Molly wished her head ruled her heart, and not the other way around. She was hopeless in love, things never went right for her. Things would probably work out better for her if she wasn't so fatally in love with Sherlock Holmes, a fact which was blatantly obvious to anyone who came into contact with the two of them. She'd lost track of how long she'd pined after the consulting detective; she tried to reason with herself, telling herself Sherlock would never welcome anyone's advances, he was "married to his work", after all. He was forever saying the cruelest things to her, giving her false hope she stood a chance with him, only to knock her down.

Every time she managed to talk herself out of her ridiculous infatuation he'd appear, with his bouncy curls and rare smiles. His insults were always sugar-coated with his silky voice, and Molly couldn't help but fall for him over again.

Things had only gotten worse when John Watson arrived. Sherlock was nice to him… well, he insulted him less than he insulted anyone else. He even appeared to enjoy his company — he had to if they were living together.

Sherlock was obviously fascinated by John; whenever he was by himself, Sherlock would tell Molly everything about him. It was the little things that hurt the most. Sherlock remembered John's birthday; remembered how he took his tea; tried to be mindful of John's work hours; he knew his usual order for every restaurant they frequented. He never remembered anything about Molly, despite how long they'd known each other.

Molly caught Sherlock looking at John, Watching him; not deducing, just… looking. She noticed the barely-there, lingering touches, the secret smiles, smiles reserved only for John. John made Sherlock laugh. Not snigger derisively at someone's stupidity or chuckle at a clever pun, full-bodied laughter. Laughter that made his lips stretch wide, showing his teeth, the skin around his eyes crinkling, his curls bouncing atop his head as his body shuddered. Molly wished she knew how to make him laugh like that.

She missed Sherlock when she didn't see him for nearly two months. She knew he'd been busy with cases around the world, and he'd been involved in one of Scotland Yard's more high profile cases of the spring. She tried to use the time away from him to focus her mind on other things; her work, her cats. She even attempted a relationship but never made it past the second date — it wouldn't have worked, he was allergic to cats.

She was surprised when one day, John slipped into the lab alone.

"John!"

"Hello, Molly. Just here to drop off an invitation," John smiled, holding out an envelope. Molly smiled back, taking the invitation.

"What for?"

"It's his highness' birthday. I'm throwing the git a party."

"Oh… That doesn't sound very Sherlock."

John grinned. "It's not. He'll hate it."

"Oh, well, thank you."

"Don't bother getting him a present, he won't appreciate it."

Molly chuckled, looking down at the envelope. "Hmm… So, been busy? Any new cases?"

"Nothing new, no. Sherlock's turned the kitchen into a biohazard, I just had to get out."

"That's Sherock."

John smiled wistfully. "Indeed… Anyway, hope to see you on Sunday. Have a great day."

"You too."

With a quick grin, John left, leaving Molly stood staring at the envelope in her hands, turning it over to see her name scrawled on the front in John's doctor's handwriting. Suddenly all the progress she'd made flew out the window; she began planning what outfit to wear, how to do her hair so it'd definitely catch the detective's attention. Sunday couldn't come soon enough.

It finally did arrive, Molly nervously flattened down the material of her dress before letting herself into 221, climbing the seventeen steps to 221B. The "party" had already begun, Lestrade, Sarah, and Mrs Hudson were there, along with a young man Molly had never seen before. Mrs Hudson was the first to spot her.

"Molly dear! Come in! Let me take your coat."

Molly smiled, slipping her coat off, letting Mrs Hudson take it from her. Lestrade grinned at her, signing "drink?". Nodding, Molly moved further into the flat, looking for Sherlock, occasionally glancing to the unknown man. He was sat by the window, a glass of red wine in his fingers, a bored look on his face. He looked like a young Sherlock with glasses, and was clearly not interested in socialising with anyone. John appeared from Sherlock's bedroom.

"Molly! Glad you could make it! The birthday boy's sulking because Mycroft promised to visit."

Lestrade appeared at Molly's side, pushing a glass of white wine into her hand. "He said having one of his brothers in attendance was bad enough, but both was too much."

"He has another brother?"

