A/N: Set just after Molly's engagement ends and a few months after the events of "Doctor Strange." This is a work in progress. I only have this chapter done right now and I have so many other things I'm working on that it'll be a while before ch 2 is up. Stephen's street clothes and the Cloak's ability to shapeshift are from the "Doctor Strange" comic by Aaron and Bachalo.

It was a moment of pure desperation that made Molly Hooper book a two-week holiday to New York City. Her desperation was borne from ending her engagement to the nice, dull, and dim Tom, not to mention realizing she and Sherlock would never be anything more than friends. She needed to get away from London, corpses, and consulting detectives for a fortnight. Mentally drowning her torch for Sherlock in the Atlantic as she crossed over it, she resolved to not even talk with a man while she was on holiday.

After retrieving her bags at the carousel, she caught a cab to The Walker Hotel in Greenwich Village, an area of Manhattan that her research told her was both hip and historical. Jet lag caught up to her as soon as she saw the queen bed in her room, so she decided to call it a day and explore New York tomorrow.

In another part of Greenwich Village, Dr. Stephen Strange was in the small but growing library of the Sanctum Sanctorum, reading. The fact that he was hovering eight feet off the floor was due to the Cloak of Levitation on his shoulders. Stephen didn't mind, it made getting books from the taller shelves easier.

"The Cloak of Levitation is not to be used in place of a stepladder, Stephen," Wong said disapprovingly.

Stephen looked up from his copy of The Comte de Saint-Germain: Last Scion of the House of Rakoczy and grinned at his mentor. "It was the Cloak's idea, not mine." The Cloak lowered him to the floor. "Any word on Mordo?"

"No," Wong admitted. "No one has seen him since he attacked Pangborn."

"We'll find him, Wong," Stephen said confidently. "Everyone needs to stay vigilant. How are the repairs to the London Sanctum coming along?"

"They're almost complete. We need to approve a new Master for it."

Stephen nodded. "I was looking over the candidates you suggested. Any of them would be good, how on Earth do we choose?"

Wong actually smiled a bit. "Now you see why we need a Sorcerer Supreme."

The next morning, Stephen woke up once again with his head on a book and a crick in his neck. He shot a glance at the Cloak, which was rubbing one corner over another in a passable imitation of the "shame on you" gesture.

Stephen rolled his eyes. "I know, I know, but I still have years of lessons to learn and no time to learn them."

He took a shower when was about to put on a fresh uniform when the Cloak tossed a pair of black jeans at him. "You want me to wear street clothes?" he asked it, confused and amused at the Cloak's sense of logic.

Cloak bobbed the collar, its version of nodding, then tossed Stephen a black t-shirt and a denim jacket. Stephen shrugged then got dressed. He shoved his hands in the jacket's pockets and found a pair of camel leather gloves. He put them on, feeling odd about wearing street clothes again but he assumed the Cloak had a plan. "Alright, now what?"

In response, the Cloak reduced itself to a long red scarf and wrapped itself around Stephen's neck. "Nice trick," he said approvingly. The Cloak raised one end and pointed at the door. "We're leaving, got it." Stephen checked the wards then left the Sanctum.

Molly checked her purse to make sure she had everything – wallet, keycard for her room, mace, sunglasses, and guidebook – then left her hotel. She was walking down the sidewalk with her nose in the guidebook when she ran into someone, knocking her flat on her bum. "Oof!"

The man turned to her and for a moment, Molly was back in London, looking at a very familiar pair of blue-green eyes. Only this pair also had flecks of amber. She mentally shook herself. Not Sherlock. Then she got a look at his cheekbones and wondered. Straight hair, dark brown instead of black, grey at the temples. Mustache/beard combo, what's that called? Maybe it's Sherlock in disguise. Molly realized she was staring when the admittedly handsome man smirked at her.

"I'm not him," he said pleasantly as he helped her up.

He's reading my mind? "Not who?" she asked.

"Sherlock Holmes." He grinned. "I assume that's who you thought I was."

She stared at him. "Yes. Do you know him? Does this happen to you often?"

"In order, we're cousins, and usually only when I'm in London, where I assume you're from." At her nod, he went on. "Everyone there seems to think I'm Sherlock in disguise. Do you know him or are you one of his fans?"

"He's a friend," Molly said. More or less. She held out her hand. "Molly Hooper."

He shook it, still grinning. "Dr. Stephen Strange. I take it he's never mentioned me."

"Sherlock only talks about his immediate family under duress." She smiled a bit. "He's never mentioned extended family at all. I take it he's never mentioned me either."

"Not by name. What do you do? The few times he's mentioned his friends, he only refers to them by their professions. You're not the army doctor, so you're one of the police detectives, the pathologist, or the landlady."

Typical Sherlock. "I'm the pathologist."

"Ah, so it's Dr. Hooper," he said, smiling a bit. "You threw me by not using your title. Sherlock's fond of you."

