Title: Around Midnight

Author: G.G. Halcyon

Fandom: Sherlock

Pairing: Molly/Mycroft

Rating: M

Warning: Explicit adult themes

Publish: 2014


CHAPTER TWO: THE PROSPECTS

The moment they came to the group of people, Molly already dreaded allowing her mother to drag her into this. She didn't need to guess that this very moment was carefully crafted by her mother alone, and that she should have known it was bound to happen. A sense of dread came about Molly, when she realized that her brother—whom he spoke to in what she believe was in confidence—probably informed her mother of the outcome of her and Devin. Molly only prayed that Amelia didn't take it upon herself to notify all her friends about her current relationship status: Molly Hooper, NON-ENGAGED, SINGLE...UN-MARRIED, OVER-THIRTY.

She wanted to run away so badly from the situation that she felt a sense of anxiety kick in. I hate this, I hate this, I hate this. The mantra continued in her mind, as she forced herself to keep her smile and keep her hands from shaking as she mother took her by the arm gently and introduced her to her friends.

"I've heard so many great things about you! You look just like Amelia!" a woman who introduced herself as Betsy gave her a hug and quick peck on the cheek. She was a woman in her late 60s who still dyed her hair blond in hopes of looking younger. Her face was thin and pale, and the bright fire engine red lipstick she wore only aged her more. She work a purple chiffon dressed that fell on her skinny figure like a sheet; her hands were littered in rings and jewelry. Somehow Molly noted the ring finger devoid of any of the gaudy rings she wore. Great, I'm looking at my future. She shook herself from the negative thought and stretched her smile.

"Nice to meet you!" She greeted the four women, ignoring their observing eyes.

The only recognizable woman was Mrs. Laferty, who hugged her immediately and pecked her on the cheek.

"Why Molly, you look lovely as always!"

"Thank you, Mrs. Laferty."

"So, you're the pathologist we've been hearing about!" A woman named Mary Anne started, "How was America during your studies there?"

"Oh, it was not bad at all. I was actually doing some research and teaching there for a few years."

Amelia chided in, "She worked in the best children's hospital in America!"

"Children's hospital? So you're a pediatrician, then?"

Molly was glad the discussion did not go to marriage, future, and her relationship. She didn't mind answering questions about her studies. "I did research there, and did pathology and diagnosis."

"Oh, what exactly was your role?"

"Well, I did post mortem work for the hospital; and assisted in diseases and illness research that effect children."

"So you…uhm…deal with the children when they pass on?" Molly nodded her head, and noted Amelia almost paling. Perhaps this wasn't the conversation she was hoping to go down especially when trying to sell her daughter's qualities.

"How morbid, my dear! What on earth would make a young woman want to go that path?" She heard someone whisper in the background.

"It was just something I umm…fell into."

"Oh, I'm sure the reasoning for such a change in studies was because of that charming American man I heard you were with!"

"Oh yes, what was his name again?" Of course Beatrice would continue on the discussion, ignoring any sign of unease that emanated from Molly.

Molly couldn't speak, as she heard her mother answer. "Devin was his name," Amelia's eyes studied Molly's carefully, answering the question Molly had in her mind right away. Georgie definitely informed Amelia about the breakup. Amelia confirms this further as she tried to change the topic to the brand of sherry being passed around, but her group of women friends seemed far too interested in learning more about Molly. To gossip, perhaps, Molly thought bitterly. Her eyes darted around her in hopes to find her brother or sister in law close by so that she could go to them for escape, but only found other strangers around her. She didn't want to be rude and run off, and her mother's gentle hold on her arm didn't help her either with her plans of escape.

Molly decided to placate the women and didn't want to appear rude. The last thing she needed was to be the talk of the party or for word to spread how the eldest Hooper sibling was truly a bitter old hag who couldn't even hold a decent conversation. For the sake of her mother's reputation and also her wedding celebration, Molly decided to pull it out of herself to be as social as she could force herself. This of course simply meant answering the questions of prying old book club ladies, who in turn would use said information to match her with their own bachelor children—most of whom Molly could already tell from her observations of the women, would be horrid partners to begin with.

Molly grabbed a glass of sherry from a passing waiter all too quickly. She needed to numb herself again as she felt she had become tolerant of the alcohol she consumed. Somehow she found liquor assisted in keeping her anxiety at bay.

"Devin… " Molly began, trying to numb the bitter feeling rising from her chest. She didn't want to think of him, but perhaps this was fair practice for when her family and friends (most of whom were all in the United States) would be told of her broken engagement, which not many people knew about. "he was uhm…the doctor who I was assisting in the United States. His research made me very interested in switching my focus."

"I heard you two were a couple, my dear."

"No, not at all!" Molly immediately said, then steadied herself, "We never were," she lied, "we were research partners."

She thought of the three years of her life she felt she wasted with Devin, the man she thought she loved and loved her in return. She had planned, not too long ago, to arrive home with a man in her arms, and an engagement ring and the proclamation that Spinster Molly no longer existed. But instead, three months ago, after she completed her research with the plans of moving back to London with her fiancé, he had informed her of his breakthrough in his research and the fact that he would stay in America. She replayed their exchange in her head as if it was yesterday—

"Molly, I've gotten tenure at UPenn!"

"That's great, Devin!" She jumped into his arms to hug him, only to feel his hands limp around her. Something was wrong. She looked into his eyes, and found no happiness there. "What's wrong, sweetie?"

"I …there's something I need us to talk about."

She remembered the transition with pain in her heart, but most importantly his final words. "I need to focus on my research—this can really change lives and I can't be filled with worry or concern about anyone else."