John nodded towards the mystery man. "Felix Holmes. The youngest."

"Oh… wow… Sherlock never mentioned he has two brothers. I had no idea."

"Neither did I until I got an email asking if I could help in arranging a meeting with his boss and Sherlock, because Sherlock wasn't responding to his emails."

"I had no interest in working for MI-6," Sherlocked sniffed, appearing behind John. Molly smiled up at him. His hair had grown some since she'd last seen him, and his face looked fresh, like he'd been sleeping regularly.

"Happy Birthday, Sherlock."

Sherlock huffed. "Birthdays, dull."

John gave him a sharp elbow to the ribs. Sherlock scowled.

"I uh… Thank you."

"So… another brother?"

"Yes. Terribly busy, rarely see one another… he's only here to try and persuade me to consult with 'M'. I don't work for initials."

John sighed. "Could you please be nice? He's your brother!"

"So's Mycroft."

"Mycroft's an arse. Felix seems nice."

"Seems, John. Don't let his exterior fool you, he's just as manipulating and dangerous as Mycroft."

"But he's got a cat!"

Sherlock sneered. "That doesn't mean anything. Hitler had a dog, it doesn't make him a good person!"

"I'm not having this argument. Again. Just be polite to your guests."

Sherlock huffed, stomped over to his chair and flopped down. John gave a small quirk of the ips and went to fix himself a drink. Lestrade had moved over to talk to Sarah and Mrs Hudson. Sherlock's brother hadn't moved from his seat, tapping away at his phone. John stalked over to Sherlock, pressing a glass of scotch into his hand, before carding his fingers through his hair as he moved over to sit opposite Felix. Molly frowned. She'd never seen such an intimate touch between the two men; Sherlock hadn't bristled at the contact, he almost seemed to encourage it. She wondered what it'd be like, running her hands through Sherlock's hair, wondering if it was as soft as it looked.

She cleared her throat and went to perch herself in John's armchair, keeping her eyes on Sherlock. Sherlock, however, didn't seem to notice her.

"I saw the coverage of the Miller case," she said timidly. Sherlock's eyes snapped to her, his fingers curling tighter around the glass.

"Elderly neighbour. Obvious. No one suspects pensioners."

"Except you."

"I observe and deduce. I don't 'suspect'. That's guesswork, I don't guess."

Molly frowned. "No, I mean-"

"I know what you mean."

"Oh."

Sherlock craned his neck to look over at John and Felix, seething when his brother said something that made John laugh. Molly wasn't sure if it was jealousy or simply brotherly loathing; he had the same face whenever Mycroft was merely mentioned. John laughed again; Molly noticed Sherlock's knuckles go white as he tightened his grip on his glass even more.

His attention was dragged away when Mycroft appeared in the doorway. "Go away! You're not invited!"

Mycroft smirked, moving further into the flat. "Felix is invited and I'm not? You'll wound my feelings, Sherlock."

"You don't have any. Now go before you ruin my birthday completely."

John appeared behind Sherlock, curling his fingers around his shoulder. "Stop being childish, Sherlock."

Sherlock pouted, slumping further in his armchair. "Pay attention to me."

"You have my attention all the time. It's one evening."

"It's my birthday!"

"Your birthday was Friday! I paid attention to you all day!"

A barely noticeable smirk appeared on Sherlock's face. "I know…"

"Why didn't you have a party on Friday?" Molly asked.

"Well, we thought we'd spend it just the two of us. Plus the flat was in no fit state for guests."

"More experiments?"

"I was monitoring the rate of decay of a deceased rabbit with the use of maggots," Sherlock muttered, leaning his head against John's arm. Molly grimaced.

"Sounds lovely."

"Especially when he insists on keeping it in the bedroom," John said, glaring down at Sherlock. Molly nodded slowly, glancing around the room as the conversation tapered off. When she looked back at Sherlock, she saw John's fingers playing over his exposed neck, twisting in the curls at the back of his head. Sherlock appeared to like it, his eyelids closing slightly.

"Miss Hooper. Have you been introduced to our brother?"

