A huge lovely thank you to my delightful friend lilsherlockian1975, who has taken the time to encourage me and beta this part of the story without me begging, weeping, offering her chocolate or even threats…instead I think she would simply like me to have Sherlock have many happy orgasms! So…yeah…Anyway, thank you my dear and I will get to work on Sherlock + hot, sweaty sex with Molly = happy orgasms.

Still any mistakes are still my mistakes.

A warm, friendly thank you to the lovely encouraging reviews, lilsherlockian1975, applejacks0808, razzle-dazzle1606, Succi, retwin...you are lovely and completely awesome. I do hope you continue to enjoy!

Warning: there is a naughty word in here…(GASP)…um, yeah, somewhere…that's right and it rhymes with 'luck' and 'truck' and some other words…it doesn't rhyme with thyme or time…or yeah, you know and I know there are some readers that like a heads up now and then. You are welcome.


~*~And So Beats A Gentle Heart~*~

~*~PART 8~*~

'…To the logician all things should be seen exactly as they are, and to the under-estimate oneself is as much a departure from the truth as to exaggerate one's own powers.

-The Greek Interpreter by Arthur Conan Doyle

'"Well, you certainly touched upon rather a tender point…"'

-The Gloria Scott by Arthur Conan Doyle

~*~SHERLOCK~*~

Molly had known, of course, she had known. No matter what others may say or hint at (for she had heard the whispers that she was a fool and a stupid fool at that, for loving and helping Sherlock Holmes) she was in no way stupid or a fool!

That night Sherlock had drugged her tea. She knew this without a single doubt and seeing that the man in question kept well-known and some unknown rare poisons and questionable herbs on the exact same shelf as his teas…Well, anything was possible.

Except Molly trusted the man she loved, really how could she not? So when he made a loud show of making tea…Which she found to be highly suspicious, for he enjoyed ordering others about and Molly thought he'd be using the whole 'I've been horribly, savagely tortured' bit…and…really should a horrible, savagely tortured man be expected to make his own tea? She wasn't cold hearted; of course she would have willingly made tea for him. Wouldn't have had to twist her arm. No, sir.

Yet…Sherlock had made the tea. He was loud about it too. Slamming cabinet doors and drawers…Making quite the show of it. Wow, he didn't need a crime scene to be a drama queen!

While he made the tea, he had ordered her to sit and she had done just that…Watching him put on one hell of a good show.

There he was, using his bedsheet much like a toga…Looking carefree and without any worries. Yes, even bruised and he still had to be sore and hurting he hid it well. All the while he looked so devilishly handsome and moved with quick elegance that almost made her wish…oh, how she wished…

But no…Molly couldn't go there. It was enough that he was simply her good and loyal friend. He didn't need to be more…Nope. No matter how her heart yearned otherwise.

Though some people just might wonder just how good and loyal a friend was that would purposely drug her…

Well, okay…Sure, she could see where they were coming from. However she knew why Sherlock wanted to drug her. It wasn't to be mean, cruel, heartless, naughty reason or even for some odd experiment or enjoyment on his part.

No, none of that.

Sherlock wanted her to rest…to sleep a hopefully dreamless night. He knew her much better than any former lover had ever had. He didn't want her to sob into her pillow with thoughts of her beloved friend Victor or even feel shame over being forced to kill a complete stranger to save John's life.

So, Sherlock drugged her tea in the strong belief that he was helping her…

Odd, perhaps but even stranger still it did help. For to be honest she wanted to sleep…wanted a dreamless night…some rest before being haunted by painful memories. To not have Victor visit her in her dreams and ask her 'why'…A question she asked each time she thought of her best friend.

So, as she watched Sherlock put on a show, banging and slamming things…Molly knew damn well the famous consulting detective was up to something.

He even casually…way too casually to be honest…said how he was putting something special in his own tea, which was why he didn't want her to make it. It was nothing illegal, not even habit forming…All quite safe in fact…

Safe.

Oh, the way he said that word. His voice seemed to have gotten deeper and the glance he had given her as he spoke that word…

Safe.

The glance had held a rare tenderness…A softness…A warmth…

And the way he had said it…As if he was promising her safety. That for the moment, everything would be okay for he was there and nothing would hurt her. Not her memories. Not her past or even her present. Not even Sherlock would hurt her…He would do what he could do to comfort her…protect her. Keep her safe…

Molly wasn't sure how she knew this. Maybe it had just been a whimsical moment, but she honestly didn't think so.

