along his back. Once again Mycroft wondered how it was possible to have someone so kind hearted and devoted as his partner and lover. He clearly did not deserve such kindness and love. Once the detective inspector heard what else he had to say, he would most likely leave, forever this time. This was probably why his body was betraying him like this, his subconscious working overtime; so that he could enjoy Gregory’s warmth and love for just a bit longer.

Steadying himself, Mycroft closed his eyes against the intensifying light-headedness and frantically clutched at the duvet for support.

“It was me,” he whimpered. “I am the one that held the whip.” A single tear coursed down Mycroft’s pale, ivory cheek as he waited for the inevitable.

[bangbang]

How do I love this? Let me count the ways.

I really like our hivemind here in the Mystrade community - because of course Mycroft is really an anxious, panic-ridden ball of nerves! And of course he always thinks Greg's going to get sick of him! Shared headcanons are great.

Mycroft is sooo sick. Like, shut the f up about Serbia and go to sleep, ohmygod you are going to hospitalise yourself.

Greg is just such a passive, calming presence in this. Like a teddy bear.

I was kinda half-expecting the thing but also not but also like I'm sure just WATCHING bb bro get tortured was hard enough, but having to do it himself? Gah. GAH. CALLY. The guilt! The self-loathing! Someone pass me a spoon cause I am gonna eat this for breakfast.

(Although I am still a fan of the canon assertion that Mycroft was "definitely enjoying it" - not in a bad way, per se, but seeing someone who has frustrated you for SO FRIGGING LONG get their comeuppance must be a tiiiiiny bit satisfying for someone like Mycroft. Especially if Sherlock wasn't in any real danger. But that's just me, because I like my inter-character relationships to be morally ambiguous and deeply fucked up.)

This is so so great (I feel you on the dreaded writer's block, btw) and I cannot WAIT for cuddles to come. (Tell me there are gonna be cuddles to come, yeah? Good.)

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

Oh no! Oh dear! Oh my! Poor Mycroft!! No wonder he feels so awful--physically and mentally. I am really enjoying this twist in the plot. I can't wait for the next installment.

If I had a time turner or a TARDIS I would lend it to you. Don't give up on the thesis. At some point in the process everyone thinks what they are writing is donkey poo.

[Spoo]

Sick, guilty Mycroft. Never the best combination. Poor thing!

[ellwren]

Oh, my poor darlings!

What will happen next?

[matilda3948]

“And again.” Gregory rubbed Mycroft’s back reassuringly. He hated seeing his partner like this, ill, not to mention carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

I love this "add-on" blessing! It just makes me melt. This hurts in all the very best ways.

[AngelEyes]

Oh! The poor baby! The emotional distress he is putting himself through added to his physical illness. Too much! And being convinced Gregory will leave is so not good! Have faith, he loves you! Very distressing indeed.

[cally]

I really like our hivemind here in the Mystrade community - because of course Mycroft is really an anxious, panic-ridden ball of nerves! And of course he always thinks Greg's going to get sick of him! Shared headcanons are great.

I think Mycroft is very complex. I find myself relating to him an awful lot, and tend to give him characteristics I share. I do love that it is a shared thought though, that I'm not the only one who can see that there is more than the "Iceman."

Mycroft is sooo sick. Like, shut the f up about Serbia and go to sleep, ohmygod you are going to hospitalise yourself.

He's miserable. He's exhausted, and he really needs a valium. Is he going to sleep/rest/be comforted? No of course not. That would be too easy.

I was kinda half-expecting the thing but also not but also like I'm sure just WATCHING bb bro get tortured was hard enough, but having to do it himself? Gah. GAH. CALLY. The guilt! The self-loathing! Someone pass me a spoon cause I am gonna eat this for breakfast.

I spent a lot of time thinking about if I was going to go there. And I thought, would it happen on the show? Well yes of course Moftiss would do something like that, so clearly, as it would be in the realm of possibilities, I had to do it too. I think it makes sense, and it really had an effect on Mycroft, and of course on Sherlock.

This is so so great (I feel you on the dreaded writer's block, btw) and I cannot WAIT for cuddles to come. (Tell me there are gonna be cuddles to come, yeah? Good.)