Molly looked up to see the other Holmes' stood beside the armchairs. She jumped up, flattening down her dress.

"No, I haven't had the pleasure."

Mycroft smirked. "Molly, Felix. Felix, this is Miss Molly Hooper, she works at Saint Barts, in the morgue."

Felix smiled, offering his hand. "Lovely to meet you, Miss Hooper."

His voice was oddly soft, considering Sherlock's baritone which carried through some of the loudest crowds, and Mycroft's obvious charisma. Being the youngest of two dramatic brothers obviously played a part in the gentility of his voice.

"Molly, please."

"Well, Molly, I hear you work with Sherlock from time to time?"

"Yes. I let him use the cadavers for his experiments, let him keep some of the body parts sometimes…"

"Sounds rather… Mary Shelly."

Molly giggled. "I'm sure John would stop him from creating a monster."

"I can't stop him doing anything," John interrupted. Felix chuckled.

"Yes. Sherlock is an unstoppable force."

"Let's hope he never meets an unmovable object, or there'd be Hell to pay," Mycroft muttered, before moving over to talk to Lestrade.

"One would think I'm not in the room the way you're all talking about me," Sherlock grumbled.

"You're usually not," John grinned, rubbing Sherlock's shoulder, his fingers slipping below his shirt. Neither man moved to pull apart. Felix quirked an eyebrow before motioning for Molloy to follow, leading her over to the kitchen.

"May I ask how you put up with my brother? He can't be much fun to have around in any situation!"

Molly laughed nervously. "Oh he's not so bad really."

"I beg to differ. He used me as a human guinea pig for five years of my life."

"Well, uh…"

Felix smiled. "Don't tell me you have a 'soft spot' for him. He's not all cheekbones and mystery. Underneath all that lies a massive twat."

Molly sighed. "Oh, I know."

"Don't waste your time on him, he certainly won't return your affections, and you deserve someone who sees you as more than a free pass to cadavers."

"Oh yeah? Like who?"

"There will be someone, Miss Hooper, I assure you."

Molly frowned down at the drink in her hands. "Why are you saying this? About your brother?"

"I love him, I do, but I'm much more sympathetic than my brothers. I certainly don't like to see people hurt by their actions. John, Gregory, they're both strong; but you strike me as vulnerable where Sherlock's involved."

"I'm not weak!"

"Of course not… But have you ever told Sherlock no?"

"Um…"

Felix smiled, gently touching Molly's arm. "Try it. Tell him no, if just for the look on his face."

"But… he's so cruel."

"He doesn't respect you. You bow to his every whim. Don't. Lestrade, John, they say no to him, they're not afraid to reprimand him. And in doing so they've earnt his respect. You need to do the same."

Molly sighed. "I'm too shy. I can't say no."

"You can. Next time Sherlock asks something of you, say no. Even if it's reasonable, he can't get everything he wants."

Molly nodded, taking a sip of her wine. Felix cleared his throat and changed the subject onto something Molly was more comfortable discussing; their cats.

It wasn't too long until she got to practise standing her ground.

"Molly, get me a drink, will you?"

Molly looked over, Sherlock wasn't even looking at her, too busy enjoying the shoulder rub John seemed to be giving him. She looked to Felix, who nodded at her. "No."

Sherlock's head shot up, eyes wide with shock Molly had actually denied him something. "What?!"

Felix gave Molly a quirk of the lips, squeezing her elbow. She cleared her throat, eager to win back some of her pride.

"I said no. You've got legs."

Sherlock's lips thinned, diverting his glare to Felix. "What did you do?"

Felix shrugged, regarding the liquid in his glass, nonplussed by Sherlock's glare. "I merely told Molly to stand up for herself. She's not your doormat, Sherlock. Treat her with respect."

Everyone in the room had gone silent, looking between Sherlock and his brother. John cleared his throat.

"Okay, boys, let's not fight. Sherlock, they have a point. Get off your arse and get your own drink."

Letting out a petulant sigh, Sherlock pulled himself up and out of his chair, and away from John's hands, dragging himself to the kitchen.

Felix gave Molly another squeeze. "See, don't you feel good?"