Molly watched him hand her the cup of tea and his eyes never once left her face. He watched her so very closely…She knew he was waiting for something. That confirmed to her that he had done something to her tea.

She hadn't felt angry at him, though she probably should have. Her hand hadn't even gotten that weird itch it sometimes had to slap him. Nope and really…it was because she knew.

Molly wondered if he knew that she knew…Yet he was still putting on the show, being the actor and director, wanting it all to play out perfectly as planned. Perhaps he didn't know, for he did have a human talent for missing certain things.

Here he had told her that she had to stay at Baker Street for a couple of days so she could take care of him…Yet, Molly suspected that for tonight it was the other way around, at least in Sherlock's mind. He was planning to watch over her. Keep her safe.

Attempt to keep her from drowning in painful memories and help her rest from a completely rotten day. He'd watch over her, of course. Be there for her.

So really, how could she be angry with him over that? So with his eagle sharp eyes watching her, she lifted the cup and slowly sipped the hot tea…The hot drugged tea.

And then after what seemed a few minutes….Sherlock lied to her. Okay, to be honest, that annoyed the hell out of her. Him seeming to mutter darkly about how a mix up must have happened…how it must have been her fault somehow. Yeah, right…Really he couldn't pull a fast one on her. Not at the moment anyway.

Molly felt whatever chemical he gave her take effect. He was instantly there to keep her from sliding out of her chair with kind and gentle hands…God, those hands…Those wonderful hands of Sherlock's…they could be so strong…so very strong…much like deadly sharp iron when dealing with the criminal element yet with her…They were gentle, kind, loving in their own way…They were perfect actually. Full of security, warmth and comfort.

Molly had been dimly aware of Sherlock lifting her into his arms and carrying her close to his chest and holding her tenderly. She may have breathed his name as he moved steadily and purposely towards his bedroom door. As always his door stood open so it was quite simple for him to lay her down on his bed with no trouble.

"Everything will be alright, Molly…" Sherlock promised her softly. His hand caressed her hair back away from her face. Molly could no longer keep her eyes open though to be honest she wasn't really even trying to achieve such an action.

And so she slept.

If she had any dreams, Molly had no memory of them when she opened her eyes the next morning.

Sherlock was sitting in a chair by the bed, with his fingers under his chin and eyes halfway closed almost as if he was in deep thought…except those eyes seemed oddly aware and focused on her. Simply watching her…Oh, God, she couldn't help but think, she hoped like hell she hadn't snored or…or drooled…Hmm…Actually, with how dry her mouth seemed to be…that would have been doubtful…but still…

Plus, she hoped that she hadn't talked in her sleep either! Goodness, she didn't want her mind to even go there! That would have been so embarrassing! Though…Really… Molly guessed it didn't matter what her body did while she slept…What mattered was the odd and strange feeling that Sherlock had taken the time to be there by her side. To watch over her while she slept. Though she had no way of knowing if he had been there the whole night…and perhaps to some it might seem creepy except to her it was…well…it was really, really nice. Especially coming from Sherlock.

The thought that he would actually do that, for her, made her heart melt.

Again, she had no idea if he had sat there the whole night, he could have played his violin in the sitting room for hours on end and she would have never known. Not with the chemical that he had given her to keep her in much needed peaceful slumber.

All she knew for certain was that he was here by her side right now.

Still in a damn bedsheet and really no man should have that sexy of knees or legs…Damn, even those toes of Sherlock's made her have seriously naughty thoughts.

Luckily, Sherlock didn't seem to notice that there was a woman in his bed that was thinking about him all stretched out like some sweet pagan sacrifice and then…oh, then she would slowly, oh so slowly place her mouth and hands over every single sexy inch of his—

"Oh, good, you're awake," Sherlock cruelly and heartlessly interrupted her delicious thoughts. "I'm ready for those blueberry pancakes now."

Of course he was.

Molly watched silently as he stood and gave a long drawn out stretch before he turned and walked out of the room and how he gathered the bedsheet around him…well…she received a mighty fine hint of an sweet squeezable ass. An ass that had luckily not been touched during his horrible torture.