I normally am at my most creative when I am at my most depressed. This was the first time ever that I wasn't able to be creative during a "depression" and it was rather disconcerting. Whether or not the fact I am writing again means I am feeling better, I am unsure, as I certainly do not feel "better." I also do not feel that this writing is especially brilliant either. But I have always been my worst critic, so. . . But yes, there will be cuddles. There are always cuddles at the end.

Oh no! Oh dear! Oh my! Poor Mycroft!! No wonder he feels so awful--physically and mentally. I am really enjoying this twist in the plot. I can't wait for the next installment.

If I had a time turner or a TARDIS I would lend it to you. Don't give up on the thesis. At some point in the process everyone thinks what they are writing is donkey poo.

Thank you. And re: the thesis, it is more of the fact that I have written nothing. I have however, written in Sherlock fanfics here, the equivalent of the number of words I need for my thesis. I wonder if anyone would notice the difference? j/k

Sick, guilty Mycroft. Never the best combination. Poor thing!

He's ill. He feels guilt and remorse and anxious over the entirety of the matter. He obviously knew the risks when "Lazurus" was put in play, but I am fairly sure "torturing your own brother" wasn't part of his contingency plans.

Oh, my poor darlings!

What will happen next?

That's a good question.

I love this "add-on" blessing! It just makes me melt. This hurts in all the very best ways.

He needs a trademark blessing, Gregory does, for all the blessing he does. I should come up with one.

Oh! The poor baby! The emotional distress he is putting himself through added to his physical illness. Too much! And being convinced Gregory will leave is so not good! Have faith, he loves you! Very distressing indeed.

He's sick, stressed, and worried, the poor lamb.

Chapter 6

Mycroft’s brilliant mind was working overtime. He would miss Gregory- who brought chaos to his order and yet he loved him for it all the same. However, before Mycroft’s thoughts could get away from him, he felt himself being manhandled; Gregory was turning him so they could face each other, his warm, strong arms enveloping him like a cocoon.

This innate, selfless kindness and love that Gregory was giving him now (and always gave him) was just too much for Mycroft; he had reached his breaking point. He helplessly collapsed forward into Gregory’s arms and sobbed.

Gregory rubbed Mycroft’s back and kissed the top of his head. As much as he was shocked and taken aback by what he had just been told, it was clear Mycroft needed this release, and he could deal with his emotions on his own time. He continued to murmur soothing words into the top of his lover’s head while his body continued to be wracked by tremors, tears and snuffling breaths.

After a few minutes, the sobbing tapered off; Mycroft was making thick, throaty wheezing sounds and quickly pushed back from Gregory’s embrace. “So—ah heh sorry,” he gasped out before dissolving into a fit of thick, heady sneezes that became more and more helpless and wet as they went on.

huh ING’SHHHHH! Tish! Heh! --Ah-hehhhh Aah! Heh’INGHtighsh! Heh’TSSSCHH! Hng’ISSH-OOO! Ahhh-hent’ISH! Heh’NGISH! NGISHOOO!

Worriedly, Gregory pressed one of the handkerchiefs he had fetched earlier into Mycroft’s hands, hands that were still steepled around his nose and mouth. “God bless you, love. Alright?” He asked, as Mycroft wasn’t moving; just sitting there with slightly laboured breathing.

Hesitant still, as there was an annoying residual tickle lingering within his congested, cold-ridden nostrils, Mycroft nodded, and then changed his mind and shook his head. That slight movement was enough to shift the contents of his irritated, inflamed sinuses, and he erupted into a pair of enormous (for Mycroft) sneezes that bent him nearly double.

Hng’ISSH-OOO! Ahhh-hent’ISHHHHOOO!

“God bless you again,” Gregory said gently as he reached over and thumbed a tear off of Mycroft’s pale cheek.

Mycroft nodded from behind the white cloth and cleared his throat. “Apologies. That was most unpleasant. And thank you, my dear,” he croaked quietly, worn out from the crying and prolonged bout of sneezing. This was par for the course when it came to any illness or allergy that he suffered, but this cold seemed to be far worse somehow. He blew his nose and then slumped down into Gregory’s arms once again.

