Fever

curious

It was about seven when the bell rang again.
Greg's heart started beating.
He went to the door, but this time at a normal pace, and tried to calm down. Or more precisely, to convince himself that it wouldn't be the expected, hoped-for visit anyway, to keep the disappointment within limits. Probably the neighbour or someone had misplaced the bell button.
It opened, and outside the door was truly and really Mycroft Holmes.

Greg's heart was beating a bit faster.
He couldn't help putting a big, happy smile on his face.
"Good evening, Mr Holmes. Do come in."
He stepped aside and let his visitor in.
Mycroft Holmes entered the flat. Greg took off his coat and hung it on the coat rack.
"Let's go into the living room," Greg said, and went ahead.
He sat down on the sofa and told Holmes to sit in the armchair.

They were both awkwardly silent. Neither of them knew exactly what to say.
"Well, I..." Holmes began.
"It's nice." Greg started talking to him at the same time.
Again they were silent.
Greg stopped for breath.
"Mr. Holmes, I'm glad you finally decided to come and see me in person."
The other one nodded.
"I wanted to check on you... make sure you were feeling better."

At that moment, Greg noticed that there was still a second cup on the table. He hadn't put it away earlier. He blushed.
Mycroft noticed the cup, of course, and Greg's reaction. He realised what it meant.
My God, he thought, sitting here, like teenagers on their very first date... I feel like I'm 16 right now.
"May I ask if there's any tea left in the pot, and if so, do you feel able to offer me some tea, DI Lestrade?" he asked.
Greg jumped up and pushed his knee against the table, making the dishes clink.
"No, I'm out of tea, but of course..."
"Please don't get up. I'll make some more tea. I know where your kitchen is."
Mycroft put his hand on Greg's shoulder, gently pushed him back onto the sofa.
"You're still ill, after all, and need to rest."

Gregory let it happen, with no resistance.
He was far too captivated by the touch.
It had felt so good. Holmes' warm, gentle hand on his shoulder. It tickles where he had touched him and Greg closed his eyes to feel the wonderful sensation.
And at that moment at the latest, Greg was also completely clear that he had fallen in love.

They didn't talk about it. They enjoyed the evening, drank their tea together.
They talked, exchanging thoughts. What music they liked, what films, what books they read, what hobbies they had ("Hobbies? Oh DI Lestrade, my working life won't allow it...") and when the pot was empty, Mycroft prepared a plate of sandwiches for him before he said goodbye and left.

He had promised to come back this time the next day.
It became naturalised.
Mycroft phoned in the afternoon to ask what the DI needed. And then he came in the evening, brought what was needed, prepared tea and sat down with Greg in the living room.

As the week went on, Greg gradually improved.
By Thursday evening he was so far recovered that he forbade Mycroft to go into the kitchen.
"I'd like to perform my own hosting duties, Mycroft," he said.
Mycroft smiled.
"Gladly, DI..."
But Greg drove into his word.
"Gregory... If you don't...mind if I just call you Mycroft, then please call me Gregory. Or Greg."
Mycroft nodded.
"Gregory," he said, looking very pleased.
They both enjoyed their lessons together. They had many topics of conversation that interested them both and discovered a lot of similarities.

On Friday Greg felt quite well again.
He was still on sick leave for the weekend; he would really recover and go back to work on Monday.
There should be clear, frosty weather in the next few days. If that was the case, he would take a few short walks, because cold clear air was good for the respiratory system.
Perhaps he and Mycroft could... He decided to ask him tonight.
There was something else he was going to ask him.
Something that was rather important to him.

As they sat together at tea, it burst out of Gregory:
"Mycroft, tell me something, why?"
Mycroft looked at him in amazement.
"Why what?"
"Why have you come to me? Have cared for me all these days?"
Mycroft was silent for a moment.
Then he said..:
"Sherlock asked me to."
"Mycroft, don't take me for a fool. You don't usually jump off the handle when Sherlock asks you to do something."
"Sherlock did ask me to do it. But the reason I agreed to his request is because I care about you."
And to his amazement, Greg felt Mycroft gently put his hand on his.

Mycroft's heart was beating in his throat.
It took him a few seconds to realise that Gregory was not pulling his hand away, but was simply looking at him with big, coffee-brown eyes.
...and put a smile on his face.
Then he heard Gregory's voice softly.
"I care for you too, Mycroft."

Greg took a breath, looked at the man opposite and said..:
"I... I want to ask you something else."