Title: Around Midnight

Author: G.G. Halcyon

Fandom: Sherlock

Pairing: Molly/Mycroft

Rating: M

Warning: Explicit adult themes

Publish: 2014

CHAPTER 1: THE BRIDESMAID

She didn't know whether to be irked by the fact that her mother's love life thrived in comparison to her own or the fact that after less than a year of widowhood her mother had chosen that day to marry some big wig official who she dreaded to call her step-father. She felt like she was going to be sick.

Molly leaned against the bathroom sink and stared at the running water, catching her breath and preventing herself from heaving.

'Please tell me this isn't happening,' she prayed like a mantra, hoping that she was dreaming and that the predicament was certainly something she would have never in her lifetime have found herself in.

She was the bridesmaid of her sixty-five year old mother. This solitary fact no doubt nailed the coffin to her spinsterhood, forcing Molly to accept the reality that she was destined to be alone forever. It wouldn't surprise her if everyone already knew she was way past her prime. No one would be surprise that the youngest of the Hooper children lacked the appeal to attract and maintain any sensible man, nor would they flinch at the fact that Molly gave up any serious attempt to attract one either. It was a fact that was to be accepted.

Turning the faucet off, Molly glanced at her reflection, fixed her hair and smooth down her lilac satin dress and stepped out of the restroom and into the hallway to join the others. She prayed that she had enough power in her left to maintain the fake smile and air of happiness that her family expected from her. She hoped no one noticed other wise as she headed down the hall way and out to the lawn where people gathered after the wedding ceremony. She wanted to turn away, but forced herself to continue to join the others.

"Oh! Molly, sweetheart, there you are!"

Her sister-in-law Leona Marie-Claire Hooper, pranced towards her, holding a chubby giggling Phillip, Molly's 9-month-old nephew, in her arms.

Molly greeted her sister-in-law with a smile, and gently placed a peck on the forehead of her nephew's cheeks. The sight of Leona holding her little one tugged at Molly's heartstrings, and created a tightness in her stomach. A part of her wished that she would look as radiant and overly feminine as Leona. Her light-blond curly hair created a halo around her perfectly smooth oval face, and sharpened the brightness of her green smiling eyes. She depicted someone who Molly knew she'd never be—a beautiful wife and mother blessed with confidence and happiness shining through her.

"Molly, did you know I looked all over for you?" Leona's tone and expression showed worry, and brought Molly back from her reverie.

"Georgie said you may have stormed off someplace," Leona continued in a hush tone, "Don't tell Georgie I told you... but he was worried that maybe you just left or something. I told him not to be ridiculous, of course who wouldn't do something like that!"

Her eyes darted around them as if not wanting everyone to hear.

Molly forced a smile on her lips, and coerced a light laugh, trying her best to hide the slight hurt she felt. The idea that her younger brother thought so negatively of her bothered her, and yet didn't surprise her. It was not as if she tried to hide her distaste for her mother's matrimony; nor did she show any sincere happiness when the announcement of the engagement was given either. The truth really was that Molly was surprise that her brother didn't trust her to act the part of a happy bridesmaid daughter, and simply feared for the worst.

"You and Georgie act like I don't want to be here," Molly feigned being overly hurt by Leona's declaration; she did her best to sound sincere, to sound as if what was said was so shockingly surprising. "I would not miss mum's wedding for any day, Leona. This day means the world to her and...I'm just happy that she's happy, you know?" The truth: Molly didn't want to be there at all.

Leona pulled Molly in a light hug, before letting her go. "Oh Molly, Georgie said that you were the closest to your dad, and that you may take this whole remarriage thing the hardest... I just want you to know that you can talk to me, Mols, if you need to someone to talk to."

Molly already had enough of hearing how her brother Georgie thought she may cause a scene or make their mother unhappy with her forced display of 'joyfulness' for her mother's remarrying after less than a year of being a window to her father.

Molly had her ideas regarding her mother's new husband. Her mother had always been very overbearing, demanding, and not the most caring woman. At the time her father was in the late stages of his lung cancer, Molly's mother had barely been present in assisting her father with his health and treatments. She had decided to let go of her father long before he was dead. The thought bothered Molly and brought a bitterness and anger towards her mother; yet, she couldn't say that she didn't love her mother...she was after all still family. It was her duty to be there at the wedding, to play the dutiful eldest child and only daughter. It didn't mean that she didn't hate being there at that moment. Molly mentally shook herself and decided she couldn't allow such train of thought ruin her carefully crafted facade of 'happy Molly' that the world saw.

