Hey guys, I got the new chapter here for anyone who's waiting for it. I hope you enjoy it. See ya.

Mycroft watched as everyone started to panic. Somehow the system failed, those who died were being sent back to earth without spending the apt amount of in L.A.D. No one knew what to do, they were all shouting out solutions over each other, trying to be heard. Mycroft rubbed his temples, attempting to keep the oncoming headache at bay. He knew something like this hadn't happened before, he knew this meeting was going to be stressful, but he still wished everyone would just…"Shut up," he hollered over the loud roar of the officials. "Bickering like a bunch of old grandmothers will not help up solve this crisis." Everyone stopped their talking and turned to the head of the table, they were all staring at Mycroft with wide eyes.

"Mycroft, that is no way to talk in a meeting," Ian Munching, someone with almost all the power that Mycroft had, reprimanded.

Mycroft lowered his hands from his head and placed them neatly on the long wooden table in front of him. "I'm sorry, Mr. Munching, but we were getting nowhere with everyone trying to get their two cents," he enlightened him, as if the man wasn't in the very room he was. "Now that I have everyone's attention, I think I know how to fix this."

"What would that be Mr. Holmes?" someone near the other end of the table called out.

Mycroft licked his lips, taking a moment to take in the silence. "During World War 2 the death toll was so high that we had to stop the people, who were dying, coming here, and only letting a few pass at a time so we wouldn't get a massive overload," he refreshed their memories. "I think we should do the same thing here, stop people from even starting the process."

"But that doesn't solve our problem," Ian told him. "That's not solving our problem."

Mycroft shot a look at him. "No it doesn't fix it but it keeps the population on earth down," he said sternly. He scanned the rest of the room; a few people were nodding in agreement. "During the time that we keep their souls there then we can fix the problem here."

"Then won't we get an overload here when we fix the problem?" Ian fought back.

Mycroft sighed inside his head and sent Ian an annoyed smile. "A simple solution to that would be to allow a few people through even if it would raise the population by a small amount. After we do that then we can get the workers to see what's malfunctioning," he said, using all his power not to roll his eyes. He really didn't like Ian, and vice versa. It was Ian who showed his dislike to Mycroft more though; the eloquent Holmes always tried to seem polite when working. But he did have his bad days.

"I agree with Mr. Holmes," another official yelled out. "It's the only solution that will keep things balanced."

"Now hold on," Ian said, sending a pointed look towards the man who just spoke.

"Do you have a better resolution to our problem?" Mycroft snapped. He reeled himself back in his chair and straightened out his back so he was taller than him. "Because if you don't, I think we should go with mine." Ian didn't even attempt to make up a plan; he just glared at Mycroft's stone expression. "Very well, start the process to stop the souls from coming. Also make sure you turn off the indicators, we don't want people waiting in anticipation for their loved ones. That's the end of the meeting." He stood up out of his chair and buttoned his jacket again. He grabbed his umbrella off the back of his chair and waltzed out of the room.

Ian jumped out of his seat angrily and followed him down the hall. "Why did you do that?" he snarled once he caught up with Mycroft.

Mycroft shut his eyes and inwardly groaned. "I don't know what you're talking about Mr. Munching," he told him as politely as he could.

"You know what I'm talking about," Ian snarled. Mycroft was considering that Ian wasn't fully a man, but had some dog in him. "You undermined my authority in there."

Mycroft lifted his chin and looked down his nose at the official. "Last time I checked I have more power than you," he pointed out gracefully. "Now, if you'll excuse me I have dinner plans in ten minutes." He turned on his heel and walked away from the man.

123

Greg slid the pancake off the pan and onto the stack sitting by the stool. He whistled and danced as he maneuvered around the kitchen. He lifted up the pancakes and slide on his socks over to the table. He plopped the plate next to the plate of bacon, half of them extra crispy just the way Mycroft liked them and half of them flimsy like the way he liked them.

He checked his watch; Mycroft would be home in a half an hour. That would give him enough time to get changed in to something nicer than his flannel pajama pants and an apron. He quickly jogged out of the room and into their room. While changing in the room he heard the door open and close. "Mycroft?" he called out through the heavy door.

"No it's me," John yelled back. John smiled and stepped closer to the door. "I forgot the gift I got my mum. I'll be out of here in a minute." He ventured in to the kitchen. He looked at the breakfast food covering the table. "For your one year anniversary you're making breakfast?"

