dearest reader!

this has been such a slow update and for that I apologise, I had many possible routes to take this story and did not want to continue until I was entirely happy with where I wanted to go. To those of you following this story, thank you so much for you patience, and I really hope this update gives you some enjoyment. As ever, any little review you can leave me, even the tiniest comment, is received with tremendous gratitude. Knowing what people think of my work means the work.

I really hope you enjoy :)


The rest of Mycroft's week passed like a dream, as if he had stepped into some sort of parallel life lived by another. He had spent every night at Molly's flat, only returning to his own home briefly in the mornings for clean clothes before going to the office. Every day he had gone through the same internal battle: he would go to work, telling himself firmly that the previous night had been the last time and he would not sleep with Molly again. But once the evening grew closer and the prospect of a lonely, cold evening alone was on the horizon, an inevitable sweet and warm text message from Molly would appear on his phone, and he found himself unable to resist going once again to her flat.

Mycroft knew he was allowing himself to become dangerously involved, but he could not quite sum up the willpower to do what he knew he had to, and break the blossoming relationship. Being with Molly was so easy and comfortable, there was no formality and nothing to worry too much about. He also could not deny the fact that despite his many fears, the sex they had shared had been truly incredible. In all of Mycroft's mostly chaste and fairly asexual life, he had never known such powerful feelings were possible. Molly had managed on more than one occasion to bring him to the brink of ecstasy, leaving him panting and exhausted and desperate for more. Although he was still hampered significantly by his own self-consciousness and lack of confidence, Molly's patience and understanding had helped significantly.

As Mycroft lay next to Molly's sleeping body, her breath rasping slightly in the silence of the dimness of the pre-dawn night, he only had one major worry on his mind. Over the past few nights, he had become more acutely aware that when they were in bed together, it was still Molly who was leading the way, going out of her way to pleasure him in every way possible. Mycroft was starting to feel concerned that he had still not managed to pluck up enough confidence to attempt to return the favour. It was certainly not out of selfishness that he was not trying to do anything for her benefit, but Mycroft was still convinced that his lack of experience was too much of a hinderance. As he lay there looking at her, he felt utterly intimidated as he contemplated what he could try to do to make her feel as good as she had made him feel.

Molly stirred suddenly and shifted onto her back, her eyelids fluttering slightly. She caught a glimpse of Mycroft, awake and watching her, and she slowly opened her eyes fully, smiling lazily.

"Hello there, watching me sleep are you?" She whispered, giving her neck a stretch.

Mycroft smiled.

"Something like that".

Molly blinked and cleared the bleariness from her eyes.

"Are you ok?" She asked.

"Yes, yes, fine," replied Mycroft hastily.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing at all".

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Just thinking".

"What about?"

"Oh, nothing".

Molly was not fooled, it was quite clear there was something on Mycroft's mind. She plumped the pillow behind her head slightly so she could prop herself up, and narrowed her eyes as she surveyed him.

"Come on, I can see there is something on your mind, what's up?" She asked quizzically.

Mycroft hesitated. Revealing his private fears and worries was most certainly not something he was accustomed to. But he also knew that it was going to be increasingly difficult to enjoy his time with Molly with these concerns on his mind. And surely, after the intimacies they had shared so far, it was only appropriate that this was something to discuss?

Mycroft took a deep breath and looked away slightly in order to avoid Molly's eyes.

"These last few nights have been really wonderful," he began nervously, "but I'm sure you've noticed that, er, I have not really done much to meet your needs if you understand what I mean".

Molly did not reply, but gave a gentle, understanding nod.

"I want you to know that this is not because I do not want to. But...I'm just not really sure what to do or what you like. It's not the sort of thing I've ever really understood".

"I see," said Molly seriously, a grave look in her eyes, "so you were never given lessons or instructions about what girls like? You've got no notes or anything to reference?"

"Er, sorry, pardon?" Said Mycroft, utterly confused by her answer.

Molly's serious face broke into a grin and she gave a relaxed laugh.

"I'm joking you idiot! Can't you see the point I'm trying to make?"

Mycroft flushed with embarrassment.

"Oh, so you were just laughing at my stupidity, thank you for that," he said, his cheeks burning and his feelings hurt.