It looked lovely, really. Great poets of the past would have written sonnets about such a lovely beautiful ass. Pale and smooth…it made Molly want to leap up and grab said wonderful sexy ass…

Now she was in no way a slut, but that ass of Sherlock's could make a buttoned up nun suddenly have deliciously naughty lusty thoughts…

"Molly! The pancakes won't make themselves now, will they?" Sherlock shouted from somewhere in his flat.

And speaking of asses…

"Sherlock, I must use the loo first and hopefully find clean clothes and a toothbrush…and a hair brush…" Molly yelled back before muttering the last bit about the hair brush knowing her hair must look awful. She slowly sat up and pushed back the blanket that she dimly remembered Sherlock covering her with.

Sherlock seemed to instantly show back up to stand there in the doorway of his room. Right before he started to explain almost as if she should have figured this all out on her own…

"I gave Mrs. Hudson the keys to your flat along with a list of things you would need. There are clean clothes and even a toothbrush as well as some other…things. The bag is in the bathroom. Oh, and she even checked on your cat and it seems that Toby is still very much a cat. An alive one at that."

She wasn't sure she had expected anything else, so all she could do was slowly blink at him before gifting him a bright smile. "Well, that's good! I'd hate to go home expecting a sweet housecat and end up with a moody lion."

"Mmmm, yes, that would indeed be a huge surprise now wouldn't it?" Sherlock smirked at her mischievously.

Damn it all! Did he have to be such a hottie? Even as his body was slowly healing from being tortured…Goodness! Sherlock Holmes was every woman's great erotic fantasy until…

"Now why are you not making me those pancakes for me, woman?" Sherlock asked giving her a look. "Seriously, Molly, you are not normally so lazy."

…until he opened his mouth.

Molly groaned in frustration.

"Sherlock!" she growled before stomping up to him, lifting her chin and glaring at the man. The great consulting detective rarely ever ate especially when working a case and now it seemed he was demanding cooked food from her…And here she was barely feeling or even looking human at the moment. Sheesh! "I'll make your damn pancakes when I'm ready too and not before! Now out of my way, I have a much more important mission to accomplish!"

He sidestepped to let her move past him giving her only enough room to brush against his lean body. There was still a mischievous smirk upon his face and a sparkle in his eyes that made her suspect that he was highly amused by her outburst.

When she entered the bathroom she slammed the door shut…She could have sworn that she heard Sherlock chuckle.

The bastard…

When Molly finally left the loo, she felt much more human and hopefully looked like one as well. She was thankful and very grateful when she had found the overnight bag so carefully and lovingly packed. She'd have to remember to thank Mrs. Hudson. She had a strong feeling that Sherlock hadn't bothered to thank the dear sweet woman.

When she walked into the kitchen, she noticed right away that Sherlock was no longer alone. At least she strongly believed he had been alone as he waited for her to wake up earlier. Something in his manner was now different so that lead her to believe that she was right.

In the setting room, Molly could clearly see that Sherlock still had that damn bedsheet wrapped tightly and sexily around him as he sat in his chair. His knees were drawn up to his chest and the sheet did a fine job covering anything that needed to be covered.

However there was a very familiar man now sitting opposite of Sherlock and his faithful bedsheet…Important note, the man sitting opposite was not wearing a bedsheet. Not to be mean but…she was a bit thankful about that fact. The familiar man was actually perfectly, quite classily and most expensively dressed. A impeccable dark grey three piece suit no less…He turned his head slightly behind his shoulder to look at her as if he had known instantly that she had entered…It looked as if a brief smile thought about gracing his lips but in the end found it was simply too lazy to do so.

Mycroft's cold glance didn't seem quite as icy as the last time Molly had laid eyes on him.

Gee, it was amazing what a little yet well-placed, hard slap could do.

With a man like Mycroft Holmes it seemed to have made him slightly more human than a cold calculating machine. Molly smiled brightly at him before giving him a welcoming happy finger wave. He nodded in acceptance of the smile and happy finger wave…however…she had an odd feeling that he would rather have his balls set on fire before being run over by a truck before he'd ever lift his hand and give someone a cheerful wiggling finger wave…Then for some reason she had a brief thought and wondered if cold and oh so proper Mycroft Holmes had ever given someone an unfriendly finger wave…a certain middle finger perhaps…She knew damn well Sherlock gave those freely, mostly to the man in front of him. She had witnessed it countless times…A few moments ago being one of them.