Greg smirked; it was good to hear someone else say it was their one year anniversary. "I decided to surprise Mycroft," he yelled. "I figured he is expecting something fancy so I told myself this morning that I wanted breakfast for dinner. " He fixed his tie and stepped out of his room. "Tell me, do I look good or do I look good?"

John looked him over once; he let out a low whistle. "You look better than good," he told him. He leaned against the wall with his mum's present under his arm. "Man, I can't believe that a year ago you arrived."

"It's been longer than a year," Lestrade said, "because I wasn't proposed to by Mycroft until I was here for at least three months."

John nodded. "You work fast," he told him jokingly. "You fox."

"They don't call me the silver fox for nothing," he said with a smirk. He walked behind him and stared at the table. "I can't believe it."

John chuckled; he turned around and gave his shoulder a good pat. "I'll be getting out of your hair now," he said. "I'll be back tomorrow, around noon. Hopefully you two will be done with 'dinner' by then." He said with a wink. He opened the door and walked out.

Lestrade smiled, he checked his watch again and fell back on to the wall. He fiddled with the ring on his finger; suddenly he started laughing like a loon. He was overwhelmed with happiness.

Mycroft opened the door, and paused for a moment. He shook his head, a smile overtaking the sour look Ian left him with. He turned back around and took off his coat and hung it up, placing his umbrella against the wall. "Can I ask what is so funny?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder he saw Greg calming down.

Greg shook his head. "Nothing," he breathed out. "How was your day?"

Mycroft groaned. "Ian got on my nerves again," he told him. He took a few steps closer and stopped in front of him. "He was fighting me over a certain matter."

"What certain matter?" Greg asked, knowing full well that he wasn't allowed to know what they were working on.

"You know I can't tell you," he said, pecking Greg's lips. "Also it's not important right now." He slid his hands on to Greg's sides and pulled him closer. "You look gorgeous." He kissed him slowly, pushing him against the wall as he did so.

Greg grabbed him by the back of the head and pulled him away. "Dinner's getting cold," he told him out of breath. He kissed him quickly one more time before leading him in the kitchen.

Mycroft clutched his hand and whined like a puppy following its owner. "Can't we just skip the dinner?" he asked. His eyes widened with joy, he looked over at Greg with the biggest smile he could fit on his face. "Breakfast for dinner, you're the greatest husband ever."

Greg just smirked at him and sat down in his own chair. "I made you're favorite kind of pancakes," he told him, "extra chocolate chip." Mycroft moaned and grabbed at the top pancake. Greg laughed silently in his head as he watched Mycroft fill up his plate with glee. "I think you love the food more than you love me." Mycroft looked at him innocently before going back to eating without saying a word. Greg frowned and kicked him in the shin.

"Ow," Mycroft laughed. "You know this night won't go well if you keep hurting me."

456

Greg pulled Mycroft down over him on the couch. He gripped his waistcoat, using it to pull himself up to kiss the man. "I love you," he moaned.

Mycroft smiled against his mouth. He pulled back and slipped Greg's jacket off his shoulders. "Wear less next time," he told him. He pulled at a few of the buttons on his dress shirt. "Although you do look quite dashing," he added.

Greg forced him down again and pushed his lips on his. "You're taking too long," he complained.

Mycroft leaned forward and whispered into Lestrade's ear, "How about we take this to the bedroom?" Greg shook his head, he told him they were just fine where they were. The official let out a warm breath over his cheek as he agreed.

The moment was ruined by Mycroft's phone started ringing. He lifted himself up and groaned. "I thought you shut that off," Greg sighed. He was already pulling himself out from under Mycroft. He knew that he was going to leave from many nights of interruptions.

"Sorry," Mycroft told him. Greg knew he was but that didn't mean it made him any happier. "Hello," he answered the phone.

"Mr. Holmes," Hubert Linn, another official, said from the other end, "the process of stopping the souls from coming here didn't work."

Mycroft sighed; he ran his fingers through his tousled hair and started towards the door. "I'll be there in a minute," he said before hanging up. "I have to go. I promise I'll be back before two, okay." He swept towards Greg and kissed him. "I'm sorry."

Greg nodded unhappily. "It's okay," he told him. "I understand that you're trying to avert a crisis."

Mycroft smiled and kissed him again. "Bye," he said as he jogged quickly out of the flat.

Lestrade fell back on the couch with a frustration filled sigh. He unbuttoned the rest of his shirt and tore it off. He threw it to the ground behind the couch and stood. He unbuckled his belt and pulled off his trousers. He threw them over with the shirt and walked to the bedroom. He changed into his flannel pajama pants again and a t-shirt.

