I am not lonely [Mystrade]

CHAPTER 46 : Shoes

Greg pushed the front door with his foot and entered the house before putting his excited son on the floor and forsaking a pile of files on the gueridon in the corridor. He took his jacket off and threw his shoes under the commode where he used to store them, not caring at all of the mess he was making. He had had a busy day and Anderson and Donovan had just made it even worse by refusing to talk one to another for a reason that they wouldn't explain to their boss but that he would have guessed being Sally refusing to have dinner with her colleague once more. He had picked up Alden at Sherlock's flat, finding him running all around the place with his uncle under the eyes of a slightly depressed John who had explained him that they had been doing so for the last hour and that he couldn't do anything to stop Sherlock of exciting the little boy like this. The traffic had been horrible and added to the screams of the toddler in his booster, they had finished ruining the detective's patience.
It was already seven so, despite his will to just sank into a couch with a glass of wine and turn on the television on a stupid game, the inspector grabbed his son and proceed to the bathroom, trying to calm the shouting little boy down before undressing him and sitting him in the bathtub. The contact of the hot water seemed to pacify him a little and the DI managed to wash him without finishing entirely wet himself. Unable to find the younger Holmes's pyjamas and not in the mood for a treasure hunt after it, the man just took a clean one in the little boy's wardrobe and helped his son putting the blue T-shirt and trousers on.
Coming back downstairs, Greg informed Michael that Alden was ready for dinner and sat the little boy in his high chair, taking a chair near him while the cook was bringing him a plate of fish and vegetables. The toddler who had been calm since the bath wasn't pleased with the menu and refused to open his mouth, forcing his father to find some technics to make him accept the food, taking twice the time he usually needed to have dinner.
When the detective put him to bed and closed the door, it was already half past eight and his shirt was covered in food smudges. Grumbling to himself he made his way to the dressing room and get rid of his work outfit, picking an Arsenal jersey and an old tracksuit, choosing the comfort over the fashion. He finally ran aground the living room's couch and grabbed the TV remote, stopping on an old BBC show that he had already seen many times but that he was still finding funny and tried to relax.
He was half through the first episode when he heard the sound of his boyfriend's car outside. The official entered the house, glancing a disapproving look to the abandoned shoes on the floor and the pile of reports negligently laying on the gueridon. He hated when things weren't in order, not that he was a maniac, but he thought that mess was only acceptable when you was using something. For example he could tolerate his office in mess when he was working, displaying his files all over his desk and sometime even on the floor when he had too much, but he always took time to order everything up when he left the room. Sighing, he hanged his jacket and took of his shoes, placing them in the commode before picking up his partner's and stowing them at their usual spot.

Hearing the sound of the television, he headed toward the living room, finding the detective limped into the couch, looking distractedly at the television. When he noticed the auburn presence, Greg turned his head to face him. "G'evening." he said in a tired voice, not moving from the sofa.
"Gregory, why have you let your shoes lingering on the floor like this ? You know I hate that." asked the elder Holmes, rebuke clear in his voice.
"I had Alden in my arms and a stack of files. It's not tragic is it ? And by the way hello ..." snorted the DI, not in the mood to be told off for his shoes.
"Yes, hello. You could have come back later to store them properly if you couldn't do it on the moment." continued the official, irritated by his boyfriend's reaction, or lack of it actually.
"Come on Myc', it's shoes ! Can't you relax a little !" exclaimed the inspector, really not understanding why the other man was making it such a big deal.
"Relax? It's always relax with you ... Sorry but I had a big day and I wish to find my house in order when I come back !" retorted the auburn.
"You had a big day ? Oh sorry, that's right I have done absolutely nothing today !" outbursted Greg, standing up.
"From what I'm seeing, you still got time to watch stupidity on TV." remarked Mycroft, gesturing toward the television. "Is that really too much to ask you to take 30 seconds to tidy after you ?"
"I've watched 10 minutes !" clamoured the detective. "If you weren't that psychorigide you would be sat on the couch with me and chilling after your day !"
"I am not psychorigide !" denied the official, furious to be called like that by his own husband. "And if you weren't that lazy you would have made an effort to tidy."
"Made an effort ?" chocked the yarder. "Made an effort ? I've picked up Alden from your brother. I've bathed him. I've fed him. I've put him to bed in case you didn't actually knew that already !"
"And thank you very much but that doesn't repress you from tidying up as far as I know." persisted the auburn.
"Oh piss off ! What's the real point behind all that ? It's not just a problem of shoes is it or are you that fussy ?" shouted the policeman, now standing meter away from his partner.
"It's always the same with you Gregory. Nothing is important and if I say anything then I'm being a shithead !" erupted the elder Holmes, furious.
"Oh yes, poor you !" retorted the detective, still shouting at the top of his lungs. "You are really to be pitied ! Sorry if I do not obey you like all your staff but in case you haven't noticed, I'm not your employee, I have no order to take of you !"