“Thank you for telling me,” Gregory said quietly, kissing the top of Mycroft’s head. “You don’t have to say anymore if you don’t want to.”

Mycroft rubbed his nose with the edge of the handkerchief. He was tired of the constant prickling within his nostrils. He was tired of feeling miserable. And he was especially tired of sneezing. He rolled his eyes, as his nearly translucent, veined eyelids fluttered shut. He gave a hitching breath and quickly directed the vicious sneezes into the soft cloth that he pressed up to his reddened and damp nostrils.

Heh……….Heh’INGTISH! Heh’NGISH! Mmmpftish! Mmmpftinghsh!

Gregory rubbed Mycroft’s still trembling arm, comfortingly. “God bless you again. Do you want some water?” He asked hesitatingly, uncertain. He wasn’t sure what was going on fully here, but he knew it was more than just an awful head cold.

“Please,” Mycroft whispered. “And apologies,” he added, almost as an afterthought.

Gregory reached over for the glass and placed it into Mycroft’s hands. He took a few small sips and passed it back with a nod.

Mycroft sighed wearily and his shoulders slumped. He knew he would feel less anxious if he shared his worries with his partner, but was still hesitant to release the heavy burden he carried within. He rubbed his tired eyes with an unsteady hand while he came to a decision.

“It was not an easy task, Gregory. No matter how Sherlock and I speak of one another, or how we treat each other, we are still brothers, and I love him.” Mycroft sniffed, absently rubbing his nose with the handkerchief, and paused a moment to gather his thoughts.

“Sherlock knew it was me immediately, despite the fact I was in disguise and undercover. That made it far easier, that he was coherent enough to know it was me. It was also quite helpful that the individuals holding Sherlock were not the brightest in the world, and did not notice that nary a mark was being left on his back when it was my turn with the whip.” Mycroft gave a hoarse cough; his voice was barely above a raspy whisper now. “That did not make it any easier when I had to watch him being viciously tortured by those cretins; those animals.”

[AngelEyes]

Gods. This is so many kinds of brilliant! Don't doubt yourself!

Hesitant still, as there was an annoying residual tickle lingering within his congested, cold-ridden nostrils, Mycroft nodded, and then changed his mind and shook his head.

Totally sexy. I'm good...no, wait, I'm not! Grrrrrrr......

Yeah, I'll just be over here..........

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

I agree with Angel Eyes the part where Mycroft nods then shakes his head before sneezing was brilliant.

Clever Mycroft for not really whipping Sherlock. Must still hurt though since we know Sherlock believes Mycroft let "the cretins" (I can totally hear Mycroft saying this.) torture Sherlock more than necessary.

Tsk, tsk. Not started your thesis? Well, I could give lots of parental sounding advice. But I doubt you need that. I'll just send you positive thoughts and good wishes.

[coldcure08]

AWWWW!!!! Good Greg! Understandinglovingtherapeuticgreg! Insecuresickypookingoftorturinghimselfmycroft... (sad face) I love your mad typing skills.

Mycroft’s brilliant mind was working overtime. He would miss Gregory- who brought chaos to his order and yet he loved him for it all the same. However, before Mycroft’s thoughts could get away from him, he felt himself being manhandled; Gregory was turning him so they could face each other, his warm, strong arms enveloping him like a cocoon.

This innate, selfless kindness and love that Gregory was giving him now (and always gave him) was just too much for Mycroft; he had reached his breaking point. He helplessly collapsed forward into Gregory’s arms and sobbed.

Gregory rubbed Mycroft’s back and kissed the top of his head. As much as he was shocked and taken aback by what he had just been told, it was clear Mycroft needed this release, and he could deal with his emotions on his own time. He continued to murmur soothing words into the top of his lover’s head while his body continued to be wracked by tremors, tears and snuffling breaths.

[matilda3948]

Hesitant still, as there was an annoying residual tickle lingering within his congested, cold-ridden nostrils, Mycroft nodded, and then changed his mind and shook his head.

Totally sexy. I'm good...no, wait, I'm not! Grrrrrrr......

Yeah, I'll just be over here..........

^^YES! This was my reaction too. Just

Love this story!

[cally]

Gods. This is so many kinds of brilliant! Don't doubt yourself!

