A/N: For those who are unaware, this is a sequel to my other story 'Her Judgement, His Pride', which you don't have to have read to get this story. It'll just include a few moments from that fic, but nothing too major. So, check it out if you want! This will mostly deal with Sherlock and Mycroft's relationship:)

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Claire sat alone in a restaurant reading a book. She was supposed to meet Mycroft there, but he hadn't arrived yet. It was raining that evening, so she hoped he hadn't gotten into any trouble with traffic. A waitress gave her a fake smile as she refilled her glass of water for the third time.

"Sure, you don't want to order now?"

Claire shook her head. "No. It's alright. I'm expecting someone."

"Date?"

"Husband, actually."

"Recently married?"

"Yes. Excuse me," she replied as she hid her face behind her menu.

The waitress gave a shrug and walked away. Claire gave a small sigh of relief as she checked her phone. Mycroft hadn't texted or called. She rested her elbows on the table as she waited a bit longer. A few gasps from behind made her sit up and turn around. Her jaw hung open as Mycroft walked in. He was soaking wet. Claire grabbed a few napkins as he took his seat in front of her.

She wiped his face dry and she turned when she felt the waitress staring at her, snickering. Mycroft stared down at the table as she finished cleaning his face. "Thank you. I'm terribly sorry. I didn't mean to get here to so late."

Claire sat back down and cleared her throat. "What happened to you? You could get sick, walking around like that."

"I forgot my umbrella at work," he confessed and she raised both eyebrows in surprise.

"Mycroft, you should've called me and gone back for it. It's your grandfather's. I would've understood."

He shivered a bit. "I looked everywhere for it. I was already ten minutes late, as it is."

She took her own coat and put it over him as a gentleman in a suit appeared by their table. The snotty waitress was there next to him, folding her arms. Mycroft knew what was coming. The man cleared his throat and smiled. "Evening, is there a problem?"

Claire grimaced. "I don't believe so. We're all good here, sweet of you to ask."

"I'm afraid your, uh, date isn't properly dressed to dine here, ma'am. I hope you understand that he needs to leave."

Mycroft took out a few bills and handed them over to, what Claire could only guess was the owner. "Now's not exactly the time for petty requests, sir. I'm really not in the best of moods, you see."

The man stared at the bills and took them from Mycroft with a smile. "Of course, my apologies. Have a good night-"

Claire stood up from her seat and snatched the money away from him. Mycroft and the waitress stared wide eyed as Claire narrowed her eyes. "That won't be necessary. We'll be leaving."

She took Mycroft's hand and dragged him out of the restaurant. Mycroft took his hand back as they walked out with everyone staring at them. Claire stretched her arms once they were out and side-smiled as it had stopped raining. "So, how about a pizza?"

Mycroft handed her her coat. "I had that under control, you know."

"Oh, that much was clearly obvious. The menu wasn't tempting me, anyway. Let's just get a pizza and go to Baker street."

She walked ahead as Mycroft grimaced, following behind. "Baker street? What for?"

"I need my spirits lifted after dealing with that insufferable man. Besides, I haven't seen Sherlock and John in months. I think he misses you most of all."

Mycroft rolled his eyes. "Oh, I wouldn't be too sure."