EDIT: I've found some mistakes and tweaked a few sentences. If you see any mistakes, feel free to let me know in a review and I will do my best to fix them ASAP.

Friday: Part Two

Adeline rubbed her rear end with a sour expression on her face.

"Horse riding looks easier on the telly," she grumbled.

"Oh stop complaining!" Alexandra giggled. "That was so much fun!"

Greg smiled from where he stood brushing the horse he rode, a mare named Queen Anne. She was pure black, very sleek, and getting on in years. She was over twenty years by now. Mycroft had once explained that she belonged to Sherlock, although he very rarely saw her. She had been born to their father's horse when Sherlock was seven, and he apparently fell in love with the foal. He named her Queen Anne in honor of Blackbeard's infamous ship, Queen Anne's Revenge. Apparently the now-insufferable consulting detective had formerly wanted to be a pirate. This mental image, one of a little Sherlock running around with a plastic sword and trying to beat up his older brother with the weapon, amused Greg to no end, and even now it caused him to giggle.

"It hurt! How do people enjoy that?" Adeline wouldn't let it go.

Mycroft came over, after having finished grooming his horse (stereotypically a white stallion) whose name was Churchill. He looked at Adeline.

"This isn't your sport," he looked mildly disappointed. "It's a shame. It's a rather useful tool."

"Come talk to me when horse riding actually saves a life," she rolled her eyes.

"Hey, Addie! Attitude," Greg warned.

"It's alright, Gregory. Compared to Sherlock, she's highly respectful," Mycroft grinned. "And, Adeline, you would be surprised."

"My, anyone is respectful compared to Sherlock," Greg still gave a small smile.

Adeline's eyes had widened with Mycroft's statement, and she dropped the subject.

"Well, I don't care what Addie says. That was amazing. Thank you, Mycroft," Alexandra rushed over, hugging her dad's partner.

Since becoming involved with Greg, Mycroft had gotten more used to physical contact on a regular basis. However, this contact had only stretched to Greg. Around other people, he did nothing else other than a brisk handshake. He was never a man to wallow in sentiment. He didn't suffer in his childhood for a lack of hugs, as many people thought; he would argue he suffered from too many. His father had never been around, and so his mother tried to shower both her boys in affection. Unfortunately, neither were very tactile people when it came to expressing fondness, but she still tried every day. Mummy Holmes had died years ago, though. Mycroft had never had a girlfriend, or even a female lover, and certainly not a daughter, and suddenly a fourteen year old girl he barely knew was hugging him around the waist, and it took all of his government training to not immediately jump back. He focused a bit on the friendly contact, one done out of appreciation and warmth, and realized the familial feelings weren't bad, despite the initial shock. He wrapped his arms around her gently, if a bit awkwardly, and gave her a little squeeze before she pulled away with a crooked grin.

"Anytime you want to ride, you may. Victoria seemed to take quite a shine to you," he told her honestly.

"Yay," she giggled. Her hair was windblown, her cheeks tinted pink from all the laughing she had done. Her eyes were bright.

Mycroft looked up, meeting Greg's eyes from across the stable. They were shinning with warmth in a way Mycroft hadn't seen before.

"I love you," he mouthed.

Mycroft winked.

"Adeline, I would be willing to bet you will like tomorrow's plans better. Buckingham Palace really is lovely," he said.

The blonde brightened at the mention of the palace.

"Well, anything is better than that!"

"Alright then, Miss Pessimist, let's go get you girls fed," Greg came over, roughing up her hair with a few quick swipes of his hand. She let out an undignified squeal while Alexandra and Mycroft laughed; she tried to smooth it back down, but the damage was already done.

"DAD! Not cool!"

"I'm your dad! I'm not supposed to be cool," he rolled his eyes. "Now come on in."

The girls walked in front of the men. Mycroft and Greg were holding hands as they headed back in.

"I'm very proud of you," Greg nudged Mycroft with his shoulder. "You surprised me back there."

"I have dealt with children before," Mycroft sighed.

"When?" Greg asked, genuinely curious.

"The age difference between Sherlock and me is considerable, approximately eleven years. Our father was absent from our lives on a ready basis. I was the man of the house when he was gone, and, believe it or not, Sherlock and I were once much closer. I was the closest thing he had to a father figure ninety percent of the time," he explained, the pain and anger from years of doing for his brother and himself what their father should have done repressed; he didn't the dam he had created in his mind to break, even as he talked about it. (Sentiment: chemical defect. Useless. Repress. Ignore. Will dissipate soon.)

"Jesus, Mycroft," Greg whistled under his breath. "I had suspicions, but I was never sure…"

"So you see, Gregory, I have been paternal for many years. And although I failed in many areas with Sherlock when he got older, I was a satisfactory stand-in when he was at their ages. Although they are girls and not boys, the basics are the same. And after parenting Sherlock Holmes, anyone else seems like a walk in the park," he teased.

Greg didn't smile genuinely.

"What?"

"You looked wistful. You miss him, the Sherlock you were close to, don't you?"