Thank you!

Totally sexy. I'm good...no, wait, I'm not! Grrrrrrr......

Yeah, I'll just be over here..........

(I can relate)

I agree with Angel Eyes the part where Mycroft nods then shakes his head before sneezing was brilliant.

Clever Mycroft for not really whipping Sherlock. Must still hurt though since we know Sherlock believes Mycroft let "the cretins" (I can totally hear Mycroft saying this.) torture Sherlock more than necessary.

Thank you. Well, he did, but lucky for the two of them, they are both smart and can read each other (and others) so well, so it worked out, but it was still, a painful experience.

Tsk, tsk. Not started your thesis? Well, I could give lots of parental sounding advice. But I doubt you need that. I'll just send you positive thoughts and good wishes.

Well, it is started, just not very well. It's a really long story.

AWWWW!!!! Good Greg! Understandinglovingtherapeuticgreg! Insecuresickypookingoftorturinghimselfmycroft... (sad face) I love your mad typing skills.

Thank you! Gregory is a loving, caring boyfriend when he's not being insecure.

^^YES! This was my reaction too. Just

Love this story!

Thank you, thank you!

I'm thinking one, maybe two more chapters. I want to finish this up before it's time for the Mystrade winter fest and the secret santa here.

Chapter 7

Mycroft was visibly trembling now, no longer able to remain stoic after sharing his emotionally draining ordeal. Frowning, Gregory pulled his shaking partner into his arms and held him tight. He knew there was little else he could do, especially given the hour. So he just held him tight, keeping him warm and safe for as long as he could.

He was hopeful when the body-wracking quaking stopped. He looked down at Mycroft, hoping that the younger man had finally worn himself out into sleep.

Mycroft was most certainly not asleep. The tumultuous tickle had once again taken up residence in his sinus cavity; he could feel it as if it was spreading throughout the passages and down into his nostrils, like a lazy, meandering river. It was torturous. He fumbled for his handkerchief, unable to locate it. His face was pressed into Gregory’s chest and the very thought of . . ., no it was most unthinkable.

He gave a gasping breath and managed to stifle the first expulsion.

Heh’hhhmmpftish!

Mycroft, still trembling, tried to pull away from Gregory. However, his lover’s arms were too strong. He could hear Gregory murmuring to him, telling him to relax, that he had him. He curled in on himself as much as he could, doing his best not to sneeze on his partner.

Huh’tishhhhhngxtsh! MmmmINGHtighsh! Tishoooo! Ahhh…Heh’INGTISHooo!

The last sneeze threw Mycroft forward; Gregory had loosened his grip a bit, and was now holding out a handful of tissues for him. Mycroft quickly took them and pressed them up to his reddened, chapped nose.

“God bless you, love.”

Heh’hi-TISSSHH! HDSCHHhhhhooo! Gn’ingxxishhh! Huh’ngtshhhooo!

More vicious sneezes wracked Mycroft’s body and he immediately began to blow his nose in order to try to quell the impossible tickle. He may have whimpered in exhaustion.

“God bless you again,” Gregory said before yawning. The lateness of the evening was catching up with them both.

“Apologies,” Mycroft whispered as he tended to his dripping nose and frowned when he saw the small, damp patch on Gregory’s shirt. Gregory looked down and shrugged. He pulled the sleep shirt up over his head and tossed it on the floor. “Easily solved, that,” he said.

Mycroft looked at him with damp, tired eyes, confused.

“Holding you and helping you through illness and a panic attack is more important than a shirt.”

Mycroft balled up the now useless tissues and tossed them in the bin. “Thank you,” he mouthed, his voice pushed past its limits now. He wasn’t surprised that Gregory had figured out his mental failings, but that was not a conversation for this evening.

Gregory smiled and kissed him on the forehead. He then leaned over and grabbed the box of Night Nurse. He removed two pills and handed them to Mycroft. He then reached over for the glass of water.

Mycroft swallowed the pills down, and gave an exhausted, squelching sounding sniffle. He rubbed his ailing, damp nostrils with a knuckle.

Gregory yawned again, and stretched. “I think we should sleep.”

Mycroft nodded, but stood first and walked unsteadily to the ensuite.