"That's not what I'm asking you ! Why can't I say anything to you without you complaining like if you were any kind of martyr ?" yelled the auburn, moving even closer to his boyfriend.

"Me ? Behaving like a martyr ? If your weren't the biggest drama queen out there it could probably be funny !" retorted the yarder, shaking his head, incredulous.

"Don't call me like that !" warned the official, shaking of anger.

"Or what ? What can you do to stop me from saying you the truth ?" the DI provoked him.
Without letting time to the other man to replied, he exited the room, grabbed a pair of sneakers and his car keys and stepped out of the house. Suddently understanding that he had overreacted because he was angry from his work and that he had avenged himself on his husband for no reason, Mycroft followed his partner outside.
"Greg ... Don't do that please..." he begged while the policeman was climbing in his car. "I've been a prick but please, stay ..."
"No, you've been yourself." replied the inspector, slamming the door and starting the engine.
"Gregory..." tried the official but the DI didn't cared and exited the alley, letting the auburn alone on the pavement. Feeling miserable and angry at himself, the elder Holmes re-entered his house and collapsed on the corridor's floor, crying. It wasn't the first time the two men argued but the yarder had never been angry enough to leave the house like that night and the official was afraid he wouldn't come back. He couldn't help hearing him saying over and over that he had been himself when shouting at him and he thought that he was maybe right. Maybe he was just unable to tolerate anyone who could stand up for themselves and not just obey him. He would had like to be able to control himself sometime and just being able to relax like Greg was able to do, to take a bit of distance on himself but every time something was going well, he couldn't help but screwing itup.
Hearing his son crying upstairs he raised up, sad as a stone and joined the little boy, picking him from his bed and bringing him close to his chest, rocking him gently. "It looks like it's gonna be just the two of us now..." he muttered to the toddler, a little tear still rolling down on his cheek.

After driving haphazardly during nearly an hour, the detective stopped on the side of the road and took his head between his hands, feeling both angry and stupid. He was still considering that his husband's reaction was out of order but in the same time he knew that the official didn't meant to be that displeasant with him and that he should have controlled himself. It was ten in the evening and he had no idea where to go, not willing to go back to the elder Holmes house before being fully alleviated and not sure of how he would be received by Mycroft after insulting his pride as he had done. Noticing that he was near Hackney, he grabbed his phone and called Molly.
"Molly, it's Greg. I hope I don't disturb you." he said in an apologizing voice when she took the call.
"Hmm, no, no it's ok." she replied urgently, surprised by this late call. "What's going up ?"
"I've got a little ... issue. I was wondering if I could use your couch tonight?" he wondered shyly.
"Oh, yes. Of course Greg. Where are you? Do you want me to call you a cab ?" she asked, considerate.
"It's ok, I've got my car. I'm on Warf Road. I'll be there in a dozen of minutes, something like that." replied the detective. "You are sure I won't be disturbing ?"
"Don't worry Greg, it's ok." reassured him the young woman. "The door code is 1804."
"Thank you, Molly." the policeman concluded before pocketing his phone and starting the engine again.
He was glad Molly had accepted to lodge him for the night as the only other place he could have been at this time in the day was probably 221B and he wasn't sure he would have liked a lot being deduced by Sherlock after what just happened. He had been to the forensic's flat only once for a birthday party a few years ago and it took him a little longer than it should have to find the building but he finally made it and entered the place, climbing the stairs to the fifth floor and ringing at the door where a little cat-shaped sign announced the name of Mrs Hooper.