Molly stopped laughing and gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

"No Mycroft," she said, both serious and kind once again, "you've missed my point. I was not laughing at you. I'm just trying to make you see that no one ever gets taught or told how to have sex with someone or how to make them feel good. This is not something you can study and learn!"

"So how does that help me?" Mycroft said, still feeling slightly irritable although the burning in his face had begun to subside.

"Mycroft," Molly said, shifting herself so that she could look at his properly, "how do you think I found out what you like? How did I work out what turned you on? What you enjoyed and what gave you pleasure?"

Mycroft stopped to consider this point. It was a good question.

"Well I hope you do not think this sounds rude," he said after a few moments of contemplation, "but I would have to say that you are presumably more experienced than myself when it comes to physical relationships".

Molly smiled ruefully.

"Whether that is true or not is besides the point," she continued, "so I'll tell you the big secret as to how I knew what you liked. I just tried what felt nice and and waited to see how you responded! So that is all you need to do. This is nothing to do with your experience or what you know or how confident you feel. It's very simple. Just try what you think, pay close attention to how the girl you are with responds, and let that guide you".

Mycroft drank in these words, relief flooding over him as he considered what Molly had said. So he was not at a disadvantage at all, he simply needed the courage to try.

"So that's all I need to do?" He asked, still feeling the need for reassurance, "just experiment and see what you think?"

Molly smiled, pleased to have calmed his fear.

"That is absolutely it," she said, "so why don't we try right now if you are in the mood to give things a go?"

With that, Molly clasped her hands around the back of Mycroft's neck and kissed him deeply, probing his tongue encouragingly with hers. Mycroft returned her kiss enthusiastically, his body shuddering slightly as excitement pounded through his veins. He felt a surge of confidence like he had never experienced before; he felt bold and daring, finally able to dare to try what he had wanted to do.

His fingers shaking slightly, Mycroft slipped his hand onto Molly's inner thigh, caressing and gently squeezing the flesh as they continued to kiss. She responded by shifting and parting her legs slightly, her flesh seeming to send a message to his hand to continue its exploration. Slowly, not wanting to rush, Mycroft allowed his hand to begin creeping higher, his fingers caressing and stroking gently as he travelled carefully up the inside of Molly's leg. As he edged daringly close to the top, she began to kiss him harder, digging her fingers into the back of his neck, willing him to keep going. Mycroft could hardly dare to believe what he was doing when his finger-tips finally brushed against the warm, damp female flesh between her thighs. She gasped into his mouth as the contact was made and his body once more shivered with excitement. Oh God, it was better, so much better, than he had ever imagined.

He stroked gently again, carefully parting the flesh to her entrance, sliding his finger in slowly as soon as he had found it. Mycroft realised at this moment exactly what Molly had meant by simply tuning himself in to the responses of the person he was touching. Molly moaned loudly as his finger entered her, the hot passage around his digit clenching and throbbing. Mycroft closed his eyes and concentrated hard on every sensation, he never wanted to forget this glorious feeling. Emboldened now, he carefully inserted a second finger, delving slightly deeper inside her as he pushed. This time she actually bit down on his neck, the fingers pressing into his neck now becoming almost painful. She arched her back and pressed her entire body against his, grinding herself gently against his exploring digits.

Into the midst of this heady, erotic atmosphere, the shrill ring of Mycroft's mobile suddenly erupted from where it lay on the bedside table. They both jumped violently at the unwelcome interruption, Mycroft coming to his senses quickly enough to answer the call before three rings had completed.

"Yes?" He barked into the phone, unnecessarily loudly and with slight aggression, hoping the caller did not notice he was out of breath.

"I'm sorry sir, but as we were predicting but hoping to avoid, it has happened again," came Anthea's calm voice.

So befuddled was Mycroft's brain by the electric atmosphere of the bedroom that he momentarily had no idea what she was talking about.

"Sorry?" He asked, straining to force his brain to think logically, which was not easy when all he could focus upon was the sensation of Molly's naked body lying beneath his and his aching erection that was desperate for release.

"Another assassination, sir," Anthea explained slowly. "It has been seven days since the last one, and unfortunately the threat that we would see one assassination per week has been carried out again. The Health Minister is dead".

"Jesus" muttered Mycroft, his mind finally beginning to focus as this news sunk in.

"The car is on its way sir, should be outside within ten minutes," Anthea said.

"No!" Exclaimed Mycroft suddenly, causing Molly to jump.

