Chapter Text
Mycroft raised the fine bone china tea cup to his lips, his gaze locked with his brother who was mirroring his actions. The muffled sounds of Mrs Hudson watching Jeremy Kyle downstairs were seeping through the walls of 221B Baker Street.
Finally Sherlock spoke, his brow furrowed as he kept trying to understand his brother’s actions. “This is not like you. You don’t ‘do’ relationships. Why now? Why her?” The questions were muttered to himself under his breath.
“As with most things related to the heart Sherlock, the answer is quite simple— it just happened,” answered Mycroft as nonchalantly as possible.
“Apparently the bollocking she gave the Cabinet this morning for teasing you about that monstrosity on your neck was quite something.”
“It was rather.” Remembering Molly’s tirade a small but proud smile crept across Mycroft’s face.
“Your intentions?”
Mycroft simply shrugged his shoulders. “I couldn’t possibly say.”
Sherlock unconsciously steepled his hands at his chin while his gaze hardened on his brother. Ignoring Sherlock’s invasive glare Mycroft tipped the tea cup up one last time and let the last swallow of milky liquid slide down his throat bringing teatime to a close. Questions were still circling in Sherlock’s eyes when Mycroft decided enough was enough.
“As much as I would love to fritter the afternoon away answering your banal questions about my personal life Sherlock some of us do have work to do.” After putting his tea cup and saucer in the sink Mycroft slipped on his coat. “See you next week brother mine,” he called from well down the stairs.
Once alone Sherlock let an evil smirk settle on his face. He was done anyway. He had deduced all he needed to know.
//
It was a dull Sunday afternoon and Molly was surrounded by mugs of half-drunk tea. Taking a deep breath she hit ‘send’ and her paper was submitted. Moments later a wave of exhaustion and relief washed over her.
Standing up yawning and starching, her neck cracked as she rolled it around. She had been working non-stop for nearly a week. As she padded into her bathroom she realized that she had not heard from either Mycroft or Sherlock for days. She sent Mycroft a text with one word, “Done!” Tomorrow I’ll ring and properly thank him she decided as she slipped into the hot bath water.
Only when the water had grown cold and her skinned pruned did Molly get out of the bath. While putting on her comfiest pyjamas her stomach gave an almighty growl— she couldn’t remember the last time she had eaten.
Sleepily passing through her living room on the way to the kitchen she completely missed the man sitting in her chair. When he spoke it scared her to death.
“Is this sham finally over?”
“Fuck sake Sherlock,” panted Molly trying to recover from the surge of adrenaline. “You scared me!”
“No idea why. You and Mycroft conspired to keep me away from you while you did your paper. It’s done. I’m back,” Sherlock gave her a smug smile.
“You— knew?”
“Of course. Mycroft doesn’t do—“ Sherlock looked Molly up and down while gesturing in the air with his hands, “—people.”
A sharp knock on the door stopped the argument before it could start. The pair looked at each other questioningly before Molly tentatively moved towards the door and opened it.
“Hello my dear I thought we should celebrate.” Mycroft was standing on her doorstep holding a large box filled with take-away containers, a bunch of flowers and a bottle of champagne. “Sorry I’m late, slight delay at the Chinese.”
Moving past Molly into the living room he set the box down on the dining table.
“Hello Sherlock,” said Mycroft casually. “Joining us for dinner? For you,” he added handing Molly the flowers. “Many congratulations on the successful completion of your project.”
“I’ll just get a vase for these.” Molly dipped her head shyly and scurried into the kitchen.
Ignoring Sherlock’s stunned expression Mycroft began unpacking the food. “Plates or containers?” he called towards the kitchen.
“Containers. I’m not in the mood for washing up tonight,” answered Molly.
Mycroft let a small snort of amusement escape as he took his jacket off and draped it over the back of a nearby chair. Molly appeared with the flowers and gave Mycroft a big smile as she set the vase in the middle of the table.
“Thank you. They are lovely. I’m just going to slip some clothes on while you open the champers.” Mycroft’s gaze followed her as she left the room.