Gregory put a fresh sleep shirt on, and replenished the handkerchief stash before Mycroft returned. He could hear Mycroft attempting to blow his nose again. He was straightening the thick duvet when Mycroft made his way back over.

The pair slipped under the duvet. Gregory was about to pull Mycroft toward him, when the auburn haired man gave a breathless, heady and thick sneeze.

Hehhh . . . . ING’SHHHHH

“G’bless,” Gregory murmured as he pulled Mycroft toward him, pressing a tissue into his hands.

“Thag you,” Mycroft whispered, choking back a yawn; the medicine was rapidly making him drowsy.

“Sleep, love. You’ll feel better in the morning,” Gregory whispered.

[AngelEyes]

Gregory is simply the best. Just hold him close and tight.

More vicious sneezes wracked Mycroft’s body and he immediately began to blow his nose in order to try to quell the impossible tickle. He may have whimpered in exhaustion.

Just lovely.

Mycroft balled up the now useless tissues and tossed them in the bin. “Thank you,” he mouthed, his voice pushed past its limits now. He wasn’t surprised that Gregory had figured out his mental failings, but that was not a conversation for this evening.

Silly Mycroft. Of course Gregory knows your little quirks. And loves you through them.

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

Marvelous chapter. You have left lots of hints about future conversation that are sure to be intense and heartfelt. I hope Mycroft does feel better in the morning, but not too much better!

[cally]

Gregory is simply the best. Just hold him close and tight.

He will. He's good at it.

Marvelous chapter. You have left lots of hints about future conversation that are sure to be intense and heartfelt. I hope Mycroft does feel better in the morning, but not too much better!

Yes, they probably will have to talk at some point, huh?

Chapter 8

Pale sunlight was filtering through the slight partition of the deep burgundy curtains, when Mycroft finally awoke; dust motes, floating through the air, were barely visible in the faint light.

Mycroft blinked a few times trying to sort out his head. He was alone in bed, and given by the amount of light, he had been allowed to sleep in, and for some time as well. Gregory was no longer in bed, but there was a box of tissues sitting there, along with a note; Popped to the shop. Be right back. G. xx.

Mycroft smiled at the sentimentality of it all, and winced at the pressure the slight movement made on his sinus passages. He sniffled weakly, and frowned; the congestion was like cement blocking up his entire head. Sadly, the congestion didn’t prevent his nose from prickling; he always sneezed in the morning right after waking, but he was sure this morning’s fit was bound to be unpleasant.

He took a deep, hitching breath and stifled the first, painful sneeze into the back of his wrist.

Heh’hhhmmpftish!

Wincing from the pain in his deeply clogged sinuses, Mycroft realised there was no point in stifling, as he was alone. That combined with the probable sinus infection, or at the very least a nasty case of sinusitis, it was in his best interest to keep from stifling.

Grasping for the box of tissues, he hastily plucked a few; he could feel the sneezes building.

HDSCHHhhhhooo! Heh’INGTISHooo! NGISHOOO! Hng’ISSH-OOO!

Nostrils flaring erratically, the sneezes rapidly, wetly burst forth; the tissues he clutched were all but rendered useless by the end of the brief fit.

Mycroft blew his nose, as best he could with the thick congestion, and leaned back against the headboard. He could feel a buzzing sensation at the back of his nose; he knew a further barrage of sneezes was imminent.

Heh . . . .huhn’gitchshoo!

The powerful expulsion bent him almost double. He quickly grasped for another handful of tissues; he had been fully unprepared for that. Mycroft frowned, disgusted with himself.

Gn’ingxxishhhoo! Huh’ngtshhhooo!

Mycroft let out a rather undignified whimper and gave in to a series of hitching breaths, the bridge of his nose wrinkling.

Hng’ISSH-OOO! Ahhh-hent’ISHHHHOOO!

“God bless you! And again and again, love.” Gregory stood in the doorway, a cup of tea in each hand, newspaper tucked under his arm.

Mycroft looked up; tissues covering his now freely dripping nose. He blushed, embarrassed. Eyelids fluttering, he ducked his head down, sneezing yet again, trying to muffle them as much as possible.