"Surprisingly, yeah."

"Good. Without self-respect, there is no respect. Don't let him walk over you, he'll respect you for it."

Molly nodded. "Yes. Okay."

Felix grinned. "Brilliant."

As the evening continued, Molly found herself enjoying Felix's company. They shared a love for cats and both had a morbid sense of humour. Molly told tales of the things that happened in the morgue; Felix was secretive about his job, but shared tales of a childhood growing up with Sherlock.

She almost missed all the little touches between John and Sherlock; John brushing aside a wayward curl from Sherlock's face; Sherlock resting a hand on the small of John's back; a lingering hand on the arm or knee; fingers briefly curling together. Instead she was focused on the little touches she was receiving from Felix. She knew she was probably reading too much into them, but he was being so nice, and they had quite a lot in common.

"Go on! Open it!" Lestrade cheered. Molly glanced over to where Sherlock was stood by the table, a gift in front of him. John, Mycroft, and Mrs Hudson were also stood around.

"No deducing it, just open it," John chastised, bumping his hip against Sherlock's thigh. The detective let out a good natured sigh and began to peel the wrapping away to reveal a boxed dart-board, a photo of Anderson sitting on the top.

"Oh don't encourage him!" John laughed. Lestrade grinned.

"Thought you'd enjoy throwing darts at his face!"

Sherlock smiled. "The real thing would be preferable, but thank you."

"An unprompted thank you, I'd say I've done well!"

John and Sherlock chuckled as Mrs Hudson pushed her present onto the table. Sherlock peeled away the garish paper.

"Those are some good bed-sheets. Soft. Don't ruin them, boys."

John's smirk didn't go amiss by Molly, her eyes narrowing. John suddenly moved away to the far bookcase, standing on his tiptoes to reach another wrapped box. He grinned at Sherlock.

"I know you already got my present, but I saw this and decided you needed it!"

Sherlock smiled, tearing away the paper, revealing the game of Operation. Lestrade cheered, Sherlock, John, and Mrs Hudson laughed.

"Thank you, John."

"We can play it later."

Sherlock's hand curled around John's waist, as he ducked his head John looked up, their lips brushing together, eyes fluttering closed. Mrs Hudson let out a happy "oh", her hands clapping together.

Molly frowned, averting her eyes from the couple. "Oh."

Felix eyed her suspiciously. "You didn't know?"

"About them being together? No."

"They got together during their case in Prague two months ago. Still very much in the honeymoon stage, but not very much into public displays of affection."

"Oh, well… I'm happy for them."

Felix frowned. "You'll get over him, I promise."

"You can't promise something like that, it'll never come true."

"Of course it will. Don't gauge your happiness on relationships, Molly, or you'll never be happy."

Molly scowled. "You're saying I'll never find anyone!"

"No, I'm saying, if you search for the perfect relationship you'll never find it. You'll pick holes in every relationship you have. Every man could always be a little more, or a little less… Just… learn to be happy by yourself, and find someone who improves your existence, and doesn't define it."

Molly stared at Felix, just able to make out her reflection in his glasses. "That's… good advice!"

Felix smiled. "Thank you. It's something I live by."

Molly managed a smile of her own, blushing, averting her eyes down to her feet. She could hear Lestrade jeering at Sherlock, asking if he snogged everyone who gave him presents.

"I don't think they world's ready for Sherlock to be 'snogging' anyone," Mycroft muttered. John chuckled.

"Except for myself, I hope."

"Don't worry, John. You were my first kiss, and intend for you to be last."

"Surely not!" Mrs Hudson exclaimed. "Attractive man like you!"

"But a massive prat. No one wants to kiss a know-it-all," Mycroft sneered. Sherlock sneered back.

"I suppose it's hard for anyone to kiss you when you're constantly stuffing your face with cake!"

"All right, boys, you're both prats, stop arguing," John snapped. Mycroft rolled his eyes, hooking his umbrella on his arm and made his way to the kitchen, pausing in front of Molly and Felix. He forced a smile, gently touching Molly's arm.