"What do you mean?"

"This relationship—I don't think I can be present 100% especially with these big changes. I can't move to London with you—I've decline the offer at Brighton University for this UPenn position."

"….I can stay here with you, I can find a job here full time!"

"It's not just that, Molly, it's just I can't devote myself into this relationship like before. I love you, but I think maybe we're rushing into this marriage thing too soon too."

"Devin…what…are you saying? We're breaking up? Three years let go like that?"

"No, Molly, it's just I think we need a break. A break until I find out where I am myself. We can't get married if I—if we—don't have a solid idea of where our lives are heading. I mean you have your research, you just got into pathology—I have mine….."

She had punched him; surprised that her fist got carried away to do so. The force of the punch was hard enough that it left Devin with a black eye; and she was grateful that he was man enough not to hit her back, but instead simply walked away from her and slammed the door behind her.

A week later he was already out of their apartment, all his belongings were gone as if he was never there before. The place they called their home for the past two years reverted back to the empty shell that had originally been Molly's apartment. Molly finished her research and published her paper; grateful that she could always reschedule her lab time when Devin was not present. She and he found ways not to see each other; and Molly was numb to the situation, to the pain. A month later, Molly decided that America wasn't for her, she had to get away; too many of her close friends knew Devin and herself and the magnitude of their shared circles was so great that she could never really avoid him. In addition, she no longer found a reason to stay in a foreign country where she felt she no longer had a future. A few universities offered her jobs to teach and do research, but she declined them all and settled for a position at Bart's. It was the fastest job she ever applied for and received, and it was the closest that she'd allow herself to be near her family. And so she headed back home—alone, single—spinster Molly.

"You know, my Molly is published!" Amelia's exclamation brought her out of her misery. She had not realized that she had been quiet all this time as everyone around her chattered; it shifted the interest of the women, and Molly felt like hugging her mother in thanks. She really didn't feel like explaining her failed relationship or broken engagement; she was lucky enough that the engagement was so short lived that no one really knew of it. The gods were watching her, Molly thought.

"Published where exactly?" Someone asked; Molly opened her mouth to answer.

"The Standford University Journal!" Amelia beamed. "Her research actually was published, and it is a big deal—"

"That's brilliant Molly," they praised her, and Molly simply smiles. She finds herself eyeing another glass of sherry, but stops herself as she realized she has yet to finish the one she is holding in her hands.

Mary Anne cleared her throat to gather everyone's attention, "My Arthur is published as well," she adds, her nose raised as if to begin her comparison. Molly is already sensing that sooner that evening Arthur would be the first prospect selected. Molly needed to get out of there—quick—before it was too late and she was forced to come face to face with Bertrice's son Arthur. He was a 38 year old financial analyst—boring as a doorknob, not that she wasn't so boring herself—but she was prepared to not see him again and have it turn into a replay of their previous encounters in the past years. Most importantly, she had no interest in hearing her mother and her friends compare their children's accomplishments or lack of with one another, especially when she knew that she would be a major topic of the discussion.

"Excuse me, I'm going to get some fresh air," Molly said as politely as she could without rousing suspicion. Amelia looked at her with concern in her eyes, and again her motherly gaze studied her carefully.

"Molly, sweetheart, you look a little flush. Do you want me to go out there with you?"

"Oh…uhmm, no, no. Please don't worry yourself, I'll step out and check up on Georgie while I'm at it. He's probably still out there in the lawn area."

"All right, dear."

Molly bid her goodbyes to the small group of women, as she feigned heading out the door. She was not going to check on Georgie at all, nor did she want to speak with any of the other guest, and least of all her new father in law.

/

/

/

Molly managed to sneak up the stairs, without her mother and her friends noticing, and headed to the second floor, where she was sure no guests would be. It was after all very clear that the music was to begin shortly for the dancing and socializing part of the reception. She didn't care about it at all. She wanted to be alone, to sober up until she was able to drive herself back to her hotel and sleep in peace. In the mean time, she needed to be left alone with her thoughts, to wallow in the bitterness and the rid of the what and could have bins with Devin, or the sad reality that she was indeed in her 30s and was still unmarried, with no boyfriend, no fiancé, and slowly accepting the harsh truth that she would forever be single. She could see it now, her nieces and nephews acknowledging her as a 'sweet nice auntie, who had way too many cats' –just like Aunt Beatrice. Molly ran a hand through her blond hair, ruffing the perfect curls that were once in place. It didn't matter, she thought, she could care less about how she looked at this point. No one would notice, and she didn't care.

She stopped her way up the second set of stairs heading to the second floor, and stopped as she saw a few guests walking down the hall way. She couldn't stay on the second floor, it was probable someone would find her there, or she'd crash into some guests aka complete strangers who she would be forced to talk to. She didn't want to talk. She wanted to be alone. Spinster Molly.

She finished the remaining of her sherry and sat the empty glass on a lamp stand next to the 3rd flight of stairs heading to the 3rd floor. She took off her heals and carried them in her hand—the heals hurt her feet and she wondered why she even agreed to being placed in such torture—and tiptoed—more like stumped—here way up the third floor. She ignored the sign stating that it was off limits to guests, and trudged along up the stairs slowly, noting that there were no lights on.

Molly Hooper needed to be left alone.

She didn't want to pretend to be okay—instead she would rather be alone with her thoughts. A part of her wished that she had told Bart's that she was willing to start as soon as a possible, instead of informing them that she had to postpone her start date for work to one week because of her mother's wedding.

She wished that she was in the confines of her 'office', alone with the nonjudgmental silence of the dead.

Now she was stuck hiding from everyone around her.

TBC