Molly is babysitting when Sherlock calls her. It's a Wednesday, and her day off, so she really should have been expecting it but somewhere between trying to feed three picky eaters and preforming coin tosses to decide what they'd watch on the telly she'd been a bit…distracted.
"Oh, Sherlock, now's not really a good time," she holds the phone between her shoulder and ear and pries Caleb's hands out of the cookie jar.
"I need you, Molly," he says. "You're the only one who can get that file for me."
She hesitates a bit. "Oh….oh alright. But I'll have to –
"Excellent. I'll see you at Baker Street." He hangs up.
" – bring my nieces and nephew…." She finishes lamely.
It takes her a good thirty minutes to get the three of them dressed. Lilly spills her juice down her shirt just as they're about to leave and Molly is forced to change her. Katie stands moodily by the front door, glaring at her younger siblings in the way only an eldest child can manage.
It's takes her another half hour to get to St. Bart's and then another good twenty to get to Baker Street, having had to pop off and get a snack for the children between the two.
She arrives flushed, out of breath, and slightly irritated.
"Took you long enough," Sherlock says. "The file?"
She presses it into his hands and adjusts her bag on her shoulder. He flips it open as he walks away, ignoring her now that his needs have been fulfilled. On the couch sits his elder brother, whom she has always heard about, but never met.
"Um, hello," she offers.
"Good afternoon," he says. "You must me Miss Hooper."
"Yes. That's me," she blushes a bit. "Oh, and these are my nieces and nephew. Katie, Caleb, and Lilly."
Mycroft nods to the children and returns his attention to Molly. "I'm so glad you could be of assistance to my brother. It is very hard to find people on whom one can rely."
"I wouldn't have had to rely on her if you'd just gotten me the file in the first place, Mycroft," Sherlock interjects from behind the file.
"Indeed, but then I would have gone the whole day without having met such a lovely young woman. Quite a waste, I should say."
"Oh, God."
"Shut up, Sherlock."
Her subtle blush has been fanned into a flame and her face is on fire. Thunder rolls overhead and the sky opens up.
"I, um, I'd better get these little ones home," she says. "It was nice meeting you, Mr. Holmes."
"Mycroft, please," he stands and sees her to the door. The rain is coming down hard.
"Oh, um, umbrellas. Umbrellas, umbrellas, umbrellas," she mutters, digging in her bag. "Aha! Umbrellas!" She pulls three small umbrellas from inside her bag, two pink and one blue, and passes them out to the children.
"Right, is everyone set?" she surveys them. "The Brolly Brigade is ready to march!"
Lilly tugs on the hem of her skirt and motions with a tiny hand for her to come closer. She kneels down and Lilly whispers in her ear. She stands up, glances at Mycroft, and shakes her head. "I don't think so, love," she says.
"May I ask what that was about?" Mycroft asks.
"Oh, um, she, uh, wanted me to ask you if you wanted to be a part of The Brolly Brigade," she smiles a bit and points at the umbrella resting on his wrist.
He tosses his head back and laughs. "Does she now?"
"It's completely fine if you don't. I'm sure you're very busy and don't have time –
"I'm never too busy to help a beautiful woman," he says.
"Um, sorry?"
He tilts his head to the side in a manner that should be patronizing but somehow relates itself to be fondness. "You've come with umbrellas for the children, but not for yourself. I propose we share mine."
"Oh! Oh, yes. Thank you. That's very kind."
"Think nothing of it," he says as they step out into the rain together. "So, now, tell me about yourself, Miss Hooper."
"Molly. Call me Molly."