There was no doubt about it, he was not the one most would expect her to end up with. In fact, the way he'd treated her in recent years had probably made him the last person they suspected her to marry.

"Wasn't he the one who used your flat?" Alice, her friend from work asked. "He was always nicking body parts, and he shaved Toby!"

"Yes, that's him," Molly said. Granted most of the time, people only remembered the bad things Sherlock did.

"I thought you hated him!"

"I never hated him!" Molly insisted. "He's a bit abrasive, sometimes, and he can be bossy, but that's just his way." Molly was not posing a very good argument. Alice only frowned at her. "Okay, yes, he performs experiments in our flat, and he shaved Toby once, half the time he forgets important things like sulfuric acid eats away at tile, or the proper way to store cadavers, or to feed himself, but he's never forgotten me," she quirked a smile then. "Through everything, we've been constant in each other's lives. He's told me things that he's never shared with anyone, not even John. He trusts me, trusts me implicitly, and I trust him."

"You've nothing in common, I thought," Alice said. "I mean… he can't stand anything moving unless it's got to do with a murder case or one of his experiments."

"On the contrary," she replied her smile was fond and warm. "We've a great deal in common, we both love our work, and as they often coincide, we get to work together. He's not your typical romantic, and I can live with that, because I suppose I'm not either. We're more similar than you think."

"But-"

"Look," Molly set her cup down. "Sherlock loves me, I don't doubt him."

"What about that Janine girl?" Alice asked. "He pretended to love her, he led her on!"

"Are you saying you've never led someone on?"

"No. I can honestly say I haven't."

"I'm not saying it was right, it was wrong,"

"I'm sure he told her he loved her plenty of times," Alice crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm sure he gave her plenty of smiles and fond looks the same as he gives you. How do you know he's not faking it with you?" Molly's eyes almost twinkled.
"Because he smiles at me when I'm not looking." Alice frowned.

"What?"

"Don't ask me how I know, I'm afraid that's a secret, but when he thinks I'm not looking, he smiles at me," Molly said. "With Janine, he was trying to fool her, so he told her he loved her every day."

"And he doesn't tell you?" Alice asked, disbelieving.

"Not in so many words. Sherlock doesn't throw the word around carelessly, that's not who he is. He doesn't like over sentimentality, and doesn't use the word lightly."

"Wait a moment, he still hasn't told you he loves you?!"

"Not…literally, but I know he does."

"Humph."

Molly just shook her head, sighing. She couldn't explain how she knew he loved her. When Sherlock rested his forehead against hers, just when he'd open his mouth to speak, but no words would come, that was when he meant to say so. The words wouldn't come, not yet anyway, and Molly understood he was afraid to say them. But she could see how he looked at her. He was desperate to prove to her he wasn't pretending. She didn't push him beyond what he would give, and so she said it for the both of them. In the stillness of the night, when she'd wake from a dream, he'd be there to soothe her. When he sent coffee to the lab while he was on a case, or texted for dinner plans, remembering even if he didn't eat on a regular basis, she did. Nobody knew why he always kept tissues in his inside coat pockets, it was for her allergies. Or when his phone began to ring, people laughed because it was some girly pop song. It was the ringtone he'd set for Molly. He'd seen her singing and dancing to it the day after he proposed.

"Just trust me, okay?" Alice sighed heavily.

"Well if you're really sure, you know I'll support you." Still skeptical, though somewhat appeased by Molly's reassurance, Alice hugged her goodbye and then headed out of the café, hurrying through the rain down the block to where a dark car was waiting.

"Well?" Mycroft asked as Anthea pulled off the hat hiding her long hair, she smiled a knowing smile. She combed her fingers through her dark tresses, tossing the hat aside.

"He loves her," she replied.

"Are you certain?" he pressed. "I will not have Doctor Hooper led on like that wretched PA of Magnussen's."

"As certain as I am that you love me," she teased. Mycroft coughed, raising an eyebrow.

"That is not what we are discussing."

"How do you think I know?" Anthea challenged.

"You…well…obviously the way I treat you."

"How do people outside this car think you treat me?"

"As a personal assistant."

"Yes, in fact if we told everyone right now that we are married, what do you suppose they would say?" Mycroft was quiet. He loathed these moments when she humbled him. He knew very well what everyone would say. They'd decide it was a marriage of convenience, that he could never make Anthea happy. They'd agree that he was married more to his work and that the relationship was just for show. They would decree he wasn't capable of feeling anything.

"They would say I am unsuitable."

Mycroft knew very well his brother loved Molly Hooper. He'd seen through the ridiculous farce of Janine within moments, playing along merely for sport. When it came to Molly though, it was an entirely different game, one that he would be certain to assure her happiness, whether or not Sherlock loved her. If she was not entirely happy with his little brother, he would see that the relationship was ended. Mycroft had sent Anthea to befriend Molly, to find out for him if she was truly happy.

"She understands him," Anthea said, interrupting his thoughts. "He's so much like you, you know."

"I suppose that's a compliment."

"If you like," she smiled. "He doesn't like to say 'I love you' either." Mycroft looked at her then, expression unreadable. Her smile met her eyes, soft and warm. "He smiles at her when she's not looking."

"If she's not looking, then how-"

"Same way I know when you're smiling at me," she replied before he could finish. She moved across the car to sit beside him, tucking her arm in his.
"I certainly don't smile," he huffed, though he allowed her to rest her head on his shoulder. She laughed.

"Yes you do, when you think no one's looking, when we're alone. You smile with your eyes."

They rode in companionable silence for a time, Mycroft quietly pleased that Anthea knew him so well, and too that Molly seemed to understand Sherlock.

"She'll be happy?" Mycroft asked. "You're certain he isn't using her?"

"She'll be as happy as I am," Anthea said. Mycroft rolled his eyes. "No, he's not using her," she laughed and kissed him. "Now stop fussing in your brother's life."

As if on cue, his phone lit up.

STOP SENDING ANTHEA TO SPY ON MY FIANCÉE. – SH

Apologies, brother-mine, but ever since that entire scandal with Magnussen's PA, one can't be too careful. – MH

That PA can hardly be compared to Molly Hooper. – SH

So pleased to know you've finally joined the masses and found love. Do remind me to see my tailor about the proper attire for the wedding. – MH

Naturally. However as John is undoubtedly my best man, it means you'll be demoted to groomsman. You'll be walking down the aisle with one of the bridesmaids. – SH

The Hell I will. –MH

I thought you'd be pleased to be walking with Molly's good friend, Alice. – SH

I'm sure you know who she is. – SH

By the by, condolences- er, congratulations on your own nuptials, brother-mine. Mummy was rather upset you'd hidden it from her though. She'll be calling you shortly about Alice, or rather Anthea. –SH

YOU TIT. – MH

Next time don't send your wife to do your dirty work. Just ask. –SH

When have you ever told the truth to me? –MH

When it came to Molly Hooper? Always. – SH

Mycroft tossed the phone across the car, sulking. Anthea laughed, having read the entire conversation.

"Entirely unsuitable," he muttered.

"Entirely," she agreed and kissed him.