Gregory wasn't aware that extravagant amounts equaling to his budget for food for an entire week could be spent in just one lunch in an expensive, Michelin starred sushi restaurant in Mayfair. He still felt a little light-headed at how easily Mycroft Holmes seemed to spend his money, though he reasoned that it was likely due to the fact that Mycroft probably had never spent time without money.

He ran his fingers through his hair, as Mycroft signed the credit card bill with nary a glance at the total sum, but Gregory knew that it was roughly somewhere in the low hundreds.

Being friends with Mycroft certainly came with benefits, but it also gave Greg a little bit of an inferiority complex. Seeing the other man spend his money in such a seemingly careless manner made Greg worry about his own budget and his impending separation.

Yet, Mycroft was nothing but courteous throughout their lunch. The man was obviously well educated and could speak eloquently about a series of topics, but only chose to speak about what Gregory knew best, mundane things like sports and current affairs, as well as about crime. Greg didn't find it condescending like he normally would have, but thought it was rather polite, in a Holmesian way. It was more than easy for Mycroft to start talking about philosophy, or psychology, or whatever obscure little interests that he liked, rather like Sherlock and deduction, but the other refrained from it to talk to Greg at his level. And he did talk at Greg's level. His sentence structures, the detective noted, had been changed slightly, and Mycroft wasn't exploiting his extensive vocabulary like he normally would have. The topic of what Sherlock was up to was carefully skirted around; they both knew that Sherlock's doings and un-doings were a potential trigger point for them. They came to a silent agreement to just let it be, and agree to disagree.

Both men were surprised at how well they got along, despite the initial difficulties. They had plenty of similarities, even though they came from very different backgrounds. When they discussed education, Mycroft was quick to express his disdain for the behavior of his schoolmates in Eton. Gregory was more than a little perplexed, but soon found out that Mycroft was as much an outsider to the upper classes as Gregory was.

He was born and bred in the North, and had been sent to London for his education, a complete stranger to the upper echelons of London society. Mycroft privately denounced them as spoilt, extravagant and pampered, before noting wryly, "I have become what I most despise, unfortunately." Greg had laughed at that comment, and listened as Mycroft also noted his disappointment that Sherlock had to face the same troubles as he. Sherlock was not only a genius, but also the shy, introverted kind that had become an easy target for bullying, causing him to retaliate in an antagonistic manner, thus forming his abrasive veneer of current times.

Greg nodded in sympathy and told him of growing up in a council estate, and the trouble a child could easily get into without parents to keep an adequate eye on them. Mycroft envied his freedom; Greg argued that a country estate was a far freer and safer place to roam than the streets of a crowded city. The desolation of a country estate was also its saving grace, providing hours of fascination for two young boys with huge imaginations and even larger intellects to exhaust themselves in a relatively safe manner. If brought up in the city, Greg mused, Sherlock might have been even more rebellious than he was now, simply because of the possible bad influences that might have gotten to him at a much earlier age. Mycroft shuddered at the thought.

Then they moved on to their teen years, and music. Gregory pronounced his teenage self an "aimless idiot, too obsessed with punk and anarchy to be bothered to study", and Mycroft confessed listening to punk music, until he faced his father's vehement disapproval. Mycroft secreted his vinyls away, and never mentioned any other form of music other than classical ever again. They liked much of the same bands, and Greg's lips curled into a slow smile before he suggested Mycroft should unearth his vinyls, and they could have a little evening of booze and punk.

Mycroft agreed, to both their surprise, and soon found a date for both of them to meet up at Greg's temporary flat, where he kept an old gramophone.

Sherlock proceeded to ignore the corpse in favor of staring at Greg, which prompted Sally to make plenty of sarcastic remarks about how he was going to murder them all.

Sherlock continued to stare at Greg in his usual unnerving manner throughout the time that Greg was briefing him about the case, before saying, "Your lunch date went well."

Instantly, all the eyes of the team were turned on him, and Greg rolled his eyes, "Yes, it did, Sherlock."

"Well, good. I don't think the Middle East can handle extra stress from a failed lunch date." Sherlock nodded, and went to direct his full attention to the corpse.

Sally laughed and said, "What's the Middle East got to do with Greg?"

"Greg is dating my brother." Sherlock said, with a malicious gleam in his eyes, watching and savoring Sally's expression.

"I'm not dating your brother!" Greg growled, shaking Sherlock, "I told you, it was lunch!"

"To a Michelin star restaurant at lunch hour." Sherlock said, raising an eyebrow at Greg.

Sally stared at Greg with her eyes wide, "Not that I'm on the Freak's side or anything, but it really does sound like a date. And it's a date by people who want to pretend it's not a date."

Sherlock folded his arms and smirked triumphantly at Greg. The older man groaned and said, "Look, children, I can't be bothered why you two assume it's a date, but as far as I'm concerned, it's not. Alright? Mycroft's used to eating haute cuisine; I can't possibly ask him to the nearest pub and call for a pint. Now, can we actually pay attention to the corpse here or are you lot going to continue to try to dissect my social life?"

Sally had the grace to look ashamed, but Sherlock merely gave the body a dismissive glance and said, "Boring."

Greg rolled his eyes, "Solved it then?"

"It's her lover." Sherlock said. Greg nodded, and told Sally to do the relevant work while he tied up loose ends with Sherlock.

