Molly's head whirled.

She sat in the middle of her sitting room floor, music blasting in the background, surrounded by boxes where, just 24 hours before, she was completely unaware that her life would be changing so drastically.

She had most of her meager possessions packed already and it was only 2 pm. She packed up the majority of her clothes, against the orders of Anthea, who had been by early in the morning to take her measurements. The woman took one look in Molly's closet and told her to throw out everything and proceeded to take Molly's bra size as well. After her exit, Molly had defiantly boxed up most of her clothes, throwing out only what was unserviceable. She reasoned that she could wear her normal clothes while at home and her new ones when her services were required.

The bulk of her boxes were filled with hundreds of books. Molly loved to read; it was instilled in her by her parents, both literature professors. They differed on what type of books though, her mother firmly on the side of the classics, (The Iliad, Bleak House, Pride and Prejudice, Ivanhoe) whereas her father preferred more recent literature, (Of Mice and Men, To Kill a Mockingbird, The Grapes of Wrath.) Molly fell squarely in the middle, owning large amounts of both types. Whenever she had any extra money, which was rare, she spent it on books. Though now, they were mostly medical books or textbooks for her classes.

She sighed.

Anthea had delivered a missive from Mycroft Holmes during her visit that morning, which gave instructions for Molly to leave all her furniture and kitchen things. They would be placed into storage until such time as her services were no longer needed. She was informed that a bed and dresser would be waiting for her and that she could use some of her advance to buy anything else she wished. It seemed a bit odd that not a mention of living room furniture was made but she shrugged it off. She wasn't going to turn down new furniture, not when hers had so many holes and stains.

So really, Molly only had a small amount of belongings for Mycroft's men to move to her new flat.

She wondered what it would look like. She hoped it had some character, unlike the man who had interviewed her. She wasn't sure if she could live in a place that was as cold and clinical as he was. Though, his office, with its dark wood paneling and leather chairs, seemed out of pace with his personality so Molly had some optimism.

A loud knock on the door startled her from her thoughts and she jumped quickly to her foot. She turned down the volume and checked the clock before opening the door to let the men come inside and collect her boxes. She chewed her lip, watching them, before getting up the courage to hand her spare key to one of the men and tell him that he should lock up when they had finished, that she needed to pop out and get a few things. He merely nodded, taking the key from her and continued about his business, so Molly slipped out to purchase a few last minute items.

Molly wandered aimlessly about the store, not sure what to buy. She had plenty of funds in her bank account, thanks to the check she had received from Mr. Holmes the day before, but years of ingrained frugality was preying on her conscious as she picked up an expensive bottle of shampoo that smelled fantastic. She swallowed, fighting a battle with her inner self, and put it in her basket, along with the matching conditioner. She justified it by arguing that she needed to look her best for her new job. With a curt nod, she also picked up a body wash, moisturizer, and some makeup. She wasn't one for a lot of facial products, usually going without entirely, but she didn't want to disappoint.

Molly's mind dwelled on her new employer. She wondered what he was like, if he was anything at all like his brother. She hoped not. Mycroft Holmes reduced her normally impassive demeanor to that of a stammering idiot. Her eyes narrowed.

I really need to work on that. Even if the man is the British Government, I should be able to have a conversation with him without being intimidated to the point of incoherence.

She shook her head and moved down the aisle, picking up hair ties and bobby pins. She kept her hair back most of the time, but those ties had a way of disappearing. She wandered about a bit more, her brain still occupied with wrapping around all the changes in her life when she suddenly remembered she had to be back at her flat soon. She hurriedly checked out, cringing at the price she was paying, and jogged back down the street to her flat.

She didn't see the tall man leaning in the doorway of the coffee shop across the street, watching her.

Molly got back home just in time to transfer her purchases to an overnight bag before the car came for her. She was informed via text from Anthea that she should come down and she looked around her flat one last time, taking a deep breath. She squared her shoulders and headed down the stairs.

Anthea's lips pursed as she took in the slight woman climbing into the back of the vehicle. She couldn't see the interest that (apparently) both Holmes men had taken in the shy girl.

Oh well, it's not my job to understand them.

Molly spent the ride silently gazing out the window. She'd learned from earlier in the day that she would get nothing more than monosyllabic answers from the woman across from her who seemed glued to her phone. She wondered vaguely if Anthea was her real name but decided that it didn't really matter. She'd call herself something different too, if she worked for the most powerful man in the country.

They pulled up outside a building and Molly looked up.

There was a café next door, which Molly was grateful for; she could cook but didn't always want to put forth the effort when she was the only beneficiary. The door was black with a worn gold, (or is that brass?) knocker that was slightly off center. She sat staring for a moment before Anthea cleared her throat.

"Oh right, I just, I just go on in?"

For some reason, the smug smile Anthea gave her as she handed her the key didn't sit well.

"Yes Miss Hooper, go right in. Your things are waiting for you in your bedroom."

"Ok, um, thanks." Molly said in a small voice and after receiving no reply, she climbed out of the car with her bag in hand.

The car drove away and Molly was left looking after it a bit forlorn. She took a deep breath and walked over to the door, taking a moment to look up. She thought for a second that the curtain in the upstairs window twitched but dismissed it as a figment of her imagination.

She put her key in the lock and started to twist when suddenly, the door was wrenched from her grasp. She bit back a scream as a head poked out from the, now wide open, door.

"Molly Hooper."

It wasn't a question, but a statement that came from the man looking out at her. His bright, ice blue eyes swept over her and she got the same uncomfortable sensation she had experienced the previous day when speaking with Mycroft Holmes.

There was a slight resemblance but this man was quite a bit younger, mid to late twenties, she'd guess, and oh so very handsome. He had tousled dark curls above those gorgeous cat-like eyes and the most amazing bone structure she had ever seen in a person's face. His cheekbones were impossibly high and his nose prominent. The look on his face though screamed annoyance. Molly stared at him, stunned. Nevermind that he was the most gorgeous man she'd ever seen, what was he doing in her flat?

And how does he know my name?

"Don't ask such stupid questions."

"I didn't say anything."

"You're thinking loud enough they can hear you down the street."

Her brow furrowed as he rolled his eyes at her and moved back to let her enter. When she didn't move, he reached out and grabbed her upper arm, dragging her into the flat and closing the door behind her.