Huh’tishhhhhngxtsh! TNSGH’SHHHH!

“Christ, Myc! God bless you again!” Gregory set the teas and the paper down on the bedside table, and sat down next to Mycroft.

“Gregory. P-uh-heh please,” Mycroft gasped out before succumbing to yet another sneeze, all while trying to push away from his partner.

Heh’NGISH’ooo!

“And again.”

Mycroft balled up the used tissues and tucked them to the side and quickly grabbed another handful and pressed them to his nose. “My apologies, Gregory. Please excuse me,” Mycroft said, his voice only slightly clearer than the night before. He rubbed at his already reddened nostrils.

“I’d ask how you’re feeling, but it’s pretty obvious you’re still feeling miserable.” With a thoughtful smile, Gregory reached over and brushed a stray curl off Mycroft’s forehead. He was pleased that Mycroft’s skin was cool to the touch.

He retrieved one of the teas, and handed it to Mycroft. He picked up his own, and studied his hands for a moment. Cocking his head to the side to look at Mycroft, the thought a moment before he spoke softly, gently. “Do you want to talk about it?”

[AngelEyes]

Mycroft let out a rather undignified whimper and gave in to a series of hitching breaths, the bridge of his nose wrinkling.

Um. Yeah. I think I may have let out a rather undignified whimper. It just doesn't stop, poor dear. And I adore all of Greg's little, "and again"s. So cute!

[bangbang]

Mycroft letting loose is always lovely. As his mortification at "being caught". He doesn't care, Mycroft! Just sneeze it out!

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

Ok, I just love morning sneezes. Maybe it is the predictability of something that isn't controllable. Of course Mycroft is embarrassed by them he likes to be in control. I like seeing him lose control. *shivers* In my mind Greg likes it too. It doesn't have to a fetish for Greg necessarily. I imagine Mycroft, who is so accomplished and brilliant, needing Greg when he is ill (or his allergies are awful) helps balance the relationship. Besides Mycroft's sneezes just seem down right adorable.

[matilda3948]

Huh’tishhhhhngxtsh! TNSGH’SHHHH!

“Christ, Myc! God bless you again!” Gregory set the teas and the paper down on the bedside table, and sat down next to Mycroft.

“Gregory. P-uh-heh please,” Mycroft gasped out before succumbing to yet another sneeze, all while trying to push away from his partner.

Heh’NGISH’ooo!

“And again.”

Uhh...oh wow. No words. LOVE this cally!!

[katy693]

I always love coming home of an evening and finding you've updated a story or drabble. I wish it would happen every single day (although I'm sure you have better things to do ) You are an excellent writer, and I hope you continue with your stories for a very long time.

[Lietome]

Oh wow somehow I only just saw this and i read it all in probably 7 minutes! Now I'm just really looking forward to an update!!

[cally]

Um. Yeah. I think I may have let out a rather undignified whimper. It just doesn't stop, poor dear. And I adore all of Greg's little, "and again"s. So cute!

He tries.

Mycroft letting loose is always lovely. As his mortification at "being caught". He doesn't care, Mycroft! Just sneeze it out!

One of these days he will realise it, but for now, he's far too mortified, the poor thing.

Ok, I just love morning sneezes. Maybe it is the predictability of something that isn't controllable. Of course Mycroft is embarrassed by them he likes to be in control. I like seeing him lose control. *shivers* In my mind Greg likes it too. It doesn't have to a fetish for Greg necessarily. I imagine Mycroft, who is so accomplished and brilliant, needing Greg when he is ill (or his allergies are awful) helps balance the relationship. Besides Mycroft's sneezes just seem down right adorable.

Yes, this.

Uhh...oh wow. No words. LOVE this cally!!

Awwww thanks

I always love coming home of an evening and finding you've updated a story or drabble. I wish it would happen every single day (although I'm sure you have better things to do ) You are an excellent writer, and I hope you continue with your stories for a very long time.

Thank you! That's very sweet and kind!

Oh wow somehow I only just saw this and i read it all in probably 7 minutes! Now I'm just really looking forward to an update!!

An update you shall have! One more chapter after this. I do apologise for the length in between updates. I had been a bit preoccupied as of late.

