Song for this chapter: Do You Really Want to Hurt Me by Culture Club
Sherlock is still fuming as he heads for the foyer, hard on Hooper's heels. He automatically straightens his rumpled suit- fucking wankers didn't need to literally sit on him, not after he'd come back completely of his own accord- as he works out six different scenarios in his mind to get Winters to give up this mad idea of making Molly bloody Hooper his handler.
And for any of them to work, some snippy part of his mind sees fit to reminds him, he needs to actually be in Winters' presence. Not following Hooper down the hall like a puppy on a bloody lead.
And yet he doesn't turn back. He tells himself it's because he knows Winters won't let him back in, that she'll just set her two idiotic hulks on him and turn him out before he can get out a single word, but he knows the truth, even if he refuses to acknowledge it-
He'd rather hear what Molly has to say about it all, right now, in the heat of things, before she has time to lock down her emotions.
So he continues on, not quite catching her up, allowing her to set the (rapid, definitely annoyed) pace until they reach the foyer, where something unexpected catches his attention-
It's not that Morstan is flirting with some man, she does that as naturally as breathing. No, it's the man she's flirting with that's the unexpected part: a soldier, wearing dress greens. Mid-thirties with sandy blond hair starting to grey, bushy moustache that makes him seem older than he actually is (possibly a deliberate tactic on his part in order to maintain discipline in the ranks or some other military rot), what rank?- hm, a major, that definitely explained the moustache, someone so young needed every advantage he could get to make sure he was taken seriously.
None of that, however, is what sets Sherlock's teeth on edge; no, it's the way the soldier is looking at Molly as she slams into the room. His expression is one of concern, almost possessive- not that Sherlock Holmes is jealous- Molly's already admitted she doesn't have a current boyfriend-
Or has she? All she did say was that the last time she had sex (before himself, of course) was that it was terrible. At least, that was the gist of it. Is the little MI5 agent the cheating kind?
No, he realises as she smiles wanly at the berk in dress greens and gives him a small wave. She's not. The relationship she has with this man is not romantic, but rather… familial.
She's smiling at Bushy Moustache the way Eurus sometimes smiled at Sherlock when they were younger and far, far more innocent.
His smile turns to a glare when he catches sight of Sherlock, who's making a point of sauntering as casually as possible past the security booth.
The glare deepens when Sherlock shows Molly the red marks on his wrists from his less-than-gentle treatment at the hands of Winters' thugs and says, "At least we match now."
He meets her frown with an insouciant smirk; Mary snickers, and Bad Moustache flexes his hands as if he wishes they were around Sherlock's neck.
"Molly, what's going on?" he asks, obviously doing his best to keep his temper, which only makes Sherlock itch to see what it will take to make him lose it.
So he does what he always does in such situations: he pushes. "Isn't it obvious, captain?" he drawls, deliberately getting the man's rank wrong. "Agent Hooper's my new handler." He toys with the end of Molly's no-nonsense ponytail, lowering his voice to a seductive purr as he adds, "Makes sense, considering how... hands-on she tends to be with me."
Hooper flicks his fingers away with an annoyed huff. He makes the mistake of smirking at Mary; his only warning is the way her eyes widen before Major Moustache grabs him with one hand and throws a very professional punch that bloodies his nose and rocks him on his heels.
He doesn't hesitate before retaliating with a couple of blows he learned from the few months of boxing lessons he took in his teens. Oh, he could easily take out Major Short-Temper with a few moves of which the Marquess of Queensbury would definitely not approve, but he holds back. Let's the other man thinks he has an actual chance. It's looking to become a full-on brawl- which he knows Agent Ice Queen will be livid about- but Mary and Hooper, surprisingly well-coordinated for two people who've never actually worked together, manage to separate the two men.
"Enough of that, Holmes," Hooper snaps, jamming his arm up against his back. Getting some of her own back for the way he took her down in her own flat, he assumes. "And John! What's wrong with you, letting him get to you like that?"
Jawn's expression remains truculent but he doesn't move from where Mary has him pinned to the wall, her forearm against his throat and her knee poised at his groin. Just waiting for him to try something. She's grinning her best devil-may-care grin and clearly having the time of her life. The guard at the security booth is watching raptly; he may as well have a bag of jelly babies in his hands instead of the phone he's not yet dialed. "It's fine, Johansen, all under control," Hooper assures him, somewhat breathlessly. She twists Sherlock's arm. "Isn't it, Holmes."
"It's all good," he replies obediently, and feels a pang of disappointment when she lets go of him. Ah well, always time for more of the old slap and tickle later. Since they're apparently going to spend a great deal of time together.
He should feel more resentment and anger than excitement at the thought; after all, this all started because he wanted to warn Hooper away, to keep her out of his path while he hunted down his dear brother-in-law.
Ah well, he'll manage it. He ditched those two clowns Winters assigned to him, he'll ditch Hooper when the time comes just as easily.
Chance'll be a fine thing, his mind scoffs in the voice of his un-dear but very departed older brother.
Sod off, Mykey, he mentally sneers as Mary releases her hold on Jawn- taking her time, brushing off his uniform with exaggerated care, cooing at him in faux-apology. The soldier does not, Sherlock notes, push her away very quickly.
"Let's go," Hooper snaps. "We've made enough of a public spectacle of ourselves for one night." She turns back to Jawn- who is, Sherlock belatedly realizes, not just a friend but some sort of surrogate older brother, no doubt taking the place of the one who died when she was eleven or twelve- and says, "John, thank you, but I can handle it from here."
The look he shoots her is doubtful; the one he darts at Sherlock can be best described as murderous. Hooper steps into his line of sight, capturing his full attention. "Since it appears that Mr. Holmes and I have some things to discuss, I'll catch a ride back with him and- sorry, I didn't catch your name?" she interrupts herself to ask, giving Mary a sweet, insincere smile.
"Mary," both Morstan and Jawn say at the same time, causing him to chortle. Oh, she's already got this one by the balls; ten minutes alone with her and the Major will be putty in her hands.
Hooper doesn't look terribly surprised; in fact, her expression is more resigned than anything. "Right. Mary can give me a lift back to my flat so Holmes and I can have a little talk, and you can get back to your date. I'm sure she'll forgive you for being a little late."
"Already canceled it," Jawn replies. "If you don't mind, Mols, I'd rather tag along. You know, just to make sure Holmes here behaves himself."
Sherlock rolls his eyes at that, since it's blindingly obvious the man means to take full advantage of his role as Stand-In Big Brother. "Or," he says loudly as he accepts the wad of tissues Mary hands him and finally wipes the blood still oozing from his nose, "we can all just go to the Diogenes and let me see how far into the ground Anderson's run the place in my absence."
He's not surprised when both Hooper and Jawn eventually agree to that compromise. If the good Major thinks the lack of a bedroom will keep him from getting back into Hooper's knickers, well, that's his delusion. Sherlock has very fond memories of Wee Jimmy's desk and some very creative ideas for future debauchery in that office with his favorite MI5 agent.
Because if he can't keep her out of this as he'd originally planned, then he's damned well going to take advantage of her presence in every way possible.
A/N: Thank you everyone for your wonderful reviews. This chapter was written by me; the next two will be by hobbitsdoitbetter. We both appreciate all our readers very much!