Greg had heard absolute horror-stories from John. And he’d exchanged hundreds of texts with an ambiguously named assistant. But, Greg had, quite embarrassingly, never actually met the man. After four years of working with his brother.
But now, Greg was finally going to meet the fabled Mycroft Holmes… at his brother’s funeral.

He had been subtly searching for Mycroft throughout the service, though it’s quite difficult when all you have to work with is the backs of various heads, but, he had almost immediate success at the wake.
Greg walked in and scanned the room, and there was Molly Hooper, sobbing, hanging on to the arm of an uncomfortable looking man with almost familiar blue eyes. Bingo.

The DI walked over just as Molly gasped out an, “it’s just awful not telling them…” and the man hurriedly shushed her with a quick glare.
Greg looked at her curiously, before remembering his initial motive and turning to face Mycroft Holmes, at last.
“…Mycroft right? Let me just say how sorry I am-“
Mycroft cut him off quickly, “Yes. It’s quite alright, Detective Inspector. It’s not your fault. “
“Well…” Greg replied uncertainly.
“ Guilt won’t help anything; I assure you. “
“Right…” Greg felt a weight that he didn’t know was present in the first place lift suddenly off of his shoulders. “…well that’s not the only thing I wanted to…”
He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, then tried to right himself.
“I just figured I should finally meet you… it’s not the best timing but…”
“Yes. Unfortunate.” Mycroft responded quickly.

Greg wasn’t sure how to handle him, really.
“Would you want to sit together… to officially meet? Four years late…” Greg asked cautiously.
“Ah. No. I really must be going. Things to attend to…”
“Oh, right. I’ve heard about this job of yours…”
Mycroft grimaced, “Of course, and I’m sure you’ve heard lots of other things as well…”
Greg smiled almost unconsciously, “Yes, but, you could never really accept much of what he said at face value…”
“Of course.” Mycroft gave him a quick smile. “Good day, Detective Inspector.”
Greg looked up. “Good-“ but he was gone.
He went to find John.
~
“How was the service?”
“What sort of a question is that supposed to be?” Greg didn’t bother looking up from the coffee pot.
“I just…” Anderson stammered.
“It was fine, Anderson. Very funeral-like.” Greg wasn’t in the mood for this forgiveness quest. .
“Good… um… I don’t suppose you met his brother…”
Greg gave him a look.
“I just… you see…”
“Spit it out then,” the detective said, turning to face the other man.
“… I have some theories about, you know, how… he… could be alive…”
Greg looked at him again.
“His brother’d be fairly important to each of them and…” Anderson faltered out.
Then he blushed, “Well, anyways, what did you…think?”
“Excuse me?” Greg already had a headache.
Anderson straightened out, “…just thought you’d be… cute…”
“…excuse me?!” Greg repeated.
“Um… hmm… you didn’t like him, then?”
“Well I…” Greg then remembered a pair of striking blue eyes, almost red hair, and a distracting smile… then blushed suddenly.

Anderson broke out into a broad grin and gave a quiet, “Yes!”.
Greg recovered enough to stammer out a just barely coherent, “What are you trying to do? You two friends or something?”
“I’m just… no, I don’t actually know him. But I’ve been doing research,” he gestured to a bursting binder he had been carrying, “…anyways. Not important. Just talk to him. Maybe. And tell me when you do… oH MY GOD. HE ACTUALLY LIKES HIM.”

Greg watched as the forensics officer walked off, giggling madly about things coming together and… pirates?
He was honestly a little worried for him but… if he really thought it could work out based on his… research…
Greg shuddered a bit at that.
Then, well… Greg had been meaning to get back into dating…