* a/n: with loads of thanx to JohnsArmyLady for her continued support... as well as serenityofthematrix - my faithful reviewers... *

9. taking a hike

Mycroft leaps up from the bed – I've not seen him get dressed so quickly before…

We'd been laying in a sweet embrace, dozing off in each other's arms, his breath tickling the skin on my face. His old childhood bed wasn't nearly big enough (and why the hell was his room still in the state it was?! As if he was going to move back in at some point…), so we had to be quite close together.

It had felt a little bit weird, lying there, on top of the nicely made up bedclothes, knowing his mother was downstairs, and Mycroft had all sorts of memories from his peculiar childhood in the back of his mind… In a way I felt I was helping him dispel bad ones, replace them with some more happy thoughts, even if they were as base as the sex we just had…

But then again: seeing him leap around like a naughty boy, having been caught with his fingers in the biscuit tin, I'm wondering if this is a mission too far… In his normal life in London, he's very much in charge, he knows what he's doing, and he knows he's appreciated for it, but here, the rules are different… They're set by Mummy, who has strong ideas of what is proper and what isn't, and giving your boyfriend a blow job is quite probably not on that list. However heavenly and wonderful said boyfriend might think it was…

'I'll just get that,' he whispers, as if I have no idea what he's doing. I quickly pull the bedspread over my naked body, and wait to see what happens next.

Mycroft has put his trousers and shirt on, not tucked in, and he's still on bare feet. With liberal trepidation he opens the door and looks to see who it is.

'Ah, Wilcox, it's you…' The relief was palpable.

'Hello, Master Holmes, it's just to tell you that the room is ready for you and your friend, at the front of the house, and your mother has tea ready in the Green Room. Would you both care to join her,' the man spoke, without his voice giving anything away.

'Thank you for that, Wilcox, we shall be down in a moment…'

With that he closed the door, his body sagging, and he turned around to look at me.

'You thought it was your mother, didn't you?' I ask with a slight smile on my face.

His look at me is piercing, then he makes a kind of 'well, yeah…' gesture with his face, and he comes to join me on the bed.

'Your mum is happy with you having a sex life, is she?' he asks, while lightly stroking my face with the tips of his fingers.

'No, not really… But she knows I have one, and I think she's grounded enough to know it goes with me being a grown up…'

Although it wasn't always so, to be fair… I remember when I had my first girlfriend, when I was sixteen, my mum was really trying her best to accept her, and not make it look like she was put out by me 'deserting' her for this long-legged, long-haired, pea-brained thing that even I knew I was only dating for the physical aspects… I've never told her that my first time was with the younger sister of my best friend's mum. She had George when she was eighteen, and George's auntie was this twenty-nine year old, free-spirit photographer from London, who had come down for the weekend when George had his sixteenth birthday. I stayed over after the party, and it was all very silly and mad, and Ginny, his auntie, had shown her interest in me early on, and when I went downstairs for a drink at two in the morning and she was out on the veranda, smoking something that didn't smell like the stuff my dad smoked, out in the shed, and my hormones were raging like wild torrents, it didn't take a lot to convince myself to go out there and hang out with her. She was really quite pretty, in an arty way, with short cropped hair, and a fairly boy-ish way about her, and she seemed very pleased to see me. I lost my virginity to her, on the bench on the veranda, with the stars and the moon overhead, and my best friend's mum and dad indoors…

I gave Mycroft the short version of this, as I got my clothes back on, and he smiled.

'Oh, the simpler lives lived… How I'd love to have swapped with you in those days… All I had was catholic guilt, upper-class unease about bodies and hormonal imbalance, and feelings that seemed in all ways wrong…' Mycroft gazes at me keenly, then smiles. 'Shall we go, soon? Or the tea will be cold and I'm already nervous about the reception we might get downstairs…'

Mrs Holmes was reading a book when we join her. She sits by the fire, and looks up from her glasses, smiling at us and put her book down.

'Do you take milk in your tea, Gregory?' she asks, while hovering the pretty milk jug over my cup.

