I am not lonely [Mystrade]

CHAPTER 47 : Sorry

"Come in Greg !" invited him Molly, opening the door to her friend. "What's going on ?"
"I think I've fucked everything up for a pair of shoes ..." sighed the detective, taking off his trainers and accepting the slippers the young woman was offering him.
"Why won't you make yourself at home in the living room while I'll do tea and you'll explain me what is happening." proposed the confused forensics with a little but heart-warming smile.
The inspector crashed himself in the sofa and grabbed one of the pillows while the water was boiling in the kitchen. A couple of minutes later he was joined by Molly, carrying two mugs of tea and a plate of biscuits.
"So, what have happened?" she asked carefully, taking a seat beside him on the couch.
"I've got a quarrel with Mycroft." explained the DI, taking his head in his hand. "I was tired of my day and I probably over-reacted to an espial he made."
"Why has he picked on you?" enquired the woman, wrapping an arm around her friend's shoulders.
"Shoes." sighed the yarder, gazing at an invisible point on the opposite wall.
"Shoes ? You argue over shoes ?" retorted Molly, not hiding her surprised.
"Yes. I haven't stored my shoes properly in the cabinet and it made him mad." clarified Gregory. "He likes when the things are in order."
"I'm sorry, but it's not entirely your fault no ? You just haven't stored your shoes, maybe he over-reacted no ?" commented the young woman.
"That's exactly what I've told him but well ... I probably shouldn't ..." muttered the detective, drinking a gulp of his tea.
"Come on Greg, I'm sure it's not has bad as it seems ..." the forensics tried to comfort him. "I'm sure he didn't mean it and he is already regretting his words as much as you do."
"I'm not sure, I mean I've insulted his ego quite badly and I'm not sure he can forgive that easily ..." he moaned, tears starting to roll down on his face.
The young woman hugged him tightly during a few minutes before seizing a blanket and offering it to the policeman."Try to have some sleep, I'm sure you'll sort it out tomorrow.".
"Thank you, Molly ..." the yarder replied, taking off his jersey and curling up on the couch in the blanket. He spent a long time staring at the red light of the television, reminding himself of the event of the evening. Five hours ago he was exhausted but looking forward to the evening he was to spent with his husband and now he was lying on the couch of his friends, feeling sadder than he've ever been in the past five years and not knowing how he could smooth things over.
He finally felt asleep around three in the morning, awakening every now and then, shaking after a nightmare where he was moving out of the Holmes Mansion. At six, he rebuffed the blanket, weary of the poor sleep he had got and turned the television on without the sound not to wake up his host. Unconsciously, he started cooking breakfast, fumbleling into Molly's cupboards to find the ingredients he needed. Cooking was keeping him occupied and restraining him from thinking too much and even if he was not a specialist, he was decided to make the most elaborated breakfast he ever had done to thanks the young woman for her host.