"Leona,thank you, that means a lot... but I'm all right and I'm really happy for my mum."

Molly was surprised how sincere her false words sounded especially repeating it a second time; it was simple.

She grabbed her glass of Lemondrop martini from the table and her clutch.

"Tell, Georgie to stop worrying, and that he can stop having you be a sweetheart and be in charge of hunting me down."

Leona nodded and smiled at her in understanding. Phillip gurgled and reached out to Molly with his tiny hands and tried to capture the waves of dark-blonde hair that fell on Molly's shoulders. Molly brushed her hair away from the little one's grasp, only to watch him start to fuss. She tapped her little nose and he smiled at her with large innocent blue eyes, and gave her a wide tooth-less grin.

"Did you want to hold him?" Leona began to hand Phillip to Molly, but the child started to cry.

"It looks like he's happy with his Mummy, right Phil?" The baby cooed in response to her.

"Well...," Leona adjusted her hold on Phillip so he faced away from them, "I'll tell Georgie that I checked on you before he freaks out. You know he's just being a big brother, he gets worried, and you know how he is."

"I know, don't worry. Tell him I'm fine and I'm going to mingle a little bit outside."

"Great idea! Maybe see your Mum!"

"I'll do that."

I need a drink.

She left Leona and her nephew and headed to the direction of the bar. By the time she got there her lemon drop was replaced by a glass of vodka-grape fruit mix or 'Grey hound' as her bartender called it.

She wasn't much of a drinker, but she realized that if she was expected to survive the whole night, she would have to be a little bit more numb and relaxed. She swirled the contents of the glass of Grey hound in her hand and drank the contents in one gulp. It was smoother than she had expected.

"Make that two Grey Hounds," she smiled at the cute bartender.

She's surprised that he doesn't ask or make a comment about the drinks –after all she was told the minimum was one drink at a time. She figured that he probably had seen his lot of alcoholics and drunkards at weddings, and at this point didn't bother to give her qualms about it.

The bartender finished making the first of her two drinks and set it in front of her. She grabbed the glass and it was gone the moment it touched her lips. Real ladies sip, a voice said in her head, bullocks, I'm not a lady, I'm a spinster! She received a funny glance from the bartender.

"Excuse me, miss?" he asked, "You okay?"

Molly blushed as she realized she said her last thought out loud.

"Uhm...yes, I'm okay! Can I get my other drink please?"

The bartender glanced at the empty glass. He didn't have to say anything, but simply nodded his head, Molly could tell he was already accessing her as he eyed her carefully as he to mixed her second drink.

He's probably wondering `if I'm some desperate loner, who would end the night inebriated and dancing on the tables and yelling about bitter love.

"Don't tell my boyfriend I'm sneaking a drink at the bar," she smiles—surprising herself how easy she could lie about having any man in her life. The bartender seemed at ease after hearing this and his grin brought out the brightness and allure in his eyes. She's glad he believed her rouse. A part of her didn't want to appear too pathetic in front of this stranger anyway. She didn't want him to think she was going to be a drunk.

"I'm taking that second drink up for him," she tells him. She really didn't want to appear pathetic.

"I'm sure he'll like it." He winked at her and finished making the drink, and in a few minutes Molly was once again with a full glass of Grey Hound in front of her. Somehow she had the feeling that it would be stronger as she noted the bartender adding just a tad bit more vodka in the mix. She left him a generous tip, grabbed her drink for her 'boyfriend', her clutch around her wrist and waved goodbye.

"I'll see you around, miss."

"I'll be back!"

She doesn't know if she was serious about that declaration or not. A part of her was certain that by the time she finished her mixed drinks she would certainly be needing a ride home.

Well, that'll be where Georgie comes in.

/

/

/

Her face felt flushed and the tingling numbness of alcohol already began to course through her body. Molly realized that her lips were somehow in an upturned smile, and she found herself making significant eye contact with many of the wedding guests. Another part of Molly—the remaining sober part of Molly—prayed that she wouldn't act on her declaration, and that she would finish her drink and call it a day. The 'day' she referred to was one that involved her fulfillment of her duty as her mother's maid of honor/bridesmaid and socializing, and being a "good girl", and not causing a scene, and simply dissapearing undetected.

The very thought of socializing and pretending to be pleased with her mother's remarriage made Molly feel sick to her stomach, and her chest ached from heartache.

Screw it!

The dark thoughts were shut down with a large gulp of her mixed drink.