'No thanks, Mrs H, gone off that after a sour milk disaster a few years back…' I smile. 'Can't stand the thought of it now…'

'Mrs H? That sounds nice… You can carry on with the, if you wish…' she nods in approval. I look at Mycroft, who raises his eyebrows in wonder.

'Oh, sorry, I just… it's a force of habit, I guess…'

'No, don't worry, it sounds nice. So, I wonder, Gregory, has my son shown you around the grounds yet? It's really pretty at this time of the year, although the frogs do get to you after a while…'

'Yes, he showed me some parts by the lake yesterday. He said it was his favourite,' I say, glancing at my sweet next to me on the settee. I take his hand without really thinking about it, and squeeze it gently.

'I showed him the chapel, mother, I see it's being used again?' Mycroft hides his curiosity well.

'Yes, by Annika… Oh, I haven't told you, have I now? Quite a while back I decided that I need a home help, for my personal business, as I can't ask Wilcox really… It's so inappropriate… And then I found Annika, sent to me by an agency that Clarissa recommended when I saw her at New Year. She's lovely, from Sweden, but she's gone to Bristol for the day, visiting a friend. She will be back later tonight, so you can meet her, perhaps…' Mrs Holmes sparkles when she talks, quite unlike the controlled lady that I met earlier in the day. 'She's discovered the chapel, last week, and decided to make it comfortable for her to read in. Oh, and she's staying in your old room, as long as that's okay with you…'

I hear Mycroft choke on his tea, and swiftly look sideways. 'I beg your…' is all he can utter.

'Well, it's not being used, and it's a nice room…'

She looks at her son sharply, to see how he's taking the news, and in the mischievous glint in her eyes, I can tell she's trying to pull his leg. Perhaps she knows of our earlier activities? Why then would she…? Is this the unpleasant side of his mother coming out? She can see he's not happy, that he's feeling uncomfortable…

'Oh, right…' Mycroft mutters, and smiles shortly at his mother.

'It's okay, Mycroft, calm down… I wouldn't dream of using either yours of Sherlock's old rooms… She's staying on the far side, overlooking the lake… And what you get up to in your room is up to you of course… Even if it is right above this one…' she says, raising one eyebrow.

I shift uncomfortably in my seat, and notice how timid the man next to me has gone. When she was speaking, I detected the sharp, distant, insensitive tones of her other son, dropping sharp little needles, trying to undermine his confidence. From his little brother Mycroft can take it, from his mother not so much. Once more I take his hand.

'It's still nice outside, darling, shall we go for walk?' I say to give Mycroft a way out.

'That sounds nice…' he says, barely audible.

'If you could excuse us, Mrs H, we'd just like to go for another walk. It's so pretty out there now, it seems a shame not to…'

Once outside I grab Mycroft's hand and lace my fingers with his. He moves a bit closer to me, but still seems in a kind of state of shock.

'It's her problem, darling, if she's repelled by your love life…' I say when we're well out of earshot of the house. Birds are tweeting away, and there's a sweet smell of spring flowers wafting over the area where we're walking. 'You're a grown man, with urges and feelings, and if she can't handle that, still, then she's that one with the issue here, not you…'

'I know that, you're right… I've had plenty of therapy to tell me that any desires I might have like the ones that I had earlier are fine, that there's nothing unhealthy or wrong with them… but she has this hold on me, Gregory… It's as if I'm straight back to when I was 14, and entertaining notions of playing with myself, relieving the tension, and all I could see was her face, telling me I was wrong to even contemplate…' He sighs deeply.

'They've fucked you up well and truly, haven't they…' I say, and move to stand right in front of him, looking up into unsure eyes. A surge of anger sweeps over me.

'I love you so much, Mycroft Holmes, and I vow to protect that little boy that's inside there with all I have in my power… I'm not going to let her win…'

I feel a bit strange to declare myself to this man so openly, but it's what I honestly feel – I love him, so bloody much, and to see him this frail is making my blood boil. I lean up to kiss him, and he meets me halfway, our lips touching tenderly.

