It was as though Mycroft closed himself off to the rest of the world—in a personal sense, and that made Greg’s heart ache. Granted, he really didn’t know much, or anything, about the man, but he hadn’t made DI based on his good looks. He had an intuition of sorts about people. He was able to see, really see, who they were, through their eyes. Mycroft’s eyes were closed off, but every so often he saw the cracks there.
It was obvious Mycroft wanted, perhaps even needed someone but Greg figured hell would freeze over before Mycroft actually admitted that. So he would make himself available, making sure Mycroft knew that someone was there to call on, someone who actually wanted him. Whether Mycroft accepted that or not was another story.
He let himself into his flat. “Catherine?” he called out hesitantly as he toed off his shoes and hung up his jacket.
“Late again, Greg?” she asked from the kitchen.
“I’m sorry. We closed the case today and the paperwork had to be filled out and filed.” He stood off to the side.
“Of course it did.” She sighed. “When are you going to see how much that job is ruining you?”
Greg looked down. “I love my job.” This was always one of the main discussions they had. Catherine didn’t understand how much he loved his job. He loved being able to help people. Even though he complained about it, it was really the only thing he wanted to do.
“Yes, Greg. I know. I love my job too, but you don’t see me coming home late every night.”
“Catherine, you’re an accountant. Your hours are pretty steady. I’m a DI for the Yard. My hours are more fluid. You know that.” He sighed, feeling the slight anger. “I don’t know what you expect me to do.”
“Obviously not, as you never listen to me.” She set down the book she had been reading. “It would be nice if you were around more. There’s quite a lot that needs to be done.” She stood up. “I’m going out.”
“So you want me to stop going to work so I can what, be your errand boy here?” He resisted the urge to yell.
Catherine narrowed her eyes. “No. It would be nice if you realized that your job isn’t the most important thing in your life.” She put on her coat and walked out on him, something she did quite frequently.
Greg grabbed a beer from his fridge and sat at the table. This was how things were between them now. She demanded that he stop working so much to be home, but when he did come home, she left.
He tried, truly he did, to finish things up around the end of his shift because he knew how much she wanted to spend time with him. He had been successful the whole week prior to this one. Then the case happened and, despite his wife’s protests, he couldn’t just leave his team. Especially not after seeing the grieving husband of the victim.
Would she mourn me if I died? Greg knew the thought was morbid, but it was something he had been thinking about a lot lately. He wasn’t really sure anymore.
They had been happy, once, a long time ago. He had met her right after she finished university and they just got on really well. A few years later, they were married. Everything remained good for a while, until she started going out with her friends a few times a week.
He knew that he had no right to demand her time, especially since there was no guarantee that he would be home. But after a few months, she started getting upset over everything. The fact that he liked his job, that his job took up a lot of his time, that he didn’t do everything on her list as soon as she wrote it down.
Greg knew he was not a perfect husband, but he didn’t think he was as horrible as she made it seem. He always got through everything on her list, it just wasn’t as fast as she would like. Every time he would have off of work he would make sure to do everything on her list. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a lie in or a lazy day during an off day.
Re: Criminal Conversation 1d/?
It was obvious Mycroft wanted, perhaps even needed someone but Greg figured hell would freeze over before Mycroft actually admitted that. So he would make himself available, making sure Mycroft knew that someone was there to call on, someone who actually wanted him. Whether Mycroft accepted that or not was another story.
He let himself into his flat. “Catherine?” he called out hesitantly as he toed off his shoes and hung up his jacket.
“Late again, Greg?” she asked from the kitchen.
“I’m sorry. We closed the case today and the paperwork had to be filled out and filed.” He stood off to the side.
“Of course it did.” She sighed. “When are you going to see how much that job is ruining you?”
Greg looked down. “I love my job.” This was always one of the main discussions they had. Catherine didn’t understand how much he loved his job. He loved being able to help people.
Even though he complained about it, it was really the only thing he wanted to do.
“Yes, Greg. I know. I love my job too, but you don’t see me coming home late every night.”
“Catherine, you’re an accountant. Your hours are pretty steady. I’m a DI for the Yard. My hours are more fluid. You know that.” He sighed, feeling the slight anger. “I don’t know what you expect me to do.”
“Obviously not, as you never listen to me.” She set down the book she had been reading. “It would be nice if you were around more. There’s quite a lot that needs to be done.” She stood up. “I’m going out.”
“So you want me to stop going to work so I can what, be your errand boy here?” He resisted the urge to yell.
Catherine narrowed her eyes. “No. It would be nice if you realized that your job isn’t the most important thing in your life.” She put on her coat and walked out on him, something she did quite frequently.
Greg grabbed a beer from his fridge and sat at the table. This was how things were between them now. She demanded that he stop working so much to be home, but when he did come home, she left.
He tried, truly he did, to finish things up around the end of his shift because he knew how much she wanted to spend time with him. He had been successful the whole week prior to this one. Then the case happened and, despite his wife’s protests, he couldn’t just leave his team. Especially not after seeing the grieving husband of the victim.
Would she mourn me if I died? Greg knew the thought was morbid, but it was something he had been thinking about a lot lately. He wasn’t really sure anymore.
They had been happy, once, a long time ago. He had met her right after she finished university and they just got on really well. A few years later, they were married. Everything remained good for a while, until she started going out with her friends a few times a week.
He knew that he had no right to demand her time, especially since there was no guarantee that he would be home. But after a few months, she started getting upset over everything. The fact that he liked his job, that his job took up a lot of his time, that he didn’t do everything on her list as soon as she wrote it down.
Greg knew he was not a perfect husband, but he didn’t think he was as horrible as she made it seem. He always got through everything on her list, it just wasn’t as fast as she would like. Every time he would have off of work he would make sure to do everything on her list. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a lie in or a lazy day during an off day.