The Small Things

Mycroft got out of his car, and approached the door. He rapped on the door smartly with his umbrella handle. A few seconds later, hurried footsteps could be heard from inside, running down the stairs. The door opened to reveal Molly Hooper, half-hid behind the door and clad in an overly large cream jumper.

"Mycroft," she stated, "What are you doing here? You never come to visit."

"I've come to see Sherlock about an important matter, Ms. Hooper. Please excuse me," he answered dismissively. Stepping carefully around Molly into his brothers rather small entryway, Mycroft climbed the stairs to the upstairs flat.

Sherlock was clad in his red dressing gown, his back to the door tinkering with something on his cluttered dining table. "What is it now Mycroft? Got another government mess for me to clean up?" Sherlock sighed.

"Not this time brother dearest," Mycroft sneered. "This is a much more personal matter," his voice barely softening at the end. Most people would have missed it, but not Sherlock, he knew his brother all too well.

"A personal matter? I doubt you even have any personal matters at all Mycroft. But as you wouldn't be here if you didn't have a problem; and judging by the fact you came at all, it must be a large and rather delicate one. I'm afraid I can't help you. Now" he said, turning around to face Mycroft, "Go away. I have a case."

"No you don't. Not anymore." Mycroft said, glancing down at his phone. "I've had my men clear your schedule so you could assist me in this matter. They solved it this morning, and the culprit, a Mr. Denwink, is already in custody at Scotland Yard. As I've previously told you Sherlock, this is a matter of the utmost importance. It cannot wait."

"Mycroft," Sherlock seethed, his face livid, "I've told you before; never, ever, dare to even touch my work! How dare you solve MY case!"

"You forget Sherlock, I watched you grow up." Mycroft began, his voice steadily rising. "I knew you would be less likely to listen if you were preoccupied with a case. I need you utmost focus on-" But before he could continue, he was interrupted by a soft voice.

"Boys! You must stop shouting!" commanded the voice of Molly Hooper, who was currently standing right inside the flats main door. "Mycroft," she said, "You need to calm down. It's wrong and is very impolite of you to change Sherlock schedule without asking him first. Sherlock, please just listen to what he has to say. He came to you for help. He is admitting he needs you. Mycroft is admitting he needs you. You can't just turn away your own brother when he reaches out to you for help."

"I can do what I want Molly. I won't help anyone who interrupts my work," Sherlock snorted.

Molly's eyebrows rose up, and she walked slowly over to him. "So, you're telling me if I interrupted your work, because I needed you, you wouldn't help me because I interrupted your work," Molly questioned.

"No," Sherlock said softly, lowering his head. "You're different."

"How so," Molly questioned again.

"Because I care for you," he quietly said.

"And you're telling me," Molly said, "that it's completely different for him, your own family"

"He interrupted my work, Molly," he whined.

"Sherlock are you actually telling me care so little for your own brother that when he needs you, you'd abandon him, because he interrupted your work" Molly said, her voice confident; she knew she'd got him. "Please Sherlock, help him. For me," she whispered.

"Molly Hooper," Sherlock sighed, enveloping her into a hug. "For you, I would do anything."

"Are you to done with the domestics? Or shall I come back in about half an hour or so? I'd rather not, as this is most likely a matter of life and death," Mycroft said, in his usual emotionless tone of voice. Sherlock groaned, but he released Molly: he spun dramatically, his dressing gown flaring out behind him. He walked over and sat in his chair, and gestured of his brother to do the same. Mycroft sat the chair opposite, and Molly took up her usual position behind Sherlock's chair; her little pen and paper in hand, ready to take notes on case for later.

"So, brother dearest," Sherlock began. "What is so important you had to interrupt my work?"

"Sherlock," Molly warned.

"Fine," he snapped. "Tell me what is so vastly important you came to ME for help?"

"Anthea is missing."