You're...what?

"You're....what?"

Greg rubbed his eyes, squinting tiredly into the dark that Mycroft stood within. The cold breeze encouraged him more and more to close the door on his visitor, to go back to bed. God knows what time it was, but for some reason the elder Holmes had decided this was the perfect time to-
"I'm moving in Gregory"

Mycroft gestured to the small carry case beside him, though Greg wasn't convinced that was all he'd be bringing. That considering Mycroft practically lived in three piece suits, heck he even wore one to bed once...or was it twice?...

The detective gave another puzzled look and in response gestured to his small, slightly tatty apartment. Mycroft sighed.
"Granted, this place will need some adjustments to be of my liking, but I simply could not stand to be without you Gregory, and you refused to accommodate at my home when I offered, therefore it would be-"
"Look, Myc, firstly please, just call me Greg ok? You sound like my mother, and on that note I don't need you to look after me, I'm fine, you don't need to move in with me"
"But I want to move in with you, I want to be with you"
Damn, he knew there was a reason he fell in love with him. Genuine confessions like that was one of them... Yet another arrow straight to the heart.

"As for you being..."fine" your colleagues have told me otherwise, that you have been consistently unwell. You do look pale Grego-...Greg, and I am increasingly worried about your wellbeing. Just...answer me honestly, have you been avoiding me because you are unwell? Know that I am not deterred but rather hurt that you didn't think you could confide in me, you know I want what's best for you. Please, darling let me assist you in whichever way I can. Whatever it is you need, if I had to...I would search the Earth to find it for you"

Mycroft took a step into the flat, looking down at Greg with warmth and worry. Jesus why did he have to be so smooth. He had no doubt Mycroft would do anything to make him happy, and him being the British Government that could really be anything. Like all those mysterious raises and updates in technology at the yard, those complaints that had mysteriously disappeared, they all stunk of his power-happy boyfriend. He still wasn't comfortable with it all. Greg could see it clearly, Mycroft would move in, Greg would catch a cold, the whole yard would be quarantined and possibly sacked because of it.

The last few weeks had been agony. Ever since he'd found out...
Yes, he'd been avoiding Mycroft, but only because he was afraid of what he would say, or do. It was horrible to admit, but Mycroft bloody Holmes was the best thing that had ever happened to him. He couldn't ask for a better partner in life, but he didn't know how much longer that would last.
He put his head in his hands, this was all too conflicting. Almost as soon as he had, he felt a hand on his wrist, holding gently.

"Gregory, my love, my darling, my heart. Tell me what's wrong"
Those kindest and softest words burned as Lestrade gathered himself.

Here's your opening, now's the time

He lowered his arms and shifted away from Mycroft, letting the confused glance of his partner sting straight through him. This was the best way to do it.

"Why don't you tell me?" Greg asked blankly.
Mycroft struggled for words as he tried to contemplate the situation.
"....I don't understand"
"You're the genius, go on, deduce me, what's your analysis?"
"Obviously you are unwell"
"And?"

Watching the gears turn in his love's head was surprisingly amusing, he didn't think he'd ever seen Mycroft this confused. He kept a straight face and waited.

"...you...declined all of my date invitations, and have acted rather coldly towards me... I thought at first you were upset with me, but the CCTV shows you have been wearing more of the clothes I have given you, even clothes of my own that I had left here..."
Of course he'd notice that, of course he would.
"I also checked your computer and-"
"I told you to stop doing that"
"I was worried about you!"
"Then do something to distract yourself like...knitting, or something"

Mycroft sceptically raised an eyebrow at that last comment as Greg's poker face cracked into a small smirk. The vision of Mycroft knitting was just too much, especially a stressed Mycroft knitting.
"If I may continue"
"You may"

"You were researching paid sick leave and hospital care, which led me to believe you were seriously ill. This was backed up by the sight of you regularly...vomiting-"
Mycroft flashed a look of serious worry over to Greg upon saying that word. Why did he have to make him feel so guilty for hiding this?
"-into your office bin. I then had words with your colleagues who were also concerned. I have noted that you have had troubles eating, that you are much more susceptible to extreme moods, and also that-"

He paused, looking over at Greg, checking him up and down. My god I think he's got it. Wait, was Mycroft smiling? No, not the reaction Greg was expecting at all.
"What is it?" Greg asked, blushing as Mycroft was once again lost for words.

"...also that you're wearing an old pair of pyjamas that I let you borrow from me, and they fit you a lot better than they did before"

"Is that the polite way of saying I'm fat?"
"Pregnant would be a closer term don't you think?"

Greg smiled
"Yeah, I guess you're right"