Details in the Fabric

Calm down
Deep breaths
And get yourself dressed instead
Of running around
And pulling on your threads
And breaking yourself up

No one had seen Molly in over a week. John had dropped by her flat but she refused to open the door and Sherlock had sent several texts trying to get her to call her impromptu holiday from work short because he need parts from the morgue, and oh yes, he wanted to make sure she was okay. She'd not replied to most of them, and the ones she did reply to were curt and to the point.
So they knew she was alive and hadn't done anything stupid. They also knew she was in her flat so she was safe. The way they saw it was there wasn't much else they could do besides wait her out and keep popping back to check on her.

That night she'd left Mycroft's she'd gone straight back to the Christmas Party to find John. If anyone could help her understand what had just happened with the elder Holmes it was him. Well, probably Sherlock but his attitude wasn't something she could deal with right now, she needed warmth. She could get cold hard facts later if she was feeling up to it. As it happens though when she finally arrived back at Baker, Sherlock wasn't there. The party had all but finished when their little domestic had broken out; after having to clean Greg up and send to John's room to sleep off his head ache and Mycroft and Molly leaving, and then with Sherlock leaving shortly after, well.. There wasn't much of a party left. Mrs Hudson helped clean up the glasses and set the room right and then she gave John a small smile and a peck on the cheek before going down to her flat. Molly and John stood in the living room for what felt like hours while he gave her a hug and whispered small reassuring things to her.
If only she could bring herself to fall for John instead. Good, steady John. Shame she only really had a thing for sociopaths and control freaks.

Once she'd settled down and managed to stop the tears John lead her into the kitchen and made her a cup of english cure, tea that is. He held her hand as she regaled the latest episode in the Molly and Mycroft saga, she left out a few of the more intimate details but concluded that the chauvinistic brute had lost his cool because he had a drink and he was a jealous sod.

"John, just how can we make it work if he can't trust me?" She sniffed and he handed her one of the tissues he'd sorted out from the random third kitchen drawer to the left. She wiped her face, "He'd say, if he wasn't so wound up, that it wasn't a trust issue, that he just wants to keep me safe, but Christ John! It was mistletoe and Greg."

He gave her hand a squeeze and half smiled, "He's not like normal guys, Mol'. But, to be honest, and this isn't me excusing him here, any guy might have blown up a little at Greg - he really did take it too far, drunk or not."

"I could of handled it though, and it's not like Greg throwing himself at me like that made me go 'oh that's a good idea! Let's drop Mycroft for a drunken fumble with a Detective!' And then when we got back he blamed me! He was mad at me!"

"Male pride there - even the Holmes, in fact especially the Holmes boys are guilty of that… He defended what was his and instead of being praised he was scolded." John sipped his tea and watched Molly narrow her eyes at her own, "I'm not saying it's right, I'm not saying what happened next is either. I'm just explaining that Mycroft and Sherlock, they're both guilty of forgetting their human and when things like this come up, well, they just sorta, flail?"

She didn't respond for some time. She clutched her mug and John sat stroking her hand while she mulled it all over. Just then a noise had them both glancing through the kitchen door and down the hallway. Greg wandered in holding his head and his jacket draped over his arm.

"Christ mate, do you got any paracetamol? I'm a wreck." He spotted Molly at tablet, who ducked her head. He swallowed and ran his tongue around the inside of his cheek. "Listen, Mol', I'm sorry- about early I mean. I, wasn't thinking an'..." He sighed and she sniffed, and brought her head up ever so slightly. "If Mycroft's gave you any grief over it all I'll talk to him, I was outta line."

"No," She said a little too quickly, but that's exactly what this situation didn't need right now -Mycroft knows how to hide a body. "It's alright Greg, it was just a misunderstanding that's all."

Greg opened his mouth to reply but seemed to think better of what he was about to say and muttered, "Yeah.. a misunderstanding." John handed him the tablets and Greg told them he'd sort a taxi out once he'd cleared his head and left.