'Thank you, Gregory, for putting up with me…' He wraps his arms around me, holding me securely, and moves back in for another kiss.

He moves one arm to free a hand up, placing that on the side of my face, stroking it gently. He carefully shifts it round my neck, and carries on kissing me for a while longer, ending it to hug me with so much feeling that I feel myself well up a tad… From the corner of my eye I see his mother move away from the window.

We carry on walking, beyond the trees, to where a field of spring flowers colour the grass pink and white. The arm he's put round my shoulder feels nice, and I'm holding him around the waist, suddenly remembering that Louise used to do that with me. We stand to look at the splendour in front of us, and I lean into Mycroft's tall body, resting my head on his shoulder, feeling both secure and defensive of him.

Our silent communing is cut short by a man wandering along in a big wax coat. I feel Mycroft tense up slightly, but not make any other movements. His hold on me tightens, his hand squeezing my shoulders, as the man approaches. When he makes eye contact and nods at us, my dear seems to spring back into Master of the Estate-mode and lets go of me.

'Jones! How are you?' he calls to the guy that's now reached us. Mycroft holds out a hand.

'I'm fine sir, I have some good news for Mrs Holmes, I'm sure…' he smiles. He seems a couple of years older than me, has a nice demeanour, a solid build, and a very handsome face. I can see why Mycroft still goes a bit weak at the knees for this guy. 'Evening sir,' he then nods at me.

'Hello, Mr Jones,' I say, extending my hand.

'Ah, Jones, this is Detective Inspector Lestrade, form Scotland Yard… He's… Um…' Mycroft is struggling to explain me.

'Your squeeze?' Jones says, winking at me.

'My what?! Oh, I see… Well, you could say that, but I feel he's a little bit more than that…'

'Your boyfriend then… Fiancé? Husband?' he speaks without any kind of worry about what his employer's son might think. 'Bit on the side?' He looks me up and down when he says that, then smiles again. I grin back stupidly.

'Significant other,' Mycroft decides, and puts his arm around my shoulder once more.

'Oh, okay… Nice to meet you, Mr Lestrade,' Jones says, 'I should be off to speak to Mrs Holmes, or should I come back in the morning?'

'That might be better, she's a bit prickly tonight…'

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

In bed, later that night, we just cuddle up together. Not because we daren't do anything else, but because it feels like the right thing to do. The room we're in is simple, pleasant and quiet. Apart from the owls that feel a need to call to each other in the tree in front of our window.

Mycroft seems still a bit wired after the strange evening we had. I confronted him with my deduction that he still feels stuff for the head-gardener guy, and although he tried to convince me of the opposite, he had to in the end admit that yes, he still felt a strong attraction to him, despite everything, despite me standing next to him and him loving me intensely. A case of your first real love never really leaving you… I half joked that he'd have to go if I was to ever move in here with him…

In the morning I wake to find the space next to me in the bed to be empty. I feel slightly disappointed, because waking up nest to Mycroft is one of the things I very much enjoy about being with him. Touching his body, seeing him smile at me, sharing our first kiss of the day… So now, when there's a void there, I just stretch, doze a little longer, make myself get up and go to find the shower (something else that's thoroughly enjoyable with my dearest…), find that it's a bit of an old system, with a pitiful spray coming out of the shower head, manage to just about get my hair washed, then get out again to get dried and dressed and check my phone for messages. Only one from Sherlock, to ask me if I knew where his brother was. I'll answer it later.

It's nine in the morning, and the house is still very quiet. In the room where I'm to take my breakfast, as directed there by Wilcox, I find a young woman, brown haired, normal posture, chirpy, who nods at me and carries on spreading butter on a piece of white toast.

'Morning,' I say.

'Good morning, sir,' she answers, with a pleasant smile. 'You are Mister Holmes? I'm Annika.'

'Hi, Annika. No I'm not Mr Holmes, I'm his partner, Greg. Mr Holmes has gone missing, I'm afraid… Haven't seen him yet today. Nice to meet you, anyway.'