It was four in the morning and Mycroft was sat on the couch, an empty glass of whisky in his hands, striking nervously the floor with his left feet. He had tried going to sleep around midnight, seeing that Gregory wasn't coming back home but after two hours of rolling from one side to another in the cold and empty bed, he couldn't tolerate staying in his room longer and, grabbing a silk nightgown, made his way back to the living room. In an attempt to calm himself down he had drank a couple of glass of whisky which had achieved nothing but giving him a headache. He was trying to guess where was his boyfriend at the moment, not at Baker Street, he was sure, he had checked the CCTV he had installed there, maybe at Donovan's or Anderson's place, but he was pretty sure that the detective would have turned to Molly in this kind of situation.
The house was completely silent at this time in the night and this quietness was allowing the official to think quickly, something he most of the time enjoyed but which was, tonight, an absolutely unbearable pain. Willing to escape this sweltering atmosphere, he grabbed his cigarettes and lighter in his coat hanged in the corridor and sat, still in his pyjamas and nightgown on the stairs in front of the door, his eyes strolling on the different houses of the street, the sound of the city in the distance.
The auburn had no idea how to make things up with his partner and nobody to ask help to, not knowing anybody who've been in couple for so long, not even to ask for a married couple. Then, as when he was younger, he grabbed his phone and rang his uncle, knowing that he wouldn't be bother to be awoken at this time in the night for something that was at the same time that trivial and that important. The old man answered at the fifth ring. "Mycroft ? Is that you ?" he asked not really surprise but wondering why the official could call him in the middle of the night.
"Yes uncle." answered the auburn. "Sorry for awaking you but I really need your help."
"What's going on ? Is it a state issue ?" questioned the older Holmes, sitting down in an armchair, near the telephone.
"No. Gregory is gone. I've been harsh with him and he left the house." explained his nephew, straight forward.
"Why have you been harsh ?" wondered Rudolf, not blaming the younger man, neither saying him that it was probably the DI's fault. That was one of the thing Mycroft value the most in his uncle, he didn't judge him but always been honest with him, even if it was to say that he had been wrong and that the fault was his.
"I had a pretty roughday at work and I saw that he haven't put away his shoes and, I don'tknow, I've just lost my mind and avenged myself on him ..." informed him the official, nearly on the verge of tears again.
"You've messed up to stay polite, Mycroft." the old man sermonized him. "But I think you know that as you are calling me in the middle of the night. So I suppose you don't know what to do to bring him back to you, isn't it ?"
"Yes." admit the auburn reluctantly. "He never had left the house and I've been so damn rude to him I don't see how he could actually forgive me..."
"Stop pitying over yourself firstly would be a good idea." retorted Rudolf. "We need a battle plan. Do you know where he is ?"
"I'm not sure, but I think he is at Mrs Hooper's flat." replied the official, already starting to feel better, knowing that someone else was in charge and knowing what he was doing and clearly reassured with the word 'battle plan'.

They spent more than two hours on the phone, planning their strategy to apologize to Gregory and when Mycroft hanged up the call, he was feeling much more confident in his chances to make it up to his husband. He joined the bathroom and took a cold shower to fool his restless body before choosing his most unobvious navy suit and warning Michael, that had arrived a few minutes earlier, that he was going out, letting the sleeping Alden in his room, Mrs Lestrade arriving to London a little later in themorning.
He dashed into the black Jaguar waiting for him in the alley and indicated to the driver the address of his favourite baker in Canary Warf. He had agreed with Rudy that he shouldn't call Gregto apologize over the phone but to go directly to him to say sorry in person.
At eight and a half, his driver dropped him in front of the New Scotland Yard building on the Victoria embankment, a box with cakes and flowers in his hands. He was hoping that the DI would already be at work, this being the only uncertainty in his plan. He entered one of the lifts, starting to feel a little anxious again and wondered if he should take off his tie to look less formal, before deciding that it would just look odd. Swallowing his saliva one last time, he knocked on his husband's office's door, seeing that the lights were on behind the nearly closed curtains.
"Yes ?" the detective shouted in an exhausted voice.
Shyly, the auburn pushed the door, looking at his boyfriend worryingly. The inspector had his head in his hand, a coffee near him, his face bearing the mark of his restless night. He slowly looked up to the man who had just entered the room, looking very surprised to see him here and not knowing what to expect.
"Gregory ..." started the official, all his self-confidence vanishing as soon as his eyes crossed the yarder's one. "Greg, please forgive me ... I've been a complete prick and I don't know how to convince you to forgive me ...I know you do the best to be a great dad and that your work is taking you a lot of time and I'm very sorry if I've pretended otherwise ...I still have no idea how you can stand living with me every day but I would be nothing without you ..."
The detective remained silent for a few seconds, feeling a bit shocked by what had just happened. Seeing Mycroft Holmes apologizing like this wasn't something that happened very often, it actually probably never had happened before. Smoothly the older man raised to his feet and get around his desk, looking at his boyfriend right in the eyes, reading the confusion and the truthfulness in it. Gently and still saying nothing he took the cakes and flower from the hands of the official and put them down on the closest cabinet before pressing himself against the body of his lover, his head against the tall man's shoulder.
The elder Holmes wrapped his arms around the inspector's back kissing him on the top of his head, feeling relieved. "I'm sorry Greg ..." he repeated, whispering softly to his partner's ear.
"I know Myc' ... I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have told you all that ..." replied the policeman, his voice quelled because he still had his head sank into his husband's shoulder.