"So, I wasn't going to point this out early but seeing as…. Molly, Greg came on real strong while your boyfriend," She cringed, "Fine, lover, partner, whatever. Watched. And because he was drunk you've dismissed it… because he was drunk, right?" She gave a slight nod and he continued, "So What's the difference when it comes to Mycroft? He was blotto and lost his temper when his girlfriend -ah yes, girlfriend was assaulted by a drunken friend…"

"It's the way it was handled John, Greg didn't try to justify his behaviour or say I'd brought it on myself. He apologised and accepted it for what it was, a drunken mistake, but Mycroft… John, he was cruel." John squeezed her hand again. "Okay Mol' its okay."

If it's a broken part, replace it
If it's a broken arm, then brace it
If it's a broken heart, then face it

Molly now sat on her sofa, stroking Toby idly as he slept on her lap. She'd not really functioned in over a week. Showered and then put her Pj's back on was all she'd managed - thank god for ordering groceries online because Toby wouldn't have appreciated her self imprisonment otherwise. She'd ordered in most nights and not eaten most days. She'd been on social media but ignored all attempts at contact. She'd rang work claiming she was sick and booked last minute annual leave to cover it - another two weeks roughly before she had to go back to the outside world.

She'd been dumped in the past, though she'd had a spectacularly bland life, so she knew what breakups were and what usually happened and how sometimes one side can be a mess while the other functions like nothing has happened or they can chase each other and make the splitting up hard or they slowly but surely stop checking in with each other so it doesn't come as a surprise. And having been in an on-off relationship with Mycroft for almost two years she thought she knew how this would play out this time; being his fault and all.
Usually, she'd receive a barrage of phone calls or texts to ensure she had gotten home okay and he'd inform he'd give her a few days space. Then, a few days later, he would send flowers to her wherever she happened to be and then she'd call him and arrange to talk. 'Talk' had actually became another word for 'Ignore the cause of the issue and have sex' but the next day everything would be as it was and they'd carry on as normal.

But not this time. Not so much as a tweet from him. When he didn't follow her out the door she knew it was bad but no follow up contact… Well, her heart ached. She knew deep down that it was a mess and the way it was going was never going to lead to a healthy developed relationship if things didn't change but for the first time in her life Molly had thrown caution to the wind and decide to try out the unpredictable and messy relationship she would normally have given a wide birth too, and boy was she kicking herself now. She had never known hurt like it. How can someone fall so in love with something that is so bad for them? It it some psychological issue of self worth? Or maybe a self destructive streak? Lord knows if she'd ever figure it out but she knew right now if he called her she'd probably answer. Even if it was another argument at least she'd still feel like she had him.

She needed to get away. She needed time to clear her head and decide what she could do with this situation.

Hold your own
Know your name
And go your own way
And everything will be fine

Mycroft liked to keep dips on everything and everyone and that extended heavily to things he considered his. His brother, for example, was under constant surveillance. Nothing so as it would prevent Sherlock from doing what he pleased but enough that Mycroft knew his every move and where to find him whenever he wished. And this eventually covered Molly too, so now she knew that her flat was probably bugged - at least the windows and doors. And that an agent was usually following her from a safe distance to and from work, if Mycroft hadn't sent the car or she was meeting friends. She wondered if this was still employed even now? Had he been checking out for her, had he got an agent constantly positioned by her door to make sure she didn't leave without him knowing? Maybe Sherlock was keeping him informed too - though she doubted that, causing Mycroft grief was a favourite pass time for him.

With all this in mind Molly tried to devise away to leave London for a bit, just a short break away from everything and cameras, and jealous boyfriends and try to get some fresh air without Mycroft keeping dibs on her. If he was, that is.

She sent Mary a text and asked her to send a parcel to her, first class and explained she wanted a break but without being followed. It would have been easier to ask her to drop it in person but the second anyone saw Mary at her house Mycroft would put 2 and 2 together and land all the planes in England just so as to catch up with her.

