I am not lonely [Mystrade]

CHAPTER 191 : The monster under my bed

Greg was sat stiff in the driver seat, deeply lost in his thoughts  and it took him several minutes before he noticed that his youngests were  shouting at him to be freed from their booster. Slowly, he disembarked  and helped his son and daughter out of the car, not answering any of the  questions he was asked.

The children ran to the front door as it  spread open, revealing the elder Holmes. The man quickly hugged Aelane  and Alden before directing them to the kitchen were Michael had prepared  them their afternoon snack, chocolate brownie and English custard.  Christmas was round the corner and the cook was trying out a bunch of  new recipe for the holidays, and he had no better tasters than the  Holmes-Lestrade children.

The muffled sound of the front door indicated that the detective had finally entered the place, but  he didn't bother pop his head through the kitchen door and directly  directed himself upstairs to get change. For anyone else, it wouldn't  have been a big clue of what was going on but Mycroft was no commoner,  and he had got very accustomed to each and every detail of the  inspector's behaviour and that was definitely out of the scheme.

With  a little wink to his children, he let them to the careful watch of  Michael and joined his partner upstairs. He gently knocked on the locked  door of the bathroom, quite concerned about his boyfriend behaviour but  obtained no answer whatsoever.

"Darling ? Is everything alright ?" he wondered softly, his mouth inches away from the door.

A  grunt was the only answer he received, confirming the presence of the  older man in the room and the unusual nature of his behaviour.

"Gregory honey, would you just unlock the door please?" the politician tried again, very careful not to seem bothered or angry.

Another  displeased grunt was the policeman's only answer making the official  even more worried about what was happening. Determine to let himself in,  he quietly made his way to his bedside table and grabbed the little  pocket knife resting there. He swiftly engaged the blade in the  bathroom's door lock and toyed with him for a few seconds before he  heard a little 'click' sound. Slowly he opened the now unlocked door .

The  detective was sat in the shower cabin, his eyes red and dry, as if he  had tried to cry but had been unable to do so. Quietly, the elder Holmes  sat beside him and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. Reassured on his  physical health, he knew that none of his word could put the policeman  to ease. His presence and support were the only things able to help at  the moment .

"Will it be any kind of a life ?" the inspector mumbled after a long time.

"It's not the 1920's anymore love ..." Mycroft smiled shyly, knowing that his argument was quite poor.

"What does that even mean ?" Greg wondered, not convinced.

"Science have made incredible progress these last years." the official tried to explain, squizzing the other man's hand in a comforting gesture.

"But there is no cure, you've heard it like I did." the policeman shook his head.

"There are things to make it easier, to suppress most of the symptoms." the politician nuanced. "Some of the best specialist in the world are here, in London. We can ask for their help if you want."

"I don't know what I want." the inspector muttered, distressed. "Maybe I just want to forget about today, to pretend it never existed and that everything is just as it should be ..."

"Come here ..."  the elder Holmes breathed, attracting his partner's head on his  shoulder and holding him tight as the man finally started crying.