The Case Of The Pharmasist's Price

Grayson felt Price grip him tightly. To his shame his only thoughts had been for Price when the news of the joint abduction had reached him. Despite Sherlock's injury, the man had acted calmly, coolly and in the detached manner that Grayson had known so well and it had not seemed to affect him that John was in the Counts clutches. Grayson had not given any thought to what the Count might have done to his friend until Price had quietly whispered those details of their ordeal that he knew. Now Grayson felt privileged to see the depths of affection that lay behind Sherlock's coldly calculating facade.

A discreet cough from Spencer had Grayson's attention diverted to the dark detective as he spoke.

"If you please, Mr Mycroft, I would like to arrange a day's holiday. Robert did me the honour of agreeing to move into my house and there are arrangements I need to make."

"Indeed, my boy? Let me see, today is Wednesday. Be back here at eight-thirty sharp on Monday morning."

"Sir?"

"Are you intending to question my decision or accept it?"

"Accept it, sir. Thank you, sir."

The joyful grin that Spencer aimed at Robert transformed the dark man's features and Grayson could almost see his protégé melt from its brilliance. He released his lover who hugged each man in turn before they left. If anyone other than Grayson noticed the redness of Sherlock's eyes as he shook hands with Spencer and Robert, they did not speak of it.

"Spencer is a good man, Mycroft. He will go a long way. Nurture him."

"I'm glad you think so. I have already accelerated his position under my jurisdiction. Perhaps I may lend him to you occasionally so he can hone up on deductive reasoning."

"He will be welcome."

Listening to the dialogue, Grayson decided that it was time to leave Sherlock and John with Mycroft. If he was fully honest, he wanted to go home, lock the place securely and spend the last of the day in bed with his beloved.

"I think we need to go home," he said. "I'm sorry to say I feel quite exhausted."

"We'll call round in a couple of days. There is no one you need fear now, my friend."

"Thank you, Sherlock," Grayson said with a smile. He and Price hugged Sherlock and John, the two younger men holding tightly to one another for long seconds.

"Speak to my attaché outside. He will arrange a cab for you and it will be charged back here."

"Thank you, Mycroft," Grayson said, shaking the older man's hand warmly.

As his friends turned to leave, Sherlock pulled John into his lap, kissing him fervently.

"I want to bed you," he whispered into his lover's ear. He gave a feral grin at the shiver from the lithe man in his arms. "I want to strip you naked and run my tongue over every inch of you. Every. Last. Inch." He relished the way John writhed as his words heated his lover's blood.

"Sometimes, Sherlock, you play dirty."

"I want you in my mouth, sucking you slowly," Sherlock countered, not allowing his mate to deflect him. He laughed softly, triumphantly as John stood and extended his hand, his beloved husband's dark eyes glittering with love and simmering arousal.

"I thought we were going to play chess, Sherlock."

Mycroft's amused tones only had Sherlock grinning happily whilst his lover's cheeks tinged pink.

"So sorry, Mycroft, we will have that game tomorrow. John feels the need for his bed. Goodnight." He could not resist laughing out loud as John muttered a hasty goodnight to Mycroft, pulling Sherlock along in almost indecent haste to leave the room.

Waiting until his brother and lover left, Mycroft poured two more glasses of port and rang the bell for his butler. He ordered a platter of bread, cold cuts, cheese and fruit and sipped his drink while he waited for the light supper. He watched the manservant set out the ordered dishes and followed him to the door.

"Send in Jeffers and then you and Cook may retire," he said to the older man. Mycroft waited by the door as his young attaché came over.

"You wanted me, sir?"

"My brother has reneged on a game of chess and I am not ready to retire as yet. Let us have a bite of supper and then we can play." Mycroft's smile was wolfish at the slight blush from the younger man. Sherlock was not the only Holmes with a beautiful younger man. However, Mycroft was not inclined to make that revelation public, even to Sherlock, just yet. He wanted to savour the relationship for a little longer. He turned the key in the door as Jeffers walked past him.

A little food, a glass, or two, of port and perhaps chess would not be the game they played.