Mycroft Holmes proper man that he was seemed to have not noticed it (aka ignored it but later will sneer something nasty at his brother probably as he walked out the door, back towards Sherlock and leaving quickly)…Greatest brotherly revenge, keep brother who loves having last word from that last word…

Perhaps why Sherlock had given him the finger, response to the last time they had met and the same silly thing had happened.

Honestly, Molly would never understand normal men, but the Holmes brothers…they weren't normal men now were they?

"Morning, Mycroft!" Molly found herself saying as she moved around Sherlock's kitchen and happy that she could easily hear everything the brilliant brothers said. Which was a good thing for if she had to gather all the necessary items to make the man she loved (aka the great Lord and Arse of Baker Street) his breakfast she might as well have entertainment!

"Morning, Molly," Sherlock's brother replied right back respectfully even though there wasn't much emotion within his tone.

Molly briefly noticed Sherlock giving them a frown as if unsure how he felt with them calling each other now by their first names…He might be trying to figure out when and why that happened.

"Will you be staying for blueberry pancakes, Mycroft?" Molly asked as a large bowl she had found clinked against the counter top as she set it down.

"Will they have cinnamon sugar dusted on them?" Mycroft asked right back this time there was emotion in his tone…A lot of it in fact…Hope and…anticipation…She imagined if she could see him at that moment she'd see a longing in those cold blue eyes. Hmm, Mycroft Holmes seemed to have a serious love affair with sweets…

"Of course," Molly informed him in such a way that suggested that he was quite silly thinking otherwise.

"I guess I can make time in my extremely busy schedule for pancakes with cinnamon sugar dusted on them," Mycroft replied in a completely flippant tone.

"Hey! Those are my blueberry pancakes that Molly's making!" Sherlock growled at his brother looking highly unpleased. If he had been king it was highly likely he'd be asking for one's removal…of one's head.

"I'll be making plenty to go around, Sherlock…I'm making enough for you, not that you ever eat very much, Mrs. Hudson, me…and your brother….and some extra just in case John and Mary show up and if they don't I can freeze the remaining pancakes that I have made and you can have the extra later."

"That is all fine and good…nice of you, but then you are always nice unless I'm high," Sherlock muttered almost darkly before saying quite clearly giving his brother a look of displeasure. "Fatty here doesn't need pancakes. I see that you have gained three pounds since I've seen you last."

"Actually I've gained one and a half pounds…and really, Sherlock…here I've been lead to believe that you have learned to share your things." Mycroft said quite coldly as if something now was displeasing him.

Molly quickly looked over in time to see Sherlock give his older brother a confusing gaze.

"When have I ever shared anything of mine, Mycroft?" Sherlock asked all the while saying the word 'shared' as if it was highly vulgar and insulting to even bring up in respectable company.

Molly wasn't watching at the moment but had a feeling that Mycroft had just shrugged seeming to not respond to that line of questioning…not just yet anyway…instead he stated as if he was talking to a toddler. "Sherlock, I do wish you would put some clothes on."

"And I wish that you would go away…far, far away."

"Sherlock—"

"Must I remind you that I've been brutally tortured, Mycroft?"

"No, you don't need to remind me, brother mine! One of the reasons I'm here and it reminds you that I care about you-will always be here for you…however, just because you have been tortured does not mean you now get to run around your flat with no clothes on!" Mycroft declared sharply.

"I'm perfectly covered and if mummy were here she wouldn't mind so why do you?"

"I'm not mummy! However, if she was here she would highly suggest you put on one of your dressing gowns…for you do have company. Perhaps that nice maroon one that flatters you quite nicely, if I must say. Or that tan one I gave you as a welcome home present."

"I will have you know that *all* my dressing gowns flatter me nicely!" Sherlock informed his brother as if he should have already known this.

"Not so…that black satin one makes you look as if you have birthing hips."

Sherlock suddenly glared at him highly insulted before he growled, "How dare you!"

"I'm simply stating the truth, Sherlock! Your hips look huge in that one! Deep inside you know this to be true…it's why you rarely wear it!"

"If my hands weren't sore I'd be punching you hard in the face!"

