Fever

responsible

Greg actually stayed at the hospital bed all night. He didn't sleep particularly well, sitting in a chair, his arms crossed over the bed, his head laid on it. It was uncomfortable, and he was more dawdling than he really slept.
But he wanted to be there when Myke woke up. It was important to him.
It wasn't until the early hours of the morning that he fell asleep.
A nurse finally woke him up.
"Excuse me, sir. I have to take your boyfriend with me now. I must take him for some tests."
Greg blinked sleepily.
"Can I wait here in the room?"
She nodded.
Mycroft's bed had been moved from the room.
A few minutes later a young male nurse entered the room and placed a tray on the small table.
"This is for you, sir. Have a bite to eat. You're not helping your friend if you're going to collapse on your own."
He gave Greg a friendly nod.
Greg was grateful. Especially for the big cup of coffee, which tasted surprisingly good. He ate some bread with jam and cheese, and felt it did him good.

An hour later he had got another cup of coffee from the vending machine in the hallway.
He was sitting at the small table again when the door opened and the bed with Mycroft on it was pushed back into the room.

To Greg's boundless relief he had his eyes open.
"Hello Greg" he croaked.
"Myke!"
He looked at the nurse questioningly.
She smiled.
"I'll leave you two alone. Half an hour, DI Lestrade. Then you must go. Mr. Holmes needs rest."
And she left the room.
Greg pulled the chair up to the bed and sat down. He very carefully took Mycroft's hand.
"Hey," he said.
"You gave me a right good scare."
"Sorry," croaked Mycroft.
"Instead of going to bed and getting some rest, you just swallowed pills and kept going. It was stupid of you."
"Greg, I can't just lie in bed for a few days, I'm needed..."
"Nonsense," Gregory scolded me. "Yes, you are needed. I need you. Everything else can wait."
Mycroft's eyes got very big.
"You need me?"
"Yes, Myke. I've fallen in love with you. You just wormed your way into my heart. And if anything happened to you now, if you were gone, my heart would break into pieces, do you understand?"
Greg was smiling.
"My God, Myke, I don't think I've ever said anything so corny in my life. And if I did, I've never meant it that seriously before."

Gregory looked fondly at Mycroft.
"Listen, promise me you'll never do anything so silly again. Or I will personally and single-handedly put you over my knee and spank you, do you understand me?"
Myke tried smiling.
"Is that a promise, DI Lestrade?"
Gregory grinned too, but then his expression got stern.
"Mycroft Holmes, I'm serious about this. You're not alone now, and that's not just about you any more. When people love each other, they take responsibility for each other. I therefore feel responsible for your well-being. And you are also responsible for my well-being. And I'm not fine if you're unconscious in a hospital bed."

Mycroft swallowed.
"Gregory, I just...don't seem used to anyone caring that much about me."
Greg looked at him in surprise.
"Your family..."
"Well, our parents always demanded achievement and loved our achievement... at least it felt that way. Maybe they loved Sherlock and me, too, but they didn't show it. And now they're long dead. And my brother... I'm sure he cares about me... but most of the time, he's a master at hiding it."
"Friends?"
"Well..." Mycroft looked down embarrassed. And Greg realised, there'd never been any friendship like that in Mycroft's world before.
"But, um... I'm not a first man, am I?"
"No, Greg. I have loved before. But it was a long time ago, and it wasn't good. Let's not talk about it now."
Gregory nodded.
"Well, anyway, Myke, I'm here for you now, and I'm gonna take care of you, okay?"

The room door flew open as Gregory said the last sentence, and Sherlock rushed into the room with John in tow.
"Brother-in-law Greg, are you aware that you just said that last sentence to Mr. Master Control Freak, Mr. I'm-The-Grey Emperor oft he British Government, Mr. I-Know-Every-Surveillance-Cam-of-Town-London-Personally-And-Speak-to-it -With-Forename, Mr. Frown-at-my-Protective-And-I -Will Curse-Your-Family-Up-to-Seven-Generations-at-least?"

"It's lovely to see you too, brother dear," Mycroft squawked in a weak voice as John rattled "Sherlock!" and Greg couldn't help but giggle.
Sherlock came to Mycroft's bed.
"Well," he said, "Nice to see you're on the way to recovery, anyway. John, can we go now?"
"Sherlock!" scolded John again.
"Oh, come on," he said. "Look at the pair of them. Surely the kitsch must have been pouring out of this place, and I'm afraid it's going to continue. And I don't want that to happen to me."
"That could never happen to you, could it?" said John, taking the tinfoil ring out of his coat pocket, turning it back and forth and looking at it pensive.
"John!" said Sherlock sharply, then swept out of the room.
John smiled and ran after him.
Greg and Mycroft looked at them in astonishment.
But Greg was too fixated on Myke and Mycroft simply too exhausted to interpret the vibrations behind the last scene.