She almost stumbled up the stairs heading to the main clubhouse-another sign she really needed to get the hell out of plain sight until she made a fool of herself and her mother and brother realized how correct they were in the remarriage making Molly bitter.

Molly smirked and huffed, realizing that the alcohol she consumed did not help at all with her maintaining her mousy, un-confident spinster Molly facade that everyone seemed to know so well. Her truer colors were beginning to show; and she noticed this as she obtained glances from nearby male guess, and she noticed her shoulders were more relaxed, pushed back in confidence, and her gate a lot of certain.

I shouldn't have drank so much, Molly thought. I need to get out of here before I make a fool of myself, and especially before I see-

"Molly, I'm so glad you're here!"

Bullocks.

The club house cabin door opened and Amelia Hooper, her mother, greeted her. She smiled warmly at her daughter as she walked towards her and enveloped her in a hug.

Molly couldn't help but feel the roughness of the embroidery on her mother's champagne wedding dress graze her chest; she frowned at the thought that of all people it was her mother weather the wedding dress, and she was the bridesmaid.

Amelia's blue eyes took in her young daughter's state, seeming to analyze her and Molly noted how pleased her mother seemed to look.

I don't think she knows how close to drunk I am.

Amelia's gaze started at Molly's heels—3 inch heels that she would have never thought to ever seeing her in one; to the curve of her body in a fitted pencil skirt-length lavender one shoulder-strap dress. Amelia almost looked like she had tears in her eyes as she took in the view of her youngest and only daughter. She noted Molly's shoulder length blond hair, down and lightly curled and not in the usual unruly ponytail. Similar blue-green eyes stared back at her, and Amelia ignored her daughter's hazy look, but instead was pleased with the view of her daughter finally being 'put together'. To Amelia, this meant a step closer to finding a husband for her 'little Molly'.

As for Molly, she cared less about her current state of dress, although she could admit that she knew that she looked more attractive when she 'dressed as a lady'—as her mother always said. The one thing though that her mother dearest didn't phantom was that Molly's job involved her being surrounded by dead people, cutting up dead people, blood, guts—and the last thing she wanted everyday was to worry about what she was going to wear at 4 AM, when her only audience already has left and gone the world. Molly mentally shook herself for the dark thought—a voice in the back of her head stated that she was only getting older, and she couldn't revert back to being a horrid looking spinster like her Auntie Bernice. Another part of her really didn't care because deep down she had a feeling that she just had to accept the fact that lonely-single-Molly was here to stay.

"Gosh, Molly, my dear, you look so beautiful," Amelia began, as she took one of Molly's arm—the one without the drink—and began to usher her towards the lounge where her friends gathered. They pause briefly.

"But why do you look so dreary, my dear? Would it hurt to put on that charming smile of yours?" her mother whispers in her ear.

"I am smiling," she whispers back, her cheeks hurting from the smile platered there.

"Not with your eyes, my dear." Amelia turns to her, their eyes meeting, and her look unreadable, "but I do hope that changes soon."

They continued their way into the lounge where people chatted, conversed and their laughter filled the surrounding.

Molly already felt her anxiety rise—she hated being around so many people, complete strangers to her—these situations always led to her speaking and stammering like a bumbling idiot. She looked at the last glass of her potent drink in her hand, and found herself finishing it in three gulps (as gracefully as so her mother didn't scold her). Better, she thought, as the warmness engulfed her and her cheeks turned flushed and she felt the comforting numb of the alcohol start to loosen her inhibitions. Drunk Spinster Molly was a socialist—well in comparison to the shy, blumbering one –she hopes.

Amelia turned to Molly, stopping on their tracks. "Honey, I'm going to introduce you to a few friends of mine." (Translation: I'm going to introduce you to my friends who have single sons your age, so that we can hook you up together, and get you a date.) She smiled at Molly, and Molly smiled her bright smile, one she hopes met her eyes—she was getting good at these facades on cue, or so she'd like to think so—

"There, you look so beautiful when you smile; instead of looking frowning and so serious, my dear." Amelia took Molly's hands in hers, "I really I'm glad you're here, sweetheart, and all I ask is that you enjoy yourself."

Molly squeezed her mother's hand in reassurance. "I'm enjoying myself, Mum, don't worry yourself."

She lied, but didn't want to ruin the day for her mother as much as she was not very fond of the whole marriage situation.

She straightened herself, and beamed at her mother, and together they head to Amelia's group of friends.

"I'll do the introducing, " Amelia tells her.

Molly wished she had another drink.

TBC