The moment Sally left, Sherlock turned back to Greg, "I told you, Greg. Nothing is ever just something with Mycroft. What do you plan to do?"

"What? Plan?" Greg stuck his hands in his coat and looked Sherlock in the eye, "What for?"

"Well, you had better. Mycroft always plans at least five steps ahead, and when he's in good form, it's always at least ten."

Greg frowned, "Look, there's no need to plan things like friendships. It just happens, and you just follow the course of nature."

"Is that what you told yourself when you got married?" Sherlock asked.

Greg's eyes narrowed, and he leveled a glare at Sherlock. The younger man blinked at him, confused, not getting why it was so insulting. Greg counted to ten in his head, then said, his voice rougher than normal in his irritation, "Look, Sherlock. That's not the kind of thing you say to people, a'right? It's just not done."

"Oh." A little crease appeared between his brows, "It's not… acceptable?"

"Not in the least. If you'd been anyone else, I'd have punched you. Lucky for you, I know you well enough." Greg said gruffly, turning away to tell Anderson to get a move on and stop flirting with Sally.

Sherlock stood there, musing it over, "I didn't mean it as an insult. I was genuinely curious to see if that was true; that most people don't plan out their relationships."

"Most people don't." Greg said, and nodded to Anderson and Sally, "Sometimes things just happen."

"I don't quite understand." Sherlock's lower lip jutted out in a way that told Greg he was nibbling on the inside of it.

"It's just, emotions are difficult to chart and plan for. Most of the time we just… wing it. See where it goes." Greg explained as he walked out of the scene, "Sometimes it turns out well, happily ever after, hurrah. Other times…" He looked at the corpse, "Other times, it doesn't."

"Human interactions are a hassle. I shall find it a chore to engage in one." Sherlock pronounced his conclusion into the brisk, cool air, before he strolled off.

Mycroft stared at the paper in his hand, not seeing the words. His mind was fixated with every tick of the clock, every soft sound counting down to one second less till he saw Gregory again.

Not for the first time, Mycroft mused about their lunch meeting at the restaurant, and thought of how Greg found him amusing, and thought he was clever.

Very rarely did anyone think he was amusing. He was usually seen as being too serious, too pedantic. Laughter stopped when he entered the room, and conversations died an instant death. It was strange and lonely, being isolated from even his own colleagues by virtue of his intellect.

And since the only person who saw his cleverness was often him, he was underwhelmed by his own intelligence, which was exceedingly critical of itself, picking apart his own solutions from the previous day, sometimes even the previous hour.

He contemplated the possible paths and trajectories this budding relationship would take them. He would test the waters, and if Gregory was amenable, they could progress further as friends, then … perhaps, more.

Mycroft didn't let himself dwell too long on "more". Experience taught him that the higher his hopes were, the more disappointed he ended up, and the longer it took to recover. Contrary to Sherlock's allegations that Mycroft was the epitome of unlovable, Mycroft had been in several relationships, but none of them survived the trials that came with Mycroft's job. If it wasn't the constant travel, the danger or the security sweeps that Mycroft bore with grace every alternate day in his flat, it was certainly the fact that all his lovers had 24/7 surveillance… which made it very difficult to cheat. Two had tried, and promptly lost their citizenship, among other various troubles.

But they would have many issues to work through. Despite Gregory's apparently casual manner during the lunch, he could see that Greg was uncomfortable with the obvious extravagance of his spending. It was little surprise, considering that Mycroft was used to a pampered lifestyle since birth, while Gregory still lived by the constraints of a budget. Mycroft had little doubt that with time, Gregory would get used to Mycroft's lifestyle.

Their previous encounters also showed Mycroft that he needed to improve his communication with Gregory, and he had to learn not to mince his words and be too verbose with the other man. Gregory was direct, and efficient. Mycroft needed to communicate in his way, or face being misconstrued all the time. Mycroft recalled Gregory's stern expression as he was told off by the other man during Sherlock's flat hunt, and sighed, promising himself not to make such a mistake again. Gregory had a certain attractiveness about him when he was upset, but Mycroft didn't want his anger directed at him at all.

They had plenty in common, as evidenced by their lunch date which ran two hours over their actual allotted hour, but were also opposites in a fair amount of things.

Mycroft was expedient, and he felt the ends more often than not justified the means. He was not above doing something that straddled the grey area between legal and not to get things done. Greg believed in the law above all else, he wanted to believe that all criminals got punished, and strove to make sure it got done. Mycroft knew he needed to be delicate about this, and to do his best to make sure that Gregory didn't see his above-the-law approach to solving problems.

Mycroft was indulgent towards Sherlock, his younger and only brother, and his closest kin. Greg believed that a firm hand would get Sherlock to behave more. He had a point. Under Gregory's watchful eye, Sherlock seemed less likely to act out, or get himself high on some cocktail of drugs just to "experiment". Gregory was the elder sibling that Sherlock needed, and Mycroft could never be. Mycroft had been too exhausted by his work to discipline and keep his younger brother in line.

But if opposites attracted, Mycroft was pretty sure they were headed for a spectacular collision course. It might be dangerous, but it would never be boring, and that was reason enough to proceed.

Like his brother, Mycroft Holmes hated to be bored.