I am not lonely [Mystrade]

CHAPTER 127 : Black tie

Mycroft tighten the knot of his black tie, looking at himself in the  mirror. He breathed in and out heavily a couple of times and shook his  head to straighten his thoughts before exiting the dressing room,  discreetly getting rid of the small tear that had started to gather at  the corner of his right eye.
His back stiff, he crossed the bedroom  and joined the ground floor without paying any attention to Michael who  tried to know if he needed anything for breakfast. Without a word, he  locked himself in his study and sank into one of the velvet armchairs.
Uncle  Rudy was gone, and he wasn't coming back. Even if he knew it would  eventually be coming, the news had still been a shock to him. He didn't  exactly remember what he had done after Anthea had carefully announced  it to him, neither did he remembered what he had been doing those last  three days since he had known but a part of him knew he just couldn't  stay in this woolly state of mind and that he needed to focus back on  his life. But whatever his brain would say, the auburn was still unable  to get over the news and even if he had insisted on going to the Diogene  Club the last couple of days, he had to admit that he hadn't worked out  anything and only spent those lonely hours rehashing what he should  have said to his uncle before the old man passed away.
In a way, he  couldn't tolerate staying at home even if everyone from his boyfriend to  his PA, including the Prime Minister, John Watson and the Queen, had  advised him to do so. At first, he had tried to work in his study at the  Cabinet Office, but he had found the noise and the people passing by  barely bearable and had retreated to the Diogene Club, despite  everything around him reminding him from his uncle.
It had been the  old man who had introduced the auburn to the club when he had taken over  for his father, him he had met every weeks for tea in one of the private  lounge before Rudolf more or less retired. It had also been the elder  Holmes who had presented him with the large painting of the Queen in her  young age that was now hanged behind his desk when he had joined the  government, a present the Queen herself had made to the old man once he  had helped her favourite cousin out of a shady scandal back in the day  when she was still a young sovereign.
He was once again deep in his  thought, blaming himself for not saying Rudolf how much he had valued  his concern and his help as a young man when he heard a gentle knock on  the door. He didn't bother answer, knowing who was behind the wood panel  but, once again, whipped a tear from his eye and swallowed hard.
"Darling ?" Greg demanded softly as he was gently stepping in the study. "The car is here."
With  what seemed to be a great effort, the official extract himself from the  armchair and seized the hand his partner was offering him before  letting the policeman led him outside. It wasn't difficult for the  detective to guess how affected his boyfriend could be when, since three  day, he had been more obedient and more willing to be guided he ever  had been in his life. To Gregory, he just looked like a confused little  boy and if the yarder hadn't already had a glimpse at the man beneath  the armour, he easily could have been frightened by the lack of will the  elder Holmes was showing.
The ride to the imposing neo-Gothic church  in Chelsea was short and word deprived, Mycroft gaze constantly through  the window, his hand still closely entangled with his husband's, glad  for the little comfort and warmth the inspector could bring him.
The  small crowd in the yard in front of the church parted as the auburn  stepped out of his car, closely followed by Greg, and joined his  brother, meters away from the heavy wooden doors. Even if the consulting  detective wasn't as close from his uncle as his eldest had been, he  still had some admiration for him and knew what he owed him and was  behaving surprisingly like any grieving grown up, having even agreed to  sport a black tie over what seemed like a new black suit and carefully  varnished shoes. He discreetly nodded to his brother and his husband as  they joined him and the three of them lead the remaining crowd inside,  assuming the front bench for themselves.
Surprisingly enough for  someone like Rudolf, who had stopped attending church as soon as he had  been able to and who had been a proud agnostic all his life, he still  had insisted in the last letter he had written to Mycroft, and which had  been delivered to the young man after his death, that he wanted to be  remembered in St Luke's church before his body was to be donated to the  science for upcoming studies. However, the official had obliged to the  old man last will and had agreed at a religious ceremony and had made  sure that the corpse would go to research on cancer and other diseases  more than ending up being beaten to the pulp by a crop by his brother or  such treatments.