He slugged in to the kitchen and cleaned up the forgotten plates. He didn't want to put them in the dishwasher so he did them all by hand. When he was done he sat back on the couch and pulled out his phone. It rang a few times and John answered. "Hey John, if you want to come back and hang out I'll love to have some company."

"Mycroft did not walk on you," he said in disbelief and anger.

Greg smirked. "He has to deal with another catastrophe," he told him. "I'm used to it by now. So if you want to come back early you can."

"Alright," John sighed into the receiver. "I just have to eat dinner here and then I'll leave, okay?"

"See you soon," he said and hung up. He leaned further into the couch and shut his eyes. He replayed the day that he was proposed to over and over again in his mind.

789 –About One Year Earlier-

Greg twirled around his night stick, whistling a tune he heard earlier on the radio while sitting in the office earlier. He wasn't paying attention to the streets around him; it's not like many people committed crimes in L.A.D. anyway. His job has grown considerably more tedious since he got died, but then again being an officer doesn't always mean murder. He almost wished for something interesting to happen, but he stopped himself when he figured out he sounded like Sherlock.

He covered a loud yawn with his hand and checked down the alley he was walking by for any stragglers who might need a helping hand home. Of course he didn't find any, he never did. His phone started ringing; he brought it out of his pocket to answer. "Lestrade," he said into the receiver.

"Hello," Mycroft's voice came from the other end. "I was wondering if you were done with your shift yet."

Greg moaned he forgot he had a date with Mycroft. "Not yet," he told him. "I'm just on Hamilton Street; I should be done in about a half an hour."

Greg could hear Mycroft sighing. "Well Gregory I was hoping to have dinner with you tonight, I guess that won't happen though," he stated, a certain edge in his tone. "It's not a problem, though Angelo won't take it well."

"Come on My," Greg groaned, "don't say that. I said I'll be done in no time. You don't have to cancel any reservations you made, I'll be there soon."

"Okay," Mycroft said. "I'll wait here for you, come here when you're done."

"Bye," Greg let out.

"Bye," Mycroft sighed before hanging up.

Greg put away his phone and grabbed his walkie-talkie. He pressed the button and it made a cackling noise. "Hey boss, can I end my shift now, nothing"

"No can do Lestrade, there's a problem going down at Angelo's, I need you go and check it out," the older man ordered. "Hurry up."

Lestrade put the walkie-talkie back in its holster and started running towards Angelo's. He took his phone out of his pocket and quickly dialed Mycroft's number. It rang a few times but no one picked up. Greg cursed himself. He just talked to the man, how could something bad happen in such a short time.

He turned the corner and saw Angelo's. It didn't look like anything was happening inside; it was almost pitch black in there, an occasional flicker of light making its way to the window. He got closer to the restaurant, finding out why it looked so dark in there, the curtains were down. He tried to peer inside but it was useless he couldn't see anything.

Greg raised his nightstick and slowly opened the door. He didn't expect what was behind the door. Mycroft was sitting in the middle of the restaurant with a candle in the center. The whole room was lit by candles, one for every table. Greg covered his mouth with his hand and stepped in further. "There isn't any problem here is there?" he opted to ask.

Mycroft folded his hands under his chin, a smile on his face. "Not anymore," he said, "I have my officer here." Mycroft stood up and strode over to Lestrade; taking him by the hand he led him to the table. "Now that you're here you can have dinner with me."

"You called the police department with a fake problem," Greg stated, "just to get me to have dinner?"

Mycroft smirked; he sat down in his seat motioning to the plate of food in front of Greg. "Well I already ordered your favorite dish, I didn't want it to get cold," he told him.

Greg sighed and started eating his food. He reached across the table and grabbed Mycroft's hand. "You're a manipulative man," he told him with a laugh. "Is that how you got me to date you?"

Mycroft chuckled. "I can't tell you that dear," he told him smoothly.

456

The two men finished their dinners. Angelo came out and took their plates, sending a small wink in Mycroft's direction as he did so. "I hope you two are having a good time," he said.

"A wonderful time Angelo," Mycroft told him.

Angelo had a surprised look on his face before grabbing the rest of the left overs. "I'll be off then," he said and left hurriedly.

Greg watched him go. "What's up with him?" he asked. He shook his head and turned back to Mycroft whose smile got broader. "Never mind him, what's up with you? I haven't seen you this happy since we went to the ship that one time." He laughed at the memory. "Do you remember that day? You got so red." He had to hold himself up as he laughed even louder. "I wish I could have shown you your face, it was priceless."

