Danny looked at himself in the mirror. His skin was still moist from his shower and he rubbed his hand along the glass to rub away the fog. The squeaking noise his fingers made while they banished the film made him smile, reminding him of a time when he must have been happy—maybe as a child? A tap at the door made him turn.
He looked at Mycroft, making no move to hide his nakedness. With one step, he was across the room. “Mycroft, take me to bed.”
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