A woman reverend, such an irony in the eye of the  Holmes brothers, entered the church by a door on the west side, joined  the altar and started a discourse Mycroft didn't hear a word of, his  mind wandering miles away to the last time he had walked in this church  nearly forty years ago, only a couple of months before he joined the  Imperial College. It had been the wedding of one of his cousins, a  lovely, mildly intelligent girl just slightly older than him that his  mother would have loved him to spouse of only she hadn't been his cousin  and the official remembered it as one of the worst day from his life.
From  morning until the wedding was over, his mother as well as the entire  range of his aunts and uncles, Rudy excluded as he hadn't been invited,  had been asking him when was he to get married or at least engage, not  finding it appropriated for a young man of his rank to nearly reach the  age of 19 without having at least someone in his life. Once they had  understood there was indeed no one and after the entirety of them  scolding him about how inconvenient that was in his position, they had  tried to get him involved with every unmarried young girl ranging from  the age of 16 to 22, a situation to which the auburn had to fake  agreeing to when he couldn't help his breath to be completely taken away  by the sight of the groom's best man, a youngish blonde man with  elegant features and a lovely laugh.
They had been sat only a couple  of chairs apart during the reception and Mycroft had heard him  discussing classical music and quantic physics with his neighbour during  the entire meal while he had to maintain the conversation with a mildly  good-looking girl his mother had chose for him -whispering to his ear  as she was sitting her beside him that "if this one didn't work, he'd  better turn a monk because none were going to make the deal".-
He never had  had the guts to go and talk to the beautiful man who stayed nothing else  than an image and a laugh to him, although he had had to endure another  half a dozen of pretendants to the point he purposely took the hand of one of them and kissed it in front of a couple of his aunts that were spying in  the background, so they would think he had finally found someone who  satisfied him and stopped their game. He never had called back that girl  but the best man had populated his most sinful dreams for a long while,  blond hair and boyish grin never failing to please the young Mycroft.
He  focused back on what was happening in front of him when he felt Gregory  squeezing his hand a few times, calling out for attention as the  reverend had now fell silent after calling all of those who had  something more to add about the departed to join the rostrum.
Slowly  and his throat dry, the official reluctantly let go his partner's hand  and made his way to the little wooden platform on the side of the altar.  He let his gaze wander over the assembly for a few seconds before  seeking for comfort, surprisingly not in Greg's eyes but in Sherlock's,  the Holmes brother not being really close but always able to bond when  time called for it.
"My uncle had had quite of a life and despite not being someone to really express his feelings – a family trait I suppose –  I can assure you he would have been very touched and honour to see all  of you gathering together." the auburn started, his voice, steadier than  he would have believed it could be, echoing through the great hall.  "Most of you won't know me, as much as I actually don't know most of  you, the strict separation between private and public life being another  of our family trait I fear but I think you ought to know that Rudy  wasn't only a great lawyer as well as an occasional teacher. He was  before everything a kind and generous human being who always tried to  see the best in the people he met."
The elder Holmes marked a break,  unsure to if he was going to have the bravery to tell what he had  planned to say but a small, knowing nod of the sleuth filled him back  with courage, and he continued, his voice still clear and steady despite  the wobble that was going inside him. "He haven't always been thanked  as much as he should have, a treated as fairly as he deserved,  especially by those you would have expected to be here but shine by  their non-attendance. Rudolf, unlike them, was able not to judge or  condemn before knowing and understood that a human being, as flawed as  he can be, is rarely malicious or purely evil. My uncle was able to  defend the case of an IRA bomber without judging him, even tho the act he had done had caused dozens of fatalities, because he considered  it wasn't his duty to decide who was good or who was evil. He  considered every human being should have a chance to explain themselves  because we rarely commit offense without reasons. You who have worked  with him knows more than me that truth but all I know is that when the rest of my family was being prejudice and stuck up to outdated belief, Rudy was the only one not to care about what I did, believed in or who I was haunting  as long as I was safe, respectful and more than anything happy and  until the end of my days I'll never be thankful enough to him for having  been here to support me."
Without a look for the crowd who was  clapping their hands, Mycroft made his way back to the front bench and  claimed back his seat between his brother and his husband. Eyes hooked  to the ground he felt the policeman wrapping his arm around his  shoulders and gently tracing circle on his collarbone with his thumb and  the way more unusual feeling of the consulting detective hand briefly  squeezing his forearm. The movement had been brief, barely lasting a  second but the auburn knew it had happened and how much it meant coming  from the younger Holmes.