The BMW slid smoothly into the driveway of Mycroft's Manor. The man himself parked gently before leaving, taking his briefcase and umbrella with him. He was dressed in a full three piece suit with a long coat over the top, hair slicked over, he was (or had been) in business mode. As he walked round the car towards the door he reached into his pocket for his keys. It took him mere seconds to unlock and enter, cautiously looking around as to not startle any other house members. He placed his briefcase by the wall, took off his shoes and hung up his coat. Finally, he undid his suit jacket and hung it on another coat hook, leaving him in a black waistcoat (with a red chequered decoration) and a crisp white shirt. Tentatively, he stepped into the living room.
"Gregory?"
Greg was having a very lazy morning. Due to his usual busy schedule, he hadn't really found the time to explore and enjoy the house that came with his husband, until he became pregnant. Mycroft being Mycroft insisted Greg stop work immediately, the DI managed to squeeze two more months out of him and was practically dragged from the Yard at the end of them, but the leave gave him the opportunity to have the adventure he'd always dreamed of. By day two he'd broken the automatic blinds and wedged a sword into an old painting, Mycroft wasn't entirely impressed. The flat screen television that had been hidden behind a faux bookcase was entirely worth the wait, and how he had intended to spend the day. He had tested the limits of the house and explored every aspect of it, there wasn't much left to do. Plus, the difficulty of being now 8 months pregnant meant there wasn't much he could do. His insides were a battle ground for tiny fists and feet, not that he didn't enjoy it but it made living harder, and walking. Honestly, he was bored, and he missed Mycroft like hell. When he was working he could at least distract himself, but when at home his lover's long hours were all too heavy. He'd barely seen Mycroft in months, he was always gone before Greg woke and back when he was sleeping. When he was working their hours just about collided but now it was almost agonisingly quiet.
He woke up, got dressed into a pair of tracksuit bottoms and his extra large Star Wars tee (Mycroft had donated it to him on the promise they never discuss 'those days') and made his way down to the kitchen. He was just about to dish up his bacon sandwich, jump on the sofa (well, gently sit) and watch television, when he heard his name being called.
"Mycroft?"
The sound made Mycroft's heart melt, it had been far too long. He felt incredibly guilty, even before Greg became pregnant he'd hated his hours. He'd missed so much, missed Greg so much, which is why he'd finally done what he'd wanted to for months if not years.
He fast walked through the living room to the kitchen, stopping at the open doorway. A sigh fell from his mouth at the sight of his love.
"What's wrong? Did you forget something? Has something happened? Are you ill?" Greg asked, confused and worried.
"No, not at all I...I just booked six months off"
"....six months off what?"
Mycroft's response was a smile. It took Greg a moment but when it sunk in he gasped.
"Off work? Are you crazy? You're sick aren't you"
Mycroft laughed and walked over, gently wrapping his arms around his husband's waist. Greg blushed and laced his hands around the taller man's neck, drawing him in for a soft but passionate kiss. They both giggled on parting and had a minor quarrel over who was going to speak first, somehow managing to say the same thing at the same time...
"I missed you so much"