Anthea remained silent on the other end of the phone. Mycroft could picture her, wondering what on earth was wrong with her normally calm and glacial boss.

"I mean, you see, well..."Mycroft stammered vaguely, trying to come up with a convincing explanation, "I'm not actually at home tonight".

There was silence once again at the end of the phone as Anthea processed this information. Mycroft wondered to what extent her curiosity was now on alert.

"Would you prefer to be picked up somewhere else, sir?" She finally asked.

"No, thank you Anthea," Mycroft replied hastily, "I'm not actually far from the office. I'll make my own way in. I will see you shortly".

Mycroft ended the call and glanced down at Molly, the worried expression on her face indicating that she had heard every word.

"I'm going to have to go, I'm sorry about this," he said apologetically.

"Don't worry," Molly replied, "I'm sure I'll be getting a call any moment to go to the morgue, we better get dressed".

Mycroft climbed out of bed, covering himself with a nearby towel as the covers fell away. He still was not quite as comfortable as Molly was with wandering around the bedroom naked.

"Do you mind if I use your bathroom? I really have not got time to go home?" He asked.

"Of course," Molly smiled as she brushed her hair. Her own phone had just buzzed with a text message, presumably an order to come in to work. "Use anything you need, I'll jump in the shower after you".

Mycroft washed himself quicker than he had ever done before, helping himself to Molly's soap as instructed. He was anxious to get to the office, not only to sort yet another major crises, but to dampen any curiosity Anthea might be feeling about his current whereabouts. He did not like the thought of her pondering what he had been up to.

When he was ready, Mycroft returned to the bedroom to find Molly smoothing out a crisp white shirt that was hanging on the back of the door. He frowned at it.

"Is that mine?" He asked, as he began to pull the rest of his clothes on quickly.

Molly blushed.

"You left it here the other night," she explained. "I was doing some washing and just thought it would be nice to get it ready for you".

Molly did not wait to see his reaction, but scuttled quickly into the bathroom to get ready herself. Mycroft pulled on the fresh shirt, feeling both touched and oddly uneasy. Molly's desperation to have a domestic companion to care for was becoming more obvious by the minute.

Mycroft had little time left to dwell on his personal problems, it was the concerns of an entire nation that now weighed down heavily on his shoulders. He decided to head straight for the mortuary to save time, and sent a text message to Anthea to ask her to meet him there. He also sent the necessary message to Sherlock, ordering him to attend the mortuary as a matter of urgency. He knew that Molly was also shortly due to arrive, but they made separate travel arrangements. Arriving at the mortuary together in the early hours of the morning would arouse the suspicions of even the most slow-witted of people.

Mycroft entered the mortuary to find Anthea waiting for him in the reception area. She smiled briefly at him as she stood, her eyes only momentarily flickering away from her mobile phone.

"Sorry for the slight confusion this morning," explained Mycroft hurriedly, "I ran into an old university friend last night and we were having drinks. Ended up staying in his spare room which is why I was not at home".

Anthea did not reply and Mycroft was grateful for her feigned lack of interest. He knew that Anthea always enjoyed a gossip with the other girls who worked in adjoining offices and was most likely desperate to know exactly what he had been doing. However, she was also a consummate professional and utterly loyal to him alone, and for that reason would never pry when it was quite clearly not her place. So she pretended to have no inclination at all regarding his activities from the night before and he likewise felt no desire to confide in her.

"The body is through here," was all Anthea replied in her cool tones, "your brother is already present, plus he has others with him".

"Others?" Snapped Mycroft, his senses alerted by this unwelcome news.

Mycroft burst through the doors into the mortuary and surveyed all those present, displeased to see more people than he would have liked. Sherlock was there, bent over the body, his eyes studying the corpse and paying no attention to the fact that someone had just entered the room. John was there, watching the examination from a distance, and he raised a weary hand in Mycroft's direction by way of greeting when he saw him. Also standing nearby was Greg Lestrade, a detective from Scotland Yard, wearing the sheepish expression of somebody who was not entirely sure if they were supposed to be present. The sight that warmed Mycroft's heart the most was that of Molly, looking slightly flustered from having rushed into work, her cheeks reddening slightly as she caught Mycroft's eye. Had it only been merely a few hours before that they had been caressing each other in bed?

