"Doctor Hooper, I presume?"

Molly looked up from the paperwork she had been filling out on her desk (making sure bodies were returned to their proper places and all). There was a man standing by the door, which was strange because she could have sworn she had just locked it.

"I'm sorry sir, but the morgue is closed." She smiled politely, "I'm afraid you'll have to leave."

The man didn't seem put off by Molly's dismissal. Instead, he calmly began walking towards her. He was definitely a wealthy man, judging by his suit. Then again, Molly wasn't a good just of men's clothing, "Fortunately, I am not here to see any of your…patients." He replied, tapping a black umbrella against the tile floor, "No, Doctor Hooper, I am here to see you."

"Me?" Molly blinked up at the man. "Why would you need to see me?"

The man was standing next to her at her desk, "We have a mutual acquaintance. Sherlock Holmes."

Molly could feel her heart beat in her chest at a rapid pace. Memories of Jim flashed through her mind. If this man knew Sherlock and was coming after her alone, it couldn't be anything good. She quickly pushed her chair from her desk, getting up and preparing to run.

"Really, Doctor Hooper. There's no need to be frightened of me." The man shook his head, "I know your past experience with Sherlock's…acquaintances has been dubious at best, but I assure you no harm will come to you."

"Forgive me if I don't believe you…" Molly tried to keep her voice steady, but she knew from the man's amused expression that she hadn't done a good job.

"Well then, why don't you text Sherlock?" He picked up Molly's phone, holding it out to her, "Or better yet, text Doctor Watson, as he will be more likely to answer you."

After a brief moment to think through her options, Molly snatched her phone from the man's hand, "Who exactly am I inquiring about?"

"Ask if he knows Mycroft."

Molly looked at the man, Mycroft, before typing out a short message to John. After a moment's thought, she used her phone to take a picture of him, attaching it to the message.

Do you know this man? He says his name is Mycroft. - Molly

Mycroft chuckled, "How resourceful of you to include a picture."

As much as Molly wanted to reply (which wasn't much), she found her throat too dry to do so. She simply stood in silence while she waited for John's reply. Her heart almost stopped when her phone finally did chime, her hands shaking slightly as she opened the text.

Yeah, that's Mycroft, Sherlock's brother. Why are you with him? –JW

Molly stared at the words on the screen. Sherlock's brother. She looked at the man in front of her. There wasn't much of a family resemblance at first glance, with Sherlock having black curly hair and bright blue eyes while this man had short auburn hair and dark blue eyes. But there were some similarities, like the strong jaw line and the straight, pointed nose.

"You're Sherlock's brother then?" She finally asked, not answering John's text.

Mycroft nodded, "Yes, I am."

"Why didn't you just say so?" Molly shook her head, trying to calm herself from the scare.

"I highly doubt you would have believed me if I had told you, especially since Sherlock has not mentioned me to you before."

That was true, Molly wouldn't have believed it if she hadn't heard (or rather, read) it straight from John himself. "So why are you here, Mr. Holmes?"

"Please, call me Mycroft." There a light chuckle from the mysterious Holmes man, "And I came to thank you for putting up with my wayward baby brother. I'm sure he must be a burden to deal with."

Getting a thank you from a Holmes, now there was something that didn't happen very often, "Um, you're very welcome, but it's no problem at all." Molly shook her head, "Sherlock is my friend, I'm happy to help him?"

Mycroft quirked an eyebrow, "Friend? I'm sure you are aware of how many friends my brother has."

"Yes, well, I know Sherlock can be a little hard to be around." Molly nodded, "But he tries, and he's getting better. John's been good for him."

There was a long moment of silence in the morgue, with Mycroft watching Molly and Molly trying her best to keep from fidgeting too much. If Mycroft was anything like his brother, he would not take well to mindless habits.

Finally, Mycroft nodded, "I see."

Molly blinked, "I'm sorry, but see what exactly?"

A smirk tugged on the older man's lips, "Everything, of course."

Of course. He was a Holmes; he could probably see right through her just like Sherlock did. Well, no sense in worrying about it, Molly sighed, "Was there anything else you needed, Mister…Mycroft…"

"Of course, I still need to thank you." Mycroft smoothed the material of his suit coat, "Allow me to take to you to dinner."

Dinner? That wasn't what Molly expected at all. But what could the harm be in dinner? "Well…alright then, Mycroft. When?"

Mycroft smirked, turning his umbrella on its end, "Why, now, of course."