"More than you could possibly imagine," he wanted to say, but he didn't.

"Leave the past in the past, Gregory, where it belongs. You are my Now. And right now, we have hungry children. Evangeline should have brought food by now," Mycroft said tersely.

Greg sighed. He was used to Mycroft giving him the cold shoulder when it came to emotions. Facts, like he had raised his brother, were just that: facts. Holmeses were good at facts. The emotional parts of it were where things got messy. Greg and John would often talk, when they went to the pub together, about how their boys would become distant in an instant. It was rather like a switch with them. Mycroft once told him that Jim Moriarty called him "The Ice Man," and unfortunately, Greg could see why, in these moments.

"The Doctor should have been with Rose!" Alexandra's voice cut through their bubble of tension.

"The Doctor just gets people hurt! He should just take a vow of celibacy and get it over with!" Adeline's voice got louder as well. "Honestly, Alex, how many women must he hurt before he realizes he's not going to be happy? He should have just gotten with The Master."

"Screw The bloody Master! He-!"

"Alexandra! Adeline! Quit your bickering! It's a bloody show! And Alex, you better watch your language," Greg chastised.

"Sorry, dad!" They called out in unison.

"It's not just a bloody show," Alex huffed a few seconds later.

"I heard that…" Greg tried not to chuckle.

"Mycroft, by the way, who is Evangeline?"

"Oh, she probably told you her false name. It's Anthea."

"Oh…"

XXX

Everyone was lounging in the family room, stretched out on various pieces of leather furniture. They had all been filled with top grade Italian food and had settled in the watch a film before bed. Alex and Addie had chosen the film, The Princess Bride. Mycroft hadn't even known he owned it.

The credits rolled, and Mycroft was surprised he had enjoyed the film as much as he had. He swore Greg rubbed off on him in the oddest of ways. He looked over, though, and noticed the girls were quite tired.

"Come on, then. Time for bed," he stood. "Gregory, shall we show the girls to their rooms?"

Greg looked confused but stood dutifully anyway.

They all walked up the grand staircase, the girls not too tired to marvel at the marble and various different family portraits.

"I had rooms fixed for you while you were out. Though formerly guest rooms, they are now yours. If you would like to compile a list of things you would like, for both practical and décor purposes, I will have them delivered and installed in the rooms for the next time you're with your father. Your bags were also taken up here," Mycroft explained. Greg hadn't known about this; he hadn't heard the call Mycroft made while everyone was getting changed into proper riding attire.

"Wow, um, thank you," Alexandra said.

"You're most welcome," Mycroft said as he opened the door to her room. It was large, had a vaulted ceiling, and French doors to a balcony. He flicked on the light, revealing the baby blue walls and bamboo flooring. The curtains were a complimentary off-white, as were the blankets and pillows on the bed. There was a television mounted on the wall and a desk with a laptop in the corner.

"Oh my god! This is amazing!" Alexandra squealed, hugging both her dad and Mycroft in her excitement.

"I'm glad you enjoy it," Mycroft nodded.

"Yeah, well, um, sleep well, Alex. Love you," Greg kissed her head before she ran and jumped on the bed, a giant smile on her face.

They made their way to the door opposite hers.

"This is yours," Mycroft opened the door. The room was much the same in shape. The differences were that the walls were lavender, and the floors oak, and the bed a rich violet. The television, desk, and laptop, however, were identical.

"What's the door to?" Adeline pointed the wall where the television was mounted.

"Your private bathroom; I figured you would enjoy the privacy more, whereas Alexandra would prefer the view."

"You supposed correctly," she smiled up at him, effectively communicating her thanks. Mycroft recognized how similar they were, and thus he understood her silent language.

"I normally do," he shrugged, a very informal gesture for the very formal man. She just chuckled.

"Thanks, dad," she hugged Greg briefly. "Good night!"

"We're at the end of the hall if you need us, love," Greg said.

"Okay," she waved them off.

After shutting the door, Greg groaned.

"God, she's more of a teenager than my teenager."

"I heard that!" her muffled voice came through the door.

"Good!" he yelled back.

"Come on, darling; let's go to bed," Mycroft grinned mischievously. Greg gulped as he trailed after his partner, holding onto his hand.

"The girls are here," Greg gasped around the mouth that had attached to him the moment they had made it to the sanctuary of their room.

"I can be very quiet when need be. It's you who needs to be concerned," Mycroft pushed him back against their closed door, lips finding Greg's neck instinctively.

"Oh, hell yeah I do. I'm dealing with the devil himself," he gasped.

"Hmm, good point," Mycroft murmured. "Gregory, darling, would you say the devil is the king of Hell?"

"Uhhmmm yeah, uhm. Why?" Greg was very distracted. Mycroft backed away and he left out a little whimper. He met his lover's eyes, but they were cast in shadow. A smirk played on his lips. He let out a sinister chuckle.

"Because, it's time to get on your knees and service your king."

A/N Thank you to everyone who has favorited, followed, and reviewed. It means the world to me! Please review, it only takes a second, and the feedback motivates me to write more! Lots of love.