Chapter 9

Mycroft sighed deeply. The last thing he wanted to do was to discuss or revisit in any fashion, his time in Serbia. Biding his time, he took a sip of the hot, fragrant tea. It soothed his throat, but made his nose instantly tingle and drip. He pressed a tissue up against his irritated septum and waited for the inevitable. He was only vaguely aware of Gregory taking hold of his cup as his breath hitched wildly.

Huh…….Gn’ingxxishhh! Huh’ngtshhhooo! Ngtsh!-TISSSSHH! INGH’ish! ISH’ooo!

“God bless you, love.” Gregory absently rubbed Mycroft’s leg, which immediately tensed.

Huh’tishhhhhngxtsh! TNSGH’SHHHH!

Mycroft sneezed violently toward his lap, tipping over forward. He reached desperately for the tissues, and grabbing a handful, quickly tended to his ailing nose.

“And again.” Gregory frowned. “Oh, you poor thing,” he said. While he was glad that Mycroft had finally gotten a good night’s sleep, he still sounded absolutely miserable. He was beginning to think that he needed to get Mycroft to a doctor. He looked over at his lover, who had leaned up against the headboard of the bed.

Mycroft had closed his eyes, and to anyone else it would have looked like he was resting or thinking. But Gregory knew better; he could see the slight fluttering of Mycroft’s nostrils and knew that the younger man was willing himself to keep from sneezing.

Gregory carefully reached over for the tissues, making sure not to spill either of their teas. He placed a few fresh tissues in Mycroft’s hand. “Just let it go, love. You’ll feel better if you do.” There was a teasing lilt in his voice.

Mycroft opened an eye, and glared. He was about to retort when the teasing within his nasal passages increased. His eyes fluttered shut and he eked out a sigh before giving in to the sensation of the fit of ticklish sneezes.

Heh’NGISH! NGISH’OOO! INGH’ish! Heh’INGTISH! Heh’TSSSCHH!—ISH!

Mycroft gave a liquid sniffle and pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance, massaging the long septum in hopes of easing the irritation. He was tired of feeling unwell and he had hoped that fit was to be the end of it. He could vaguely hear Gregory blessing him and saying something else, but his hearing had become blocked with the increased sinus pressure. He felt as if he were under water. Mycroft winced from the pain that was blooming across his cheekbones and down into his ears as he gave into the continued, relentless fit.

Heh’INGTISH! Heh’hi-TISSSHH! Heh……huh’mmmmpTNSGH! HDSCHHhhhhooo!

The sneezing finally abated for the moment, and Mycroft wearily blew his nose, which at least had the benefit of unblocking his ears.

“God bless you again, love.” Gregory frowned again. He wished he risked calling John. As much as he loved Mycroft, he wasn’t about to put John anywhere near him right now. He didn’t think a black eye or a bloody nose would help the situation any.

“I ab fide, Gregory,” Mycroft said quietly.

Gregory pulled a face; Mycroft wasn’t fine. Gregory retrieved the bag he had brought from the pharmacy. “I got you the strongest cold medicine I could buy, and something for your sinuses,” he stated. “Now, you’re going to take it, and get back into bed and rest.” He stood with his arms crossed, looking as authoritative as he possibly could when dealing with the British Government.

Meekly, Mycroft nodded. There was no point in arguing with Gregory when he was like this. Yawning, he took the pills and drank his tea and then sat back against the headboard. He really was feeling wretched and so terribly exhausted. He was thinking about how drowsy he was, and something was on the tip of his tongue, as he drifted back off to sleep a few moments later.

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

Hip hip hooray! An update! I love caring, bossy Gregory paired with grumpy, sneezy Mycroft. And Gregory knowing when Mycroft is trying to hold back his sneezing. A lovely picture of intimacy you painted. Clearly Gregory has nursed him through many a cold/illness by this time. I wonder what that was like the first time. Do you think he was as caring as is he is in this story? Or did it take him a bit to realize a Holmes does nothing by halves, including being sick?

I love your stories. They are a welcome distraction. I await the final chapter.

[AngelEyes]

Yippee!!! Bossy!Greg is Awesome! Poor miserable Mycroft. I love them sooo much!