Title: Declaration
Author: Jessie Blackwood
Pairing: Mycroft/Lestrade
Fandoms: Sherlock
Rating: PG
Note: These are a series of ficlets, short fiction pieces (I hesitate to call them drabbles because I think they're too long, despite the loose definition being 500 words), inspired by one-word prompts from my followers on Tumblr, because I wanted to celebrate passing the 50 follower mark.
Over the last two years since losing my best friend and soulmate, Heather, everyone on Tumblr, particularly the Mystrade crew, have quite honestly saved my life and my sanity. So thanks, guys. These little one-shots are prompted by all of you and are my thank you. I hope you enjoy.
Summary: A bit angsty, this one. From Redgreyandpurple's prompt on Tumblr, Declaration. Don't worry, no sad endings here...

***

I, Detective Chief Inspector Gregory Jonathan Holmes-Lestrade, of 15, Eaton Square, London, England, hereby revoke all former wills and testamentary dispositions made by me and declare this to be my last will…

Mycroft had to pause his reading the document in front of him for a moment. There was no universe in which this was right… I should not be reading my husband's will... Gregory's last will and testament… But it was something he had to do, to check the details, to make sure there was no fault. Taking a deep breath, Mycroft continued.

I appoint my Husband, Alexander Jeremy Mycroft Holmes-Lestrade, of 15, Eaton Square, London, England, to be the Executor and Trustee of this my Will…

Oh, my God, Gregory...why on earth…? Mycroft had not realized that Greg wanted him to be his executor. Obviously, Gregory trusted him, had trusted that his last wishes would be carried out to the letter. How can I read any more…?

Mycroft firmed his mouth, and forced himself to read on. He had been trusted with this and he would not let his husband down. Oh, but is is much harder than I thought it would be. There was the usual list of permissions; permission to pay all debts, funeral expenses, to open and close bank accounts, etc, etc…

The entire residue of my estate I leave to my husband, Alexander Jeremy Mycroft Holmes-Lestrade, including my share of our property, 15, Eaton Square, London, England, if my spouse survives me by thirty (30) days, for his own use absolutely.

Jesus, Gregory, there is no earthly point… Mycroft could not help the tears that brimmed. There was no way he would survive a week, never mind thirty days. Whatever happens, take me with you, Mycroft thought.

He had no idea how long he sat there, the papers on the desk, pain in his heart....

Mycroft was unaware of the door opening, and footsteps approaching. He turned, startled, to see Gregory there behind him. The man’s expression changed, worry replacing his usual smile. “Love? What on earth…? You okay?”

“I was…” Mycroft choked, coughed, and suddenly found himself engulfed in his husband’s warm arms, supporting him, caring for him. “Your will… You asked me to look it over, to check…”

“Christ, Myc. I wouldn’t have asked if I’d known it would upset you this much. What’s the matter…?”

“Oh, Darling,” Mycroft swallowed. “I’m sorry...I just...it’s hard. Reading this would mean you had….” He couldn’t bring himself to say the words.

“Died, yes, that is what a will is for, Mycroft,” Greg said gently.

“I had no idea you wanted me as your executor.”

“Damn, didn't I ask you? Too much for you, love?”

“Possibly...I… I cannot conceive of any world without you in it that I could survive in.”

“Oh, Gorgeous.” Greg hugged him hard, his own eyes brimming. “I am so sorry. Look, I can ask my solicitor to act as executor if you prefer? I had no idea you would be so...well, upset.”

“And why not? You are my life, Gregory. We are married. Without you...I am nothing.” Mycroft took a shaky breath. “But you asked me to do this, and I know where my duty lies. I shall do my utmost to make sure your wishes are carried out.”

“I know you will, and I trust you, but I am not having you so upset about doing this. If it’s too much, I shall ask my solicitor to act instead.”

“It is only too much because I do not want to even think about losing you, Gregory. I would be lost without you…”

“Oh, love. I am here, I am alive and well and…” Greg leaned in and huffed a soft breath in Mycroft’s ear. He felt the man shiver. “Come on, let me show you just how alive I am, hm?”

“I…” Mycroft was fast succumbing to his husband’s attempt at distraction. “Very well…” he murmured breathlessly. “Just… promise me…”

“If I can, I will.”

“Promise me, if things...well...If you…”

“Darling, none of us know what the future holds. That was why I finally allowed you to persuade me to sort out my will, to make sure things, and people, were taken care of. I can promise you this, Mycroft. I will never deliberately leave you, how would that be?”

“As much as one can hope for,” Mycroft said softly. “Thank you, Gregory. I am sorry.”

“Don’t ever apologise for showing me you care, my love. Come on, I’m not dead yet, and far from it.” Greg reached and took his husband’s hand, entwining their fingers. “Let me show you, Gorgeous…” Relentlessly, Greg pulled his husband flush against him, letting him feel the very obvious erection through the fabric of his jeans, running his hands down Mycroft’s back, sliding his palms under clothing and across warm skin. He pressed a kiss to Mycroft’s lips as he pulled them close, and smiled into it. “Love you, Gorgeous. Love that you care. I adore you...”

“I adore you too, Gregory. I love you so very, very much…”

***