Just not fond enough. "Are you a medical doctor?"

"Former neurosurgeon." Stephen's grin was a cross between boyish and apologetic. "So, since I was the immovable object opposing your irresistible force, why don't I treat you to coffee?"

Molly couldn't help smiling back. "I'd like that." She expected the nearest Starbucks but was pleasantly surprised when he took her to a small family-owned café.

Stephen waited until they were seated with their drinks before smiling at her playfully. "What's it like being friends with Sherlock? I assume it's like being friends with a five-year-old on a permanent sugar high."

Molly laughed softly. "Close. He's very demanding of everyone's time and attention. He used to be more manipulative, but he's gotten better at remembering that other people's feelings need to be respected. Are you two close?"

"No, we never have been. Geography is partly to blame. He's always lived in England, I grew up in Nebraska and went to medical school here. The fast pace appealed to me, so I stayed." He smiled faintly. "I can no longer keep up but I still love this city."

"Do you ever go back to your hometown?"

"Not since before the… Not for a long time." He stared down at his gloved hands.

"Do you miss it?"

"I miss my family more than I miss Nebraska. They're gone now."

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said softly. "I lost my parents too."

"Would they be proud of you?"

Molly smiled fondly. "Dad was, he lived long enough to see me graduate from uni. Mum would think I have a macabre profession, but she'd be glad I'm self-reliant. What about yours?"

"They knew I wanted to be a doctor, so they'd be proud I made it."

"You said you're a former surgeon, what do you do now?"

Stephen sipped his coffee and Molly got the sense that he was stalling. "I was in a bad car accident two years ago. My hands were ruined, so no more surgery for me. I left the medical profession."

"But you still call yourself Doctor," Molly said, smiling and trying to lighten the mood for him.

Stephen smiled back. "Hey, I earned that title with a lot of hard work. I took a different path. These days, my official title is Master, but I never go by it."

"What is it that you do?"

He grinned. "I have to save some secrets for later – gotta keep the mystery alive."

That afternoon, Molly's mobile chirped and she knew exactly who it must be.

4:10p Had enough of the States yet? SH

4:12p Not nearly. I came all the way to New York just to run into one of your relatives. Molly

4:13p Can't be Mycroft, he doesn't leave London unless it's on fire. SH

4:15p Your cousin, Stephen Strange. Nice man. Molly

4:16p Can't be him, my cousin Stephen is anything but nice. It's the only reason why I like him. SH

4:18p He says he's changed recently. Molly

Stephen was in his bedroom, trying to decide what to wear, when his cell pinged.

4:21p My pathologist tells me you've met. SH

4:27p YEP SHE IS SWEET

4:28p What the HELL did you do to your hands? SH

4:34p YOU GOT ALL OF THAT FROM ONE TEXT?

4:35p 1) You told Molly you've changed.

4:35p 2) You're avoiding apostrophes and punctuation because they require more keystrokes.

4:36p 3) Caps lock is on so you don't have to worry about capitalizing.

4:36p 4) Your texts take forever. SH

4:41p CAR ACCIDENT HANDS WRECKED CANNOT OPERATE

His phone rang not even a minute later. Stephen pressed the button, smirking. "I can't remember the last time you called me, Sherlock."

"I want the whole story from the beginning," Sherlock replied, irritated. "If I waited for you to type it out, you'd be at it until the next Ice Age."

Stephen told him everything, from the accident to becoming Master of the New York Sanctum. He hadn't planned on telling Sherlock about his new path as a sorcerer, but he knew his cousin wouldn't be satisfied until he knew everything. When he was done, there was silence on the other end.

"You really expect me to believe you're some kind of wizard? Like the people in those children's books?"

"There's a difference between wizardry and sorcery," Stephen started to say, then muttered, "Oh, screw it." Pulling his Sling Ring from his pocket, he put it on then formed a gateway to his cousin's sitting room. Past the ring of sparks, he could see Sherlock laying on the sofa, staring at him. Stephen waved at him, smirking. "Satisfied?"

"For now, yes," Sherlock said, sounding a bit dazed.

Stephen closed the gateway then picked up his cell again. "I expect you to keep my abilities a secret. Unlike you, I don't need a horde of fans."

"Have you told Molly?"

"I'm planning on doing that after I get to know her." Stephen paused. "It's a little late to be asking this, but-"

"No, I don't mind you dating Molly," Sherlock said. "We're just friends. You're certainly a better match for her than Meat Dagger."

Stephen blinked in surprise. "Meat Dagger? No, wait, I don't want to know. Are you seeing anyone, Sherlock?"

Sherlock mumbled something that sounded a lot like "sergeant." "Not that it's any of your business," he added testily.

Stephen just laughed. "It was good to talk to you, Sherlock. Let's not wait three years to do it again."

Sherlock mumbled something then hung up. A moment later, Stephen received one last text.

5:31p Be good to my pathologist. SH