"You're much better off without my brother, Miss Hooper. You'd do better to find a man closer your level of maturity," he said, before moving to the counter where the drinks were. Molly looked up at Felix, wide-eyed.

"Does everyone know?"

Felix smiled sheepishly. "I'm afraid so. You don't have to be a genius detective to figure it out; you do make it frighteningly obvious. One only has to be in the room with the two of you for a few moments."

"So all those sad looks people gave me," Molly frowned. "They knew. They knew I like him and he never liked me back."

"Move on, Molly, don't let him claim permanent residence in your mind."

"I feel so pathetic."

"It's okay. Everyone has to face the perils of unrequited love at some point. Even Sherlock."

Molly drained her glass, reaching behind her for the bottle to refill it. "Even you?"

"Of course. I am human."

"I don't know," Molly sighed.

"You just need something to take your mind off it."

"I suppose." Molly looked back over to where the others were gathered to see Sherlock and John with their arms wrapped around each other, holding the other as close as possible, gently rocking back and forth, happy smiles on their faces.

It was Molly's day off; she curled up on her couch, Toby her ginger cat curled on her lap. She had her phone in hand, staring at it, Felix's number on screen as she tried to work up the courage to text him. She didn't want to text him something as plebeian as "hey, how're you," but she also didn't want to text something so unique it'd scare him off. Ever since the party, Sherlock had been the last thing on her mind. Felix had taken over. He was handsome, charming, funny, and wasn't cruel to her. She liked him. A lot.

She finally managed to type a quick text, pressing 'send' before she could talk herself out of it.

"Thanks for sticking with me the other night. I needed a good pep talk."

She threw her phone to the other end of the sofa, terrified of what his response could be. She scratched Toby between the ears until he purred, smiling at how eager he was to receive affection. She heard a low hum, that definitely wasn't a purr. Cautiously grabbing her phone, Molly unlocked it. Felix had text back. Molly took a deep breath, thumb hovering over the "read" button.

"Okay Moll. If he doesn't tell you to stuff it, it's gone well."

She pressed the button.

"It was my pleasure. Family get-togethers are certainly not my 'thing', I'm glad I had someone to share the tedious experience with."

Molly couldn't help the little squeal that escaped as she read. Felix hadn't even said anything substantial. It took her a few moments to think of something to respond with.

"I don't blame you. Holmes get-togethers must be exhausting. I think I feel sorry for John and what he's gotten himself into."

Felix's response was quite hasty, Molly couldn't help the fluttering in her stomach, she had high hopes.

"As do I. Although from what I understand, John is quite an extraordinary person. I'm sure if anyone can handle my family, it's him. He and Sherlock are quite suitably matched."

"So how come you don't see much of your family? You never said."

"Well, 1: I don't particularly want to. and 2: My job. I never said because I can't really discuss my job. I work for the government, that's all I can say without putting either of us at risk."

"Sounds exciting!"

"Oh quite! Never a dull moment in my life."

"So what do you do when you're tired of all the excitement?"

"I go home, make a cup of tea, put on one of my boxsets and play with Oscar."

Molly grinned; she remembered Felix telling her about Oscar, how the tabby cat had been found as a newborn rejected by his mother and that Felix had raised it by himself. He'd even shown her several pictures of the cat.

"I've got Toby on my knee right now, a bit annoyed I'm not paying complete attention to him."

"Poor fellow, I can't imagine how terrible it must feel to not have your attention. Perhaps you should give him a scratch."

"I'll give him a good scratch from you."

"See that you do. I can't wait to meet him."

A nervous giggle erupted from Molly; Toby gave her a curious look, his tail swishing against her chest. She went to reply, but her phone vibrated again.

"Apologies, Molly, but I've got some serious work to do. I shall text you back when I return home. Be safe. x"

Sighing, Molly put her phone on the arm of the sofa. She'd been excited texting Felix, she could actually feel her pulse racing. She couldn't remember ever feeling this way with Sherlock, probably because he'd been a complete arse from the very beginning.

She thought about Sherlock. Her heart didn't skip a beat at the thought of him any more, she hope she really was over him. She'd yet to see him at Saint Bart's, but she knew seeing him and John together would help her with her closure, especially with Felix on the horizon. The kiss at the end of the text had to have meant something, you didn't send kisses to just anyone.

