Mystrade - The Call - from The Personal Journal of Mycroft Holmes

Chapter 9

        I found myself seated on a wooden chair in the corner of my sitting room, staring out the window. It felt as though it'd been hours since Greg had called. After checking my pocket watch, I realised that not even one hour had passed. 

        A police car pulled into the drive. "Still on duty, then," I determined aloud and then made my way to the sofa.

        "Hi." Greg was out of breath, less from hurrying into the house and more from anxiety.

        "What's going on?"

        He sat down next to me, throwing his jacket across the tea table. His hand was cold as ice and unsteady as he rested it on my knee. "You tried to talk to me, and I wouldn't listen."

        "I try never to talk to you, Greg. What did I try to talk with you about?"

        "Somehow you knew - you always know - you knew this would happen."

       I took his hand in mine. "Greg, breathe." I paused, allowing a second for him to gain composure. "Start at the beginning of the story and walk me through what's wrong."  He didn't need to tell me.  I could see it in his eyes - in his demeanor.  We'd been found out.

        Still half breathless, he expounded, "the pub. When I had you meet me after work for drinks."

        "What about it?"

        "You knew that someone would see us together eventually. You said it."

        "Did I?" I genuinely couldn't recall.

        "Of course you did. And you were right. He saw us. And now I have to undergo an interrogation tomorrow."

        "Slow down. Who saw us?"  Clearly, it was someone Greg felt held significant power.

        "The Deputy Commissioner."

        That was a rank high enough that I could impose some control.

"He's going to question me," Greg reiterated, becoming frustrated at my lack of reaction. "What am I going to say?"

        "The truth."

        "They're never going to trust me again."

        "Well, if you feel that way, Greg, you have two options, really."

        "What options?"

        "We can end this, and you can tell them that it was an isolated social call set up by my brother. Then, they'll have full trust in you. Nothing will change."

        "Are you a barmy fool?" His voice was rising to a shout. "That's not an option at all."

        "Alright, then. There are no options. You tell the truth." I matched him in tone and volume.

        He let out a huff of air. "This is a mess."

        "Greg, people are going to find out. It won't be easy. Coming out as bisexual after you've been married to the opposite gender is a very different animal than other things. It does have to happen, though."

        "I know that. I'm not worried 'bout that. I don't care about that." He finally stopped to breathe. "I don't care one whit if the entire world knows that I like being fucked by a man. I'll proudly tell them that I am irrevocably in love with a man." His voice was suddenly steady and calm. "But when that man is Mycroft Holmes," he was almost whispering now, "that's something else."