'I can get the parcel to you - I'm letting the boys know you're alright though and just taking a holiday. You've borrowed a few bikinis. MW x'

'Thanks Mary x but I'd rather Mycroft didn't know… MH x

'Honey, if he knows it'll be because your phone is bugged - Sherlock will hold this until the perfect moment i'm sure. MW x'

Molly paused. She hadn't thought of that! She closed her eyes and shook her head. Well it's too late now to retract any of this, but this is all going on the fact he's monitoring her and if he isn't well, then that's great.

A few hours later Molly came out of the shower to find a parcel resting on her bed with a note on top saying simply ''M x'.

God knows how Mary managed it but she couldn't have been more excited! With that she spent the next few hours packing her suitcase - enough for a week without a washer she imagined. She popped open the box and found in there 2 passports, both with brown hair and a mousey likeness, and an array of wigs. She frowned just as a text came through;

'In order to go away you need to leave the flat ;) MW x'

Molly laughed to herself and picked up the curly grey wig - Mary thought of everything.

Hang on
Help is on the way
And stay strong
I'm doing everything

'I've got here fine. See you in a week x MH x'

'Thanks for letting us know, wasn't sure you'd make it - flights have been cancelled. Hope the break does you good! Will we ever know where you've gone? :) John x'

'One day maybe? ;) Thank Mary for her bikinis too! MH x'

Molly was sat on a bench at the top of the hill next the quaint Church of Saint Mary. She looked over the ocean and over the small town and took a deep breath. Mycroft may have been able to stop planes but she didn't need a plane to go to Whitby, she smiled. She felt a little pang of guilt when she considered that she'd lead Mary, John and Sherlock to believing she was off abroad when reality she had just headed north. But, it made no real difference she supposed, it did just mean that any interference they may have come up has been mitigated nicely.

The wind whipped round and she pulled her coat and scarf tighter to her body. Though the sun was out, winter winds were definitely ever present. She had chosen to stay in a hostel, a youth hostel just behind the Abbey, she thought the more low key she stays the harder again it would be to trace her and in the end she did use Mary's passport. For the duration of the trip she was Mrs Ashworth and a friend had paid for her holiday as a Christmas present, not that the hostel minded who paid as long as she did. While she wandered through Whitby town she mulled over what everyone would be up to - by now Mycroft knew that she had disappeared from her flat and she wondered how close he had come to locating her.

Mycroft could kill someone. Not the assassination sort of way, but in the bare hands around someone's neck sort of way. A week it had been since he and Molly had broken up and a week in which he hadn't slept well, hadn't eaten much and hadn't stopped working. He'd kept tabs on her flat and knew she hadn't moved for days but he had reports that food had been delivered to her home. Sherlock, despite his tendency to aggravate his brother, had been surprisingly supportive- no that wasn't quite the right word, he'd made digs and been tactless constantly but he had made sure he was constantly around to do it. Sherlock had turned up at Mycroft's home and work randomly and kept him busy, annoyed or both. The younger Holmes had also kept him relatively up to date with any new information about Molly if and when he or John got any. Mycroft never responded when he did it but he catalogued it away and marked the information under 'safe and well.'

So when the news came that two days ago Molly had asked for one of Mary's bikinis Mycroft fumed. "Two days? Sherlock, you've known for two days that Molly might be leaving the country, incognito no less, and you've failed to mention it?!"

Sherlock's eyebrows went up, "She isn't a child, brother mine. She is entitled to a random break away from London, the UK.. you." Mycroft's jaw tensed and nostrils flared, "And, surely, with such a thorough watch you'd have seen her leaving with a suitcase and monitored her from there?" But by this point Mycroft had stopped listening, he was tapping away at his phone and then his keyboard, the phone rang and he merely picked up and listened. Sherlock could hear Anthea stating no one matching Molly's description had left the flats and her passport hadn't been flagged at any airports, but one scan of the building from a well placed window cleaner had just told her that her flat was empty and Toby was two doors down with an elderly neighbour. "And who said incognito?"

Mycroft gave him a withered look, "If Molly has asked Mary for help, which she has and she has managed to leave the flat without my knowledge, which she has, then no doubt she has had substantial preparation for this and will have used one Mary's passports or resources to get a new passport." He rubbed his temples for a moment and rested his head in his hands.