Felix didn't text again that night. Or the following day. The day after that she was working in the labs when Sherlock and John burst in. Sherlock ignored her in favour of rushing over to his favourite microscope and pulling something from his pocket, placing it under the lens. John hovered by the door, hands in his pockets. He smiled at Molly.

"Morning."

"Hello, John."

"How're you?"

"Oh fine. I'm just analysing the fungus I found between Mrs Pike's toes… And you?"

"As good as can be. Sherlock got a new case this morning. A nine!"

Molly smiled, she remembered Sherlock explaining his scale to her. "Exciting."

"Yeah. Any minute now he'll have the answer and I'll have to chase him across London."

A phone went off; Molly dived for hers on the other side of the table.

"It was mine," Sherlock said. "John, would you be so kind?"

John sighed, walking over to Sherlock. "Where is it?"

"Trouser pocket?"

"Is it actually or is this your crude way of making me touch you up?"

Sherlock looked up from his microscope, smirking wickedly at John. "I'd hardly fake a text to make you grope me, John. And you hardly need any encouragement."

John blushed, reaching into Sherlock's pocket and pulled out his phone, pushing it into the detective's hand. Molly frowned, looking from the couple down to her blank phone. She'd resigned herself to the fact that Felix wasn't going to text back.

"My brother is quite busy at the moment," Sherlock said, not looking up from his phone. Molly's head snapped up.

"Excuse me?"

"Felix. He's busy. He can't reply to your texts."

"Who said I was-"

"You haven't met anyone new since my birthday other than Felix, and by the way you were looking at him it's obvious you're attracted to him. He gave you his number. You texted back and forth but it's been a few days; you're getting nervous, a little depressed, you're doubting he's interested in you — he's not, by the way — but I thought you'd like to know he's busy working."

Molly scowled. "You're wrong."

"Molly, my brother works for MI-6, in quite a substantial position. He's working an important mission. He hasn't been home in three days."

"How could you possibly-"

"We're on cat-sitting duty," John smiled. Sherlock seethed.

"Yes. John's attempts to reconnect me with my family means there's a bloody cat in my home!"

"I'll look after Oscar! I don't mind!"

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "Very well."

John stared between the two, eyes wide and mouth agape. "Really?! Sherlock, you can't just give away your brother's cat!"

"It's Molly. She'll tell Felix she's got him. Clearly a ploy on her part to get him to her flat but I'm not going to interfere."

Molly cleared her throat awkwardly, trying to ignore Sherlock's little snide remarks; it wasn't a ploy to get Felix round, it was a good opportunity — if Oscar was at Molly's, Felix would have a good reason to go over to hers. She tried not to dwell on the thought, the more she thought the creepier and weirder it sounded. "So… He works for MI-6?"

Sherlock sighed, waving his hand in John's face. John rolled his eyes, sitting down on the stool closest to Molly.

"That's pretty much all you're allowed to know. It's all very hush-hush, y'know? But yeah… Sherlock's brother works for the secret service. Not spying or anything, I think he's in tech or something? He was very vague on the details."

Molly nodded, eyes wide with fascination. "So who does know?"

"Sherlock knows more than me. But I think Mycroft's the only one who knows the full extent of Felix's job, him being the government and all…"

"Is it dangerous, do you think?"

"Oh God yeah! I've been told it's pretty much exactly like the movies. Not as high-tech and stuff, but dangerous, definitely!"

Molly frowned. "I hope he's okay…"

Sherlock let out a loud huff. "He's fine! He has a slew of agents looking after his well-being, and that's not even to mention any and all of Mycroft's meddling! Felix is safe! Can we stop discussing my brother?!"

John grinned. "Jealous you're not the centre of attention?"

"Hardly. I just prefer to work in peace."

"You're jealous."

"John, please, do stop being juvenile."

John chuckled and winked at Molly, shuffling back over to Sherlock's side. Molly smiled meekly, turning back to her own work, trying to imagine what Felix was doing, wondering if he thought about her at all.