"Why have you dragged so many people here, Sherlock?" Mycroft demanded irritably, annoyed at his younger brother seemingly trying to take over his investigation.

"Believe me Mycroft, not all of us want to be here," muttered John wearily from the sidelines, Lestrade nodding unenthusiastically standing next to him.

"You seem to be rather slack this morning Mycroft, so I thought my team and I would get a head start!" Replied Sherlock, his cheerful excitement grating on Mycroft's nerves even more than usual.

Sherlock looked up from his work, grinning annoyingly at his brother before the smile was replaced with a look of astonishment. Everybody in the room stared quizzically at Mycroft, curious as to what had grabbed Sherlock's interest. Mycroft felt his temper, normally so controlled, beginning to prickle angrily beneath the surface.

Sherlock abandoned all interest in the body in front of him and walked slowly towards his brother, his eyes studying him in fascination.

"Well well dear brother," Sherlock said, his voice sounding awestruck, "I would never have thought it of you".

"Oh for God's sake Sherlock," snapped Mycroft angrily, his annoyance starting to get the better of him, "stop studying me like one of your specimens and concentrate on why you are here!"

But Sherlock no longer had any interest in the body he was examining. He marched directly up to Mycroft, standing barely inches from his face and inhaled deeply. The look on his face was one of mischievous delight.

"So then," he asked, his eyes twinkling excitedly, "what's her name?"

Mycroft's stomach seemed to freeze in the depth of his body. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Molly's face drop to the floor, a warm glow beginning to blaze in her face.

"What exactly are you talking about Sherlock?" Asked Mycroft, making every effort to sound supremely bored, hoping that this covered the internal panic beginning to unfold within him.

"I'm talking about whoever your mystery woman is, Mycroft," replied Sherlock, his eyes blazing defiantly as he refused to be silenced, "it's fairly obvious to everyone here you've spent the night with a woman. In fact it is so obvious, it is ridiculous that you honestly thought we would not notice".

There was an embarrassed silence in the room. Lestrade was looking around the room, keen to focus on anything except the confrontation unfolding before his eyes. Anthea was biting her lip, glaring defiantly at Sherlock as he dared to insult her boss. John's gaze was bouncing between Sherlock and Mycroft, a mixture of exasperation and sympathy on his face. Molly was not looking at anybody; Mycroft noticed she was blinking hard, probably trying to stop tears springing from her eyes. He glared furiously at his brother, his fists clenching and his arms shaking slightly.

"So how do I know?" Continued Sherlock, either oblivious or unconcerned by the awkward atmosphere surrounding him, "well, you are positively dripping in a woman's bathroom products. I can smell woman's soap, woman's toothpaste and a woman's deodorant. Your shirt has been washed using liquid tablets scented with jasmine and honeysuckle, a rather feminine choice and certainly not your usual. You've got a slight bruise on your collarbone, looks like the mark of teeth, so perhaps your lady friend has been a bit rough and bitten you. Now, next thing we see..."

"Just shut up Sherlock!" Mycroft suddenly exploded, his raised voice making everybody jump, "just shut your mouth for once in your life and mind your own business!"

There was a shocked silence in the room, nobody could quite believe what had happened. Arguably the most stunned person of all was Sherlock who stared open-mouthed at his brother. He had never seen Mycroft lose his temper and it had rendered even he lost for words. Mycroft's whole body was shaking with fury, his cheeks blazing with anger. He had never felt so humiliated in his life, his own brother spilling all his secrets for everybody to hear.

"Well," said Sherlock finally, having recovered himself from the shock, "she's really affected you badly, hasn't she? So come on, what's her name?"

Mycroft could not take anymore. Turning on his heel he stormed out of the mortuary, not looking back and refusing to even glance at any of the staring faces that watched him leave.

The tense atmosphere in the morgue was finally broken.

"Nice one, Sherlock. That was really nice".

Sherlock spun around in amazement, hardly believing that these words were spoken by John.

"What have I done wrong?" Sherlock demanded angrily, "he's the one being aggressive and losing his temper!"

John did not answer but pulled on his jacket angrily, throwing Sherlock a look of deepest disgust as his walked towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Sherlock asked incredulously.

John replied furiously, his voice shaking with anger.

"Unlike you, Sherlock, I'm not going to be nosey or pry or try to embarrass anybody. What I'm going to do is try to be a friend".