"Brother dear, why do you care? I thought it was over-"

"It is over-"

"Then Molly taking a break isn't a big deal and you have no say in it. You're overreacting, as usual, and this is exactly the reason she left you." Sherlock offered nonchalantly from his position of the office chair opposite Mycroft's desk. "Besides, she's alone, so no reason to be jealous."

Big Brother's head shot up, "Where is she?"

"What?"

"You said she's alone, not that she's probably alone or you assume she's alone. You know where she is Sherlock. Tell me, now. This isn't a game!" The vein on Mycroft's temple throbbed and his breathing was heavy as Sherlock looked him over.

"I do know where she was headed. But I shan't tell you." With that Mycroft picked up the phone and snapped at Anthea, "Land the planes." "All of them!" "I don't care how, or what excuse you use just get it done. Let me know if you find her." Sherlock laughed and smirked from his seat, oh how droll he found the whole thing. His poor brother being put through his paces by a tiny pathologist.

Are the details in the fabric
Are the things that make you panic
Are your thoughts results of static cling?
Are the things that make you blow
Hell, no reason, go on and scream
If you're shocked it's just the fault
Of faulty manufacturing.

"Sherlock, if you do not know for a fact that Molly Hooper is safe and well then I suggest you leave this office very quickly and go make sure of." He ground it out through gritted teeth. If he couldn't keep his eye on her at this very second and his oh so wonderful baby brother was doing his best to keep it from him then the least he could do is to ensure, personally, that she was okay.

His brother regarded him for a few moments, a neutral expression on his face. "I'll keep you posted." And he left with a wink. Mycroft blew out all the air in his lungs and gritted his teeth, God help Sherlock if anything has happened to her. The bane of his existence popped his head back in the door, "Oh, and get those planes moving again. Ciao!"

Anthea had the planes moving again in record time and decided to head into the office to check on Mycroft and his sanity. "Sir?"

"Have Sherlock followed." He didn't look up from his papers.

"Already done, Sir. As always. Also, you'll be receiving a phone call shortly - the PM and his band of nitwits want an official reason as to why all aircrafts were being told to land just now."

He glanced up at that and sighed, an eyebrow quirked up, "Intel on fake passports being used for travel, concern for national security and you know the rest of how that goes." He waved his hand limply as if to cast the problem aside. "I want constant updates on where Sherlock has headed if he leaves London."

"Danger night, sir?" Anthea tapped into her BlackBerry

"No." He paused, "He knows where Miss Hooper is and is going to check on her." He continued to tap on his laptop as she lifted her eyes from her phone.

"Very good, sir." She eyed him for a sign of mood but he had completely clamped down. "Your next meeting starts in 10 minutes." They both made their way out of the office and into the board meeting with the PM and his team. Mycroft gracefully navigated the conversation with ease, explaining that his choices were in the best interest of the country and any delays or disruptions were entirely necessary. A shark smile accompanied his explanation and no one dared challenge it. The meeting moved onto other topics and he offered off hand informed comments while continual checking his phone. "Are we keeping you from something, Mr Holmes?" An elderly member asked snidely, "If you're too busy-" Anthea's phone rang and she gave him a small nod.

"As it happens-" He stood and nodded to the PM, "Apologies my good fellows, a rather delicate matter has come to light, Anthea will rearrange the meeting for any topics that can not be addressed without me." And with that they were off through the door.

"If you don't mind me saying Sir, you're going to have a lot of explaining to do when you get this matter resolved." She had glanced back and saw the PM shaking his head.

"If this goes well Anthea I will be hard pressed to care." He mumbled under his breath as he climbed into the car.

When they reached the airfield he climbed into the helicopter and put on his head set and was surprised to see Sherlock climbing in after him. "Hello Brother mine! This will be much quicker! Destination: Whitby!"

Mycroft glared at his brother but was thankful that he finally had a location, "I thought it was supposed to be a secret?" He scoffed.