“Two glasses or three?” Mycroft asked as he opened up the sideboard near the dining table.
Sherlock remained silent.
Bringing two glasses back to the table Mycroft turned to face Sherlock briefly letting his mask fall, answering all of the questions hanging in the air.
“Oh.” Sherlock’s voice was filled with pity. “I’ll leave you in peace.”
Putting on a cheery voice Sherlock called, “I’ve got to go Molly. I’ll stop by the lab tomorrow to discuss my requirements.” A faint “Okay” was heard before he slipped out the door without looking back.
Mycroft had just finished pouring the bubbly when Molly appeared in baggy trousers, t-shirt and jumper.
“Perfect timing.”
Molly took the glass from Mycroft, chinked it with his and the pair drank.
“With your paper off I guess our charade is over.” Mycroft stated quietly as he took another sip of the champagne. “Mission successfully competed I’d say.”
Looking between the flowers and Mycroft Molly simply nodded, “Let’s eat. I’m starving.”
Throughout dinner Mycroft was subdued.
“What’s wrong? You’ve been too quiet all evening,” asked Molly tossing the empty plastic containers into the box.
“Oh, nothing,” replied Mycroft absently. Taking a deep breath he refilled their glasses with the last of the bottle. He allowed the alcohol to loosen his tongue. “I didn’t anticipate the end of our hoax would hit me so hard. Silly really.”
Forcing a smile Mycroft tried to keep all the memories he had collected of Molly during the past weeks from running like a filmstrip in his mind. Watching as Molly picked up her phone a pang of loneliness sliced through his heart. She was getting on with her life— she no longer needed his help. Soon things would return to the way it had been before that night at the Diogenes Club. No more obsessing over flower bouquets. No more protecting her from Sherlock. No more kissing … He was startled out of his thoughts and back into Molly’s flat by a text arriving on his personal phone.
Muttering apologies he pulled out his mobile and found a photo of purple lilacs had been texted to him.
“When I went to change my clothes I Googled daffodils— just to check,” explained Molly gently to a rather stunned Mycroft. “You’re affections aren’t unrequited at all.”
//
Blinking her eyes open Molly found faint morning light filling her bedroom. Why am I awake? Moments later she felt the tip of a nose nuzzling the back of her neck. Ah. Soon she heard a sleepy request followed by more nuzzling. Rolling her eyes before closing them again she remained silent.
“So will you?” The voice was raspy with sleep and needy. Very needy.
“Mycroft,” huffed Molly still half asleep, “Really? The second night we share a bed and you ask me to do this?”
“You are a doctor. I should think you would find it relatively routine.” His nose was now drawing lazy loops on the back on her neck making the hairs stand up. He was insuring there was no way she was going back to sleep.
“You do it for me, I’ll do it for you,” he offered with a mischievous whisper. Molly let out a resigned sigh.
“Fine. But do not think this is going become a regular thing. Because it’s not,” Molly tried to sound stern while Mycroft was positively giddy as he handed her his phone.
“Who am I talking to?’
“The office of Work and Pensions— it’s his turn to chair the meeting.”
Putting on her best doctor voice Molly spoke with authority down the phone, “This is Dr Hooper. I’m ringing to let you know Mr Holmes won’t be attending the Cabinet meeting this morning— No— nothing serious— he should be able to resume his duties in a few hours— Yes— I will tell him to expect the minutes from the meeting later today. Thank you.” With a smirk she slapped the phone into Mycroft’s outstretched palm.
“Can’t believe I just did that. You are a bad influence on me.” she muttered snuggling back down under the covers.
Moments later her phone pinged. She opened one eye to read it.
SMS- “Hey Mols. Sorry to hear you are ill. The first half of your shift is sorted. Let me know if you need the afternoon off too. – Mike”
“Okay, roll over,” sighed Molly as she put her phone back on the bedside table. Mycroft did as he was told allowing Molly to become the big spoon. Wrapping her arms around him she pressed her ear against his pyjama covered back listening to his regular and strong heartbeat.
With contented looks on their faces they both drifted back to sleep.