Chapter Text
Mycroft ascends the stairs to his elegantly appointed townhouse, unlocking the door with a sense of relief. The prospect of a soothing shower, a meticulous shave, and a perfectly brewed cup of tea beckons him. He places his sleek leather briefcase in his tastefully arranged home office and bounds up the staircase with renewed energy. Now that he has left behind the sterile confines of his office, his nerves begin to unwind, feeling less like iron chains and more like manageable threads. Shedding the constraints of his tailored work suit, he tosses the crisp dress shirt and vest into the laundry basket with a sense of liberation. Sliding into the comfort of his plush dressing gown, he makes his way to the bathroom, one of his sanctuary-like favorite rooms in the house. The bathroom is a masterpiece of design, boasting polished marble surfaces and gleaming fixtures. He turns the shower's tap, releasing a cascade of hot water, and places a luxuriously fluffy, white towel on the heated towel rack, anticipating its warmth. With deliberate care, Mycroft slips the gleaming gold ring from his right hand’s ring finger, setting it gently on the cool countertop. Hanging his dressing gown on the back of the door, he steps into the inviting embrace of the shower stall. The water is a comforting heat, working its magic to untangle the knots and ease the tension from his muscles. He reaches for his favorite body wash, its fragrance a delicate whisper that won't overpower the cologne he plans to wear later.
As the water ceases its flow, he reaches for the towel, its warmth enveloping him in a cozy embrace as he dries off, securing it snugly at his waist. The mirror is a hazy blur of steam, which he clears with a swipe of his hand, revealing his reflection. Carefully, he shaves away the day’s accumulation of stubble with precision; razor burn is not an accessory he wishes to sport for his evening engagement.
He slips the gold ring back onto his finger, regarding his reflection thoughtfully. The ring, a silent testament to something personal, is best left unexplained, though he trusts Gregory won’t pry into its meaning. Content with his appearance, he leaves the ring in place, a quiet emblem of his own untold story.
The next task on his agenda is to select the perfect outfit for his date. His wardrobe boasts an array of blue suits, each finely tailored and exuding a unique charm. After some deliberation, he opts for the one with delicate pale blue pinstripes that harmonize beautifully with the crisp shirt he has already chosen. Accessories are next on the list, and he recalls Anthea's advice to forgo the waistcoat, steering his focus to selecting the right cufflinks and watch. His extensive collection of cufflinks glints under the light, each pair a testament to his meticulous taste. After a contemplative selection process, he picks a pair of elegant silver cufflinks adorned with a striking blue stone, complemented by a sleek silver watch with a matching blue face. He lays everything out meticulously on the bed, admiring the ensemble before retreating to the window seat with a book in hand.
This rare pocket of free time feels like a luxury, and he relishes the opportunity to unwind a bit before his evening begins. The book, which has been languishing on his nightstand, beckons him to resume a journey he can barely recall. As he reads, he remains vigilant of the ticking clock, determined not to let time slip away and make him late. By 6:05, he reluctantly sets the book aside and begins to dress with care. The suit and shirt fit him like a glove, the cufflinks are fastened with precision, and the watch slides smoothly beneath the cuff of his dress shirt. He dons the suit jacket with deliberate gentleness, ensuring no creases mar the fabric's pristine surface. A quick visit to the bathroom has him applying a dash of cologne, its scent adding a final touch of sophistication. He steps into his polished shoes, feeling the anticipation build.
Anthea had playfully suggested a stiff drink before Gregory’s arrival, but he decides against it, preferring to remain clear-headed for the evening’s dinner. As he reaches the bottom of the stairs, the doorbell’s chime resonates through the house. Taking a deep breath, he opens the front door to find Gregory standing there, a smile lighting his face. “Hello Gregory.”
“Hi Mycroft. You look very nice,” He remarks warmly as he steps into the grand foyer, wrapping him in a friendly embrace. The space is filled with soft lighting, casting a gentle glow on the polished marble floors.
“You look very elegant, Gregory,” he replies, returning the embrace and then leaning in to plant a tender kiss on his cheek as he pulls away, a subtle scent of cologne lingering in the air.
“Are you ready to go to dinner?” He asks with a broad, inviting smile that lights up his face.
“Absolutely. Do I need my coat?” He inquires, turning towards the ornate closet door, its mahogany wood gleaming in the light.
“It’s up to you. We’re only going from here to the car and then the car to the restaurant. I’ll keep you warm if you get cold,” He assures him, his voice carrying a playful undertone.
He blushes, a hint of pink coloring his cheeks, understanding the sweet implication behind his words. He finds the idea delightful and closes the closet door with a soft click. “Let’s go then,” he says with a small, pleased smile.
“Can I ask you something?” He pauses, his hand resting on the intricately carved door handle.
“Of course you can. What is it?” He asks gently, his voice full of curiosity.
“Do you mind if I hold your hand?” He asks earnestly, his gaze sincere and hopeful.
“No, of course not. I would like it very much, actually,” he admits, a soft smile gracing his lips, as he reaches out, intertwining his fingers with Greg’s.