I am not lonely [Mystrade]

CHAPTER 132 : The House on the Cliff

Gregory pulled out on a small muddy pathway surrounded by high and thick hedges. Patches of high grasses rubbed under the car but the policeman didn't stop before he reached his destination, a relatively modest-looking white cottage on the edge of a cliff. He switched the engine off and turned to face the passenger seat where Mycroft was sat. The official hadn't said a single word since they had left London in the first hours of the morning and his knuckles were snow-white from being so tensed for so long.
The yarder attempted to smile at him but the younger man didn't answer it and simply nodded before exiting the car and making his way to the massive wooden door. He carefully seized an antic-looking key from the inside pocket of his coat and slipped it in the keyhole. With a sinister rasping the key turned and the door opened, revealing a hallway filled with darkness and a stuffy smell. Not bothering to lock the car, the detective followed his partner inside, not even surprised by the amount of dust gathered over the furnitures. If it wasn't for that, he could have thought that the house's inhabitant had just left for a couple of days.
A coat was still hanged carelessly on the hanger on the back of the door and a stack of opened envelops were waiting to be sorted on the shoe's cabinet. As the inspector strolled through the rooms on the first floor, he had to be surprised by the relative mess that was showing. Numerous pictures had been framed and displayed orderlessly on the chimney mantel. By the ray of light that was passing through the nearly closed shutters, Greg remarked a small silver-framed black and white picture featuring a smiling and quite handsome youngish man, the shape of his nose and hair pattern clearly showing his allegiance to the Holmes family, holding a moody baby with a single curly lock of hair.
"Myc' ?" he called out. "Where are you ?"
No answer came apart from a muffled sound from a room upstairs. The policeman quickly joined his husband in a small red and white bedroom. The auburn was sat in a luxurious armchair, a leatherback book or notebook, it wasn't very clear to the DCI from where he was standing, in his long and gentle hands, the shutters half-opened to let some light in and allow him to read whatever the book was about.
"Myc' ?" Greg tried again, his voice smooth and low.
"It had my name on it." the official explained, nodding toward the book, his voice rough of not speaking for that long.
"What is it about ?" the older man wondered, approaching gently from the armchair in order to be able to have a better look at the item.
"It's I don't know, some kind of diary I suppose." the elder Holmes replied, letting the other man have a look. "All the result of Uncle Rudy's research, his thoughts, his battles, everything. There is seven of those. God knows why it had my name on it really ..."
"Maybe he wanted to explain you all the things he never told you when he was still there ?" the policeman tried before pulling out of his pocket the small silver frame he had found downstairs and showing it to the official. "Is that you ?"
"Yes. I think it's the first picture Uncle and I had together." Mycroft nodded, a little smile cracking through his mask as he seized the frame from his husband's hands. "Haven't seen it in years."
"You look pretty alike, you and Rudy." softly remarked the detective.
"Apart that he was shorter and blonde, I suppose there is some truth in that ..." the elder Holmes chuckled before closing his book and standing back on his feet. "Well, I suppose if we want to get things done we'd better start by opening the shutters and windows to get rid of this old library smell, what do you reckon ?"
The detective nodded before leaving the room and heading back downstairs, starting to open wide every window he encountered, carefully closing the doors between every room to avoid any air flows. The vicinity wasn't particularly large but it was well-built and furnished and probably way too big for a single man, especially an elderly one.
The small kitchen had a large window showing the superb landscape of the sea down the cliff and, despite the naughty smell of the room, the two men decided to have diner there, not speaking much, eyes staring absentmindly at the nature outside while they were eating the fish and chips they had bought in the nearby village of Coverack before arriving.
Greg would have wished to find the words to get rid of the veil of sadness that was covering his partner's face but everything he was thinking about were just stupid convenient sentences that he had heard in films and he preferred to keep his mouth shut, even tho the sadness of the auburn was killing him inside.
They spent the evening reading in the living room, a warm fire alighted in the chimney, Mycroft heavily absorbed in one of Rudy's dairy while Greg had picked a volume of Agatha Christie's story on the shelves of the library established in Rudolf's office upstairs. The inspector couldn't help but look up to the official regularly, sometime catching a grin on his face as he must have been reading something fun or, most probably, something about him and his uncle.
