Socially Expired

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/53432986.

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category: M/M
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Relationship: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Characters: Mycroft Holmes, Greg Lestrade, Anthea
Additional Tags: socially expired, tiredness, caring Greg, Tired Mycroft, do not copy to
another site
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2024-01-31 Words: 653 Chapters: 1/1
 Socially Expired
by silentscholar

Summary

She closed the door and turned to face him.

‘Mr Holmes has had to go home. To rest.’
‘What?! Why? What’s wrong with him?’
‘He’s……’ she paused.
Greg growled. ‘Anthea,’ he gritted out, ‘tell me what’s wrong with him now or so help me…’
Greg looked at his phone as it rang out then rang off. No answer. That was odd. He tried
again. Same - ringing then cut off.

He checked his watch and made his way to Mycroft’s office. Usually, Mycroft answered his
call, they had that kind of relationship now. The relationship were there were dinners, walks
in the park, shared whiskeys, an invite to a play, a hand held – and phone calls answered.

‘Ah…..Detective Inspector,’ said Anthea, looking decidedly uncomfortable. ‘I was not

expecting you today. There was no appointment booked…’

‘No,’ smiled Greg, ruffling a hand through his silver hair. ‘I tried phoning but there was no
answer just wanted to know if he fancied dinner tonight. Finished earlier than I thought,
super’s taking his wife out so…here I am.’

‘Yes….’ She drawled out.

He raised his eyebrows, inquiring. ‘Everything alright? He in or busy?’

‘He’s…..unavailable at the moment.’

‘Oh, well I can wait.’

‘Unavailable for quite a while in actual fact.’

Greg was now suspicious. Anthea was usually more forthcoming than this. ‘Meeting?
Impending war?’

She sighed, then motioned for him to come into Mycroft’s office.

It was empty.

‘What’s going on?’

She closed the door and turned to face him.

‘Mr Holmes has had to go home. To rest.’

‘What?! Why? What’s wrong with him?’

‘He’s……’ she paused.

Greg growled. ‘Anthea,’ he gritted out, ‘tell me what’s wrong with him now or so help me…’

‘Please Detective. I…’ she seemed to hold a thought in her mouth. ‘He has SE.’

‘ME? Isn’t that some chronic tiredness….’

‘No! S E. He has socially expired.’

Greg’s mouth opened, waiting for his brain to collect some suitable words which would ask
to clarify what Anthea had just said.

‘Please….Greg. Only I, and now you, well Sherlock and now John I suspect, know this. Mr
Holmes can suffer from too much social interaction, especially after a couple of heavy days
in meetings and he….needs to rest.’

‘Where is he?’

‘At home. Where he must not be disturbed. Mr Holmes needs some uninterrupted time to
recover from the effects of dealing with people before it imperils his health. He has tea and
honey and is well provided for in groceries.’

‘I need to see him.’

Anthea looked at the floor, sighing again. ‘He needs to be left alone.’

‘I need to look after him,’ Greg growled. ‘Tell your security I’m going to the house.’ And
with that he stormed out.

‘As you command, Inspector,’ she muttered to an empty room.

**********

Closing the door quietly, Greg kicked off his shoes.

‘Myc?’ he called, not too loud but enough to announce his presence. He checked downstairs.
No Mycroft.

‘Myc?’ he called again, as he made his way upstairs. The bedroom door was slightly ajar. He
pushed it open slowly, careful not to startle the occupier.

There lying in bed was Mycroft. Soft red hair in pillow disarray, an empty cup of tea and jar
of honey on the bedside table. Stripping off his jacket, unbuttoning his trousers, Greg quietly
climbed in, spooning the back of the man.

‘Myc?’ he whispered, tightening his hold as Mycroft suddenly jumped in alert. ‘Hey, it’s me.
Greg. Just checking you’re ok. Anthea said you’d had a rough couple of days and needed to
rest.’

‘Grego…’ he cleared his throat. ‘Gregory?’

‘Yeah, love. Was worried, been phoning you. Anth said you’ve socially expired and need
some time to yourself.’ A sleepy nod confirmed this. ‘Ok, if I stay with you? Help take care
of you?’ He kissed his temple. Another sleepy nod confirmed that was ok.

The room was dark. Mycroft had blackout curtains. They curled together, in the quiet. Two
mice in a burrow, hibernating from people and the world.
After a while, a whisper was spoken into the dark, like a secret.

‘Sometimes I’ve just had enough of people.’

‘I know love. I know. Me too.’

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