"It still is, I suppose. She doesn't know I know where she is, and she certainly doesn't know you know where she is. So there's a secret there somewhere." Sherlock gave a wide smile and settled back for the flight.

Are the details in the fabric (Hold your own, know your name)
Are the things that make you panic (Go your own way)
Is it Mother Nature's sewing machine?

Molly was sitting inside the church reading a book, hidden away at the back enjoying the peace and quiet of the small building. She turned a page and snuggled deeper into her coat and sighed. This is exactly what she needed. After a few more pages she became aware of a low hum coming from outside, like a low aircraft. Nothing unusual there really, some had flown overhead in the past few days. But this one sounded a lot closer like it was landing rather than going on. She placed a bookmark she had purchased from the desk inside the book and made her way to the doors.

To her surprise a helicopter was landing on the beach in the distance. She watched a little longer, enjoying the cold sun and saw figures emerging. After a pause she screwed her eyes up and looked closer - oh she'd know that coat anywhere! God damn it, Sherlock!

Well that break was over a lot sooner than she'd planned for! She growled in frustration and head back the hostel. It would only be a matter of time before he deduced where she was hiding, staying.

Sherlock ruffled his hair and took off into the town. Anthea and Mycroft kept up with his pace as he muttered deductions to himself. "No ideas Mycroft?" He asked pleasantly after the fifth sigh from his big brother.

"You know as well as I do that given current circumstance your deductions here will possibly be more fruitful than mine. You at least have been in touch with her briefly over the last week and knew she was going away. You probably know exactly why, and that means you'll be able to deduce where." Mycroft's pinched face snapped this words whilst continuously searching crowded spaces for her face. A gleeful Sherlock practically bounded and skipped through the tight streets and then spotted the church on top of the hill. He narrowed his eyes and made for that direction.

Once they reached the Abbey they stood for a moment in the courtyard. Sherlock pulled out a smoke and handed one to Mycroft. "Best make the most of it, she's not a fan." Anthea declined after Sherlock pushed one in her direction and pulled out a bunch of mints, placing one in each of their hands. "One for me as well? I don't think Brother mine likes sharing Miss Hooper, that's what got him in this mess in the first place." Sherlock took a long drag and raised his eyebrows.

"For the last and final time Sherlock; it was nothing to do with sharing Molly as you put it, it was Lestrade's abuse of her good nature." Mycroft offered.

"Lestrade was the problem? Last I heard it was Molly who kept offering herself to men. On second thought Anthea, I'll take one of those mints in a moment." He winked.

"Sherlock." He snapped. "Of course Lestrade was the problem, Molly was caught in the wrong place at the wrong time and… I may have-"

"Over reacted and got your facts wrong because you're a jealous drunk?" He offered with a smile.

"In not so many words…" Mycroft raised his eyebrow, "But, yes, I suppose that is the case."

"And when you find her? I mean, knowing where she was obviously wasn't good enough. You ditched a meeting and called a helicopter for Christ sake."

"I'll… apologise." He raised his eyebrows and exhaled a huge sigh. "I was wrong and I should have handled this whole thing better. When I find her I'll offer my deepest apologies and hope we can address the issues to prevent this-"

"And if she accepts your apology? Then what? We'll still have a lot to talk about." A soft voice came from behind the three from the small archway by the entrance to the Abbey.

Mycroft looked to Sherlock with a mild look of… something and he shrugged his shoulders. "Of course, my dear." He dropped his cigarette and stamped it out, moving towards Molly with the sincerest look on his face.

Anthea rolled her eyes behind Mycroft's back and shook her head at Sherlock - they had both known the whole time that Molly was in earshot. The Holmes boys are such creeps sometimes. "Anthea," Sherlock interjected her thoughts, "Have you ever seen Whitby Jet?" He offered his arm to her and lead her away from Mycroft and Molly who had made their way towards the hostel.

'Sherlock was definitely worse." Anthea thought as she followed him into town.

Everything will be fine

Everything in no time at all

Hearts will hold