The night was already quite advanced when they joined the guest bedroom upstairs and laid below the sheets in the old squeaky bed, Mycroft nestling himself in his lover's arms to fight the coldness of the room and be comforted by the presence of the older man.
Thanks to the help of the two housekeeper that had been called for the task, the house was yet again clean and rid of all dust and stuffy smell on the next evening and if it wasn't for the numerous picture of Rudolf standing by different personality, most of them unknown to Greg, it could have seemed like the place was nothing else than an extension of the Holmes Mansion in London.
The auburn was elegantly sat in the deep red velor-covered couch by the fireplace, still absorbed by one of Rudy's diary, the reading of those seemingly helping him to coop with the death of his favourite uncle. The policeman, on the other hand was leaned against the kitchen window, gazing at the sea below the house, letting his thoughts wanders.
Despite the fact of being more of a city man, he never failed to see the beauty and the poetry of such landscape and if it wasn't for his son that was waiting for him in London and for his job that was pilling up on his desk he would have stayed in Cornwall for many more days. He just couldn't have enough of the colours of the sun downing in the sea and couldn't help to think that selling the cottage would be a waste.
Mycroft had voiced up the wish to get rid of the place the night before as they were going to sleep. He didn't wanted to have anything to do with his uncle cottage and was ready to sell it as soon as it would have been emptied of the valuable things he wished to keep. The detective had protested, trying to remark that if Rudolf had devised him the house it wasn't for him to sell it as soon as he would be able too but the elder Holmes hadn't listen to any of his argument and simply confirmed what he had first said, he would mandate people to come and pick up the valuables than sell the house as soon as he would be back in London.
With a sigh, the yarder stepped away from the window and retreated to the living room, resting his head on his partner's left shoulder, trying to read a little of the book he himself was reading. The official diverted his attention from the writing of his uncle and smiled to the older man;
"What were you doing ?" the auburn wondered softly.
"Nothing. Just looking outside; It's very pretty round here." the inspector replied, taking a seat beside his husband.
"Hmm ... I can understand why Uncle had chose this place. That's very like the romantic yet a little lonely person he was ..." the elder Holmes nodded, closing his book and wrapping his arms around the other man's torso, pulling him closer and resting him against his stomach.
"And it isn't like you ?" the yarder tried again gently.
"Gregory, I've already told you I'm not keeping this place. It's too far from London and not fit for a young child." Mycroft tutted him gently. "Plus, why would we need another house when we already have too much space in Kensington ?"
"It's just something like three hours by train; And we can find a way to make it a safe space for children if we really want to." denied the detective.
"I know you like the house but I'm not keeping it." the official still stated. "If you want we will buy one closer from London and already fit for any kind of usage we need but we are not keeping this one."
"Is there anything that could make you change your mind ?" pouted the inspector.
"Except if the ghost of Uncle Rudy appears to me before tomorrow night and force me to keep it, I don't think so, no." concluded the auburn before placing a soft peck on his partner's scalp and grabbing back his book.
Greg sighed once again before letting himself go completely against his lover's body. He was usually the only one to be able to make Mycroft change his mind but even him wasn't able to avoid the selling of the house and he felt a little bad for that. Of course, he understood why the auburn didn't wanted to keep the cottage and he knew it was more to do with the fact that it was reminding him too much of Rudolf more than it not being fit for children, and, of course, he understood that it was a sensible reason to try to get away, but for him who wasn't as attached as his husband to the late Uncle Rudy, he still had a feeling of waste when thinking about not ever coming back to the house on the cliff.

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Sorry for such a short chapter but I'm building a new narrative arch  and I need to make averything fit so you will be able to have the big surprise of it exactly for christmas, not before and not after ...

Hope you still enjoyed the chapter and thank you for sticking around for so long.

Love

Dan