She smiles, then raises an eyebrow. 'Partner? Are you in business?' she asks in a clear almost imperceptible continental accent.

'No, not really… We live together.'

'Jesus, is everybody here gay?!' she utters in bewilderment. 'Sorry, I didn't mean to… I'm not against… It's just that – Mrs Holmes said that her other son lives with a man too… And Mr Wilcox I'm sure is gay… It seems only Jake, the gardener is straight…'

After which she blushes.

I grin, and get myself some coffee from the big pot on the machine.

'Well, they do say that the English have a reputation in that direction… Maybe it's all that repression, stiff upper lip and all that… I don't know… Nobody gay in Denmark, then?'

'I don't know, I'm from Sweden,' she smiles. 'Yes, of course… My brother is bisexual… So through him I know gay people, and it's not even issue with me, Greg, I was just… shocked… that in one family…'

'It's a bit of a weird family, Annika. Don't draw all your conclusions from this lot…'

The door opens and in wanders Mycroft, with a cup in his hand. He smiles at me, and walks up to give me a kiss.

'Sorry I deserted you. I had a sneaky look on my phone when I woke and saw that Anthea had left three messages, so I… Oh, hello there,' he says, following my gaze to the table, and finally noticing the company we're in. 'You must be Annika,' he carries on, unfazed, friendly and sweet as ever. 'I'm Mycroft, the eldest son of Mrs Holmes. I take it you've been introduced to Mr Lestrade?'

"Hello Mycroft, yes, Greg and I have been talking for a bit already… You're not missing anymore, then?' she smiles, and finishes the last of her toast, gets up to pour some more coffee and goes back to her chair.

'I told her you'd gone AWOL, when she mistook me for you,' I answer Mycroft, who looks at me confused. 'Have you dealt with all your affairs? Do you fancy going for a walk? I quite liked the idea of that bit of woodland, down beyond the lake. You fancy coming along, Annika? Might do you good, after a day in the City…'

'City? Yeah, why not? Mrs Holmes has been sorted out and I do have Sunday's off as a rule… I just go and check,' she says and skips off out of the room.

Mycroft looks at me while sipping his coffee.

'Wow, you make friends quickly…'

'Do I? She seems nice, and I thought she might want some company, in this place… Just thought about what I might want if I was her, at that age… Not everyone is happy to be alone so much,' I say, and take the hand that is lying on the counter where the coffee machine is.

'Not everybody has had the chance to be in agreeable company often…'

'And that's why you're with me…' I grin, and reach up for a proper kiss. 'I'm going to singlehandedly replace all your unhappy recollections of the past with good ones… Beginning here in this place… Get your walking shoes on, darling, we're off on a long hike…'

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

It's evening by the time we get back to London, due to the Volvo stalling on the motorway and us having to wait for the right part to be found, and the fact that we didn't leave until well into the afternoon.

Annika proved a great companion, funny and resourceful, and knew a great little tearoom in the village, where we had lunch, spending an hour and a half, Mycroft catching up with the lady that runs the small restaurant. Her parents ran the grocers that supplied to the Manor, and she used to help out in the holidays, finding herself enthralled by the grandness of the house and the beauty of the grounds. She remembered Mycroft as a pale, quiet boy, shy and distant, quite the opposite to his manic brother, who was haring around the place, looking for things to dismantle and research. And she was scared of both Mr and Mrs Holmes, who were cold and reserved, unforthcoming and always with their noses in books.

It was interesting to have done this, even though I know Mycroft would have been happy to have left after dinner last night… The bits of the puzzle of his life are slowly falling into place, and the enigma that is my other half gets unravelled bit by bit…

I curl up against his body, as I feel he's dozed off into a calm sleep – for him… He's lying on his side, and my arm snakes around his waist, my legs tangle with his. I hear him moan lightly, and kiss the soft skin in his neck, just to let his subconscious know that all is well, for now. All is well, and I love him so very dearly…

There's nothing I can imagine that would change the way we are...

{famous last words...}

- the end -