Mycroft stood up, earning a weird look from Greg. Lestrade opened his mouth to question his actions when he got down on his knee. "Gregory Vincent Lestrade," he started reaching into his pocket, "I love you." He opened up the small box, a small golden ring inside. Greg's mouth hung open as he just stared at the man on his knees in front of him. "I have since the first time I my brother pickpocketed you. Will you marry me?"

Greg licked his lips; he opened his mouth then quickly shut it. He started shaking his head. "I don't know," he said, his voice gruff. Mycroft's smile fell; the officer swore he heard the other man's heart break. He got down on his knees along with him, despite the aching protest and wrapped his arms around his neck. "I can't answer you right now Mycroft." He kissed a tear running down his cheek and whispered in his ear, "But I'll think about it, because there is no man I would rather be with and I love you, just let me think about it."

Mycroft nodded, he wrapped his arms around Greg's waist and nuzzled his face in to his shoulder. "You almost gave me a heart attack," he told him, a playful smile on his face.

789–Present time-

Greg rubbed his face; he grabbed his drink and took a sip. "John, I don't know why I thought I could have a normal night tonight," he mumbled to the only sober man in the room.

John gave his shoulder a pat with a small chuckle. "You're dealing with a Holmes," he pointed out. "You won't get a normal night in if you wanted to."

Greg waved his arms out in agreement, almost hitting John in the face. "Did you know I told Mycroft that," he paused, taking another gulp, "I liked his cookie." He started laughing hysterically. "I mean cooking. I don't think he believed me though. It's really horrendous." He slipped further down on the couch so he was resting his chin on his chest. "Did you know my wife was cheating on me?"

John sighed; he slapped his friend's shoulder good heartily. "What brought that on?" he asked. They all figured out, well Mycroft knew from the beginning, seven months after Greg died.

Greg sat forward and invaded John's personal space. "Is Mycroft cheating on me?" he asked seriously.

John backed up, trying to swipe away the smell of alcohol that covered Lestrade's breath. "You're drunk," he pointed out. "I think it's for you to sleep."

Greg groaned and curled up into a ball on the couch. "I'm not moving," he told him forcefully. "I'm waiting for My."

John let out a breath. He gave his shoulder another pat before leaving the now snoring man alone on the couch.

789

Mycroft wanted to get out of the office. It was getting too cramped with all the officials trying to get the problem fixed. He looked at the wall clock over everyone's head and cursed himself on the inside. It was past four o'clock in the morning.

"Mr. Holmes I think we should just send the works out to the lines, and have them try to fix the lines while people are still coming. It won't harm them," someone suggested.

"We're still risking overpopulating the earth," someone yelled at him. "We need to stop them from going through the stages."

"And we can't do that," Ian yelled at the official that just called out. "Mr. Holmes I think we should send down the workers to earth and try to physically stop the souls from coming."

Mycroft sighed; it was the first good idea all night. "I agree Mr. Munching," he told him. He stood up abruptly and that caused everyone to stop. "We're sending the workers so they could stop the souls themselves."

"Workers can't go to earth," another official hollered. "Only one of us can go."

Ian opened his mouth but Mycroft cut him off. "I'll go," he told them. "I'll work down there and stop the souls from coming up here and only letting a few up. Meeting dismissed." He grabbed his umbrella and made his way out of the throng of people crowding in his office.

789

Mycroft walked into the living room and saw Greg snoring loudly on the couch. "He's been drinking hasn't he?" he asked John, who he knew was sitting up in his room waiting for him. "He always snores when he's been drinking," he mumbled to himself.

John walked out and gave the Holmes a disappointed look. "Welcome home," he said.

"I had work," Mycroft told him smoothly. He took off his jacket and hung it up. He turned to John again with a slight smile on his face. "I get to go to earth."

John's jaw dropped, he covered it with his hand. "You're kidding me," he told him. "Are you really going to earth?" Mycroft nodded, not even trying to hide his glee. "Will you be able to interact with, you know people?"

Mycroft lowered his voice and said, "It's against the law, but I can get pass it somehow." He walked over to Greg and sat on the edge of the couch with his hand on his shoulder. "I can write a note and leave it behind for Sherlock, and hopes he gets it. Something that sounds like it was written before we died."

"Oh god," John breathed out. "I'll get to say something to Sherlock. I can tell him I love him." He looked like he was going to start crying. "When are you going?"

"Next week," Mycroft told him, "so get writing."

Well yeah, I don't know what's happening right now. I really hope you guys liked it. Please review, it will make my day, unless it's bad then that won't make my day but they are welcome, so whatever you want to tell me you can. BYE!