"And if I weren't sitting so comfortably in this chair…or even really care… I'd shake you for being such a horrid friend to John and Mollyespecially Molly."

Molly nearly dropped the egg she was about to break into the bowl on her foot before turning her face towards the Holmes brothers. Mycroft had sounded almost…angry

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at him, standing up to tower over him. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"John has developed an on-line gambling problem and you have done nothing!" Mycroft accused. "He is a married man. A husband and a father…and your best friend! Yet you are doing nothing to help him!"

"As if you know anything about being a best friend! You don't even have friends! You only know people, or goldfish as you like to call them!" Sherlock growled almost hatefully. Fire in his sharp eyes. "And I will have you know that I have been doing something! I have been stealing his laptop and locking it in my drawer! John is annoyed but he suspects that I know he has an on-line gambling problem but I won't say anything until he openly brings it up first! Do you want to know why, you heartless prick? Because I am a damn, fine best friend!"

"Oh, right, you are such a 'damn fine' friend you faked your suicide and left your best friend hurting in a sea of painful emotions for two long years… You, Sherlock, nearly broke him…Is that what friends do?" Mycroft informed him coldly.

Sherlock stood there, as if he had been slapped, then almost looking lost there for a moment. Lost and fragile. Molly nearly dropped everything to run over there to hit Mycroft and hug Sherlock. She didn't mostly because the look disappeared so very quickly.

"And I came back and I even said that I was sorry," Sherlock told Mycroft before lifting his chin and continuing, "We are good now. John and I's relationship is in a good place and I'm certain it will stay there. I will do my best to always be there for him, be at his side when need be. Fight for and with him because I may not be the most likable man around here but I have learned what it means to be a friend. Mostly because John has been teaching me! So, don't you dare sit there and judge me, brother mine-"

"Is that what you think I'm doing?" Mycroft cut in softly, his face was completely void of any expression. "Judging you? I don't have friends, Sherlock, remember? So, really…What the fuck do I know?"

"Exactly! What the hell do you know about having or maintaining a relationship with friends? You might be the Smart One but on this matter I surpass you!" Sherlock almost snarled the words as he eyed Mycroft most unpleasantly.

"Well, I know for certain that I wouldn't pimp my friends out like you do with Molly!" Mycroft told him with a sharp deadly edge to his voice.

Sherlock actually looked as if his brain had shut down for a brief moment…or exploded…Molly really wasn't sure of which.

Then…Oh, God, then Sherlock's eyes met hers…They were suddenly brutal with intense emotion of likes she had never before witnessed…Eyes that were so damn cold and deadly sharp with a smoldering anger…For some reason she was reminded of the fact that he was so very handsome and at the moment there seemed to be a savage beauty to him…A Warrior of old…It reminded her that Moriarty's brother was in for a world of hurt, there would be nothing left of that fool once Sherlock was done with him…However, at the moment that look was turned…on to her

"Do you have any idea what the fuck my brother is talking about, Molly?" His voice was low and commanding…

Goodness…He was hot

Molly took a deep and shaky breath.

Seriously, there was something so damn sexy about that commanding voice and that hard savage look. It made her think of naughty hot things…Things in her imagination that would completely wipe out that dark frown upon Sherlock's face.

Nor was she use to him saying the 'f' word…Yet, now…

Now she could picture him whispering that in her ear with that deep low commanding voice of his and his hands slid down her thighs to…to…oh, right

Sherlock had asked her a question and his eyes were now challenging her to answer him.

Now. Right now in fact…

So…nervously and a bit bravely she cleared her throat to state quite clearly, "Well, you see…There's been a slight misunderstanding…I fear, Mycroft simply misunderstood what I said…um, yeah, that's right…a misunderstanding…"

"A misunderstanding?" Sherlock asked slowly as if he was uncertain that he understood such a word.

Molly moved her mouth to respond but found to her dismay no words coming forth…

"Molly informed John and me that she'd do anything for you," Mycroft came quickly to her rescue. "Even, to my great horror, give strangers blowjobs! Perhaps even more scandalous sexual favors! All for you, of course…The way she talked, brother mine, made me wonder if you hadn't already…well, you know…pimped her out…"

He suddenly left the sentence hanging. Making Molly realize with a start that she did not want or need to be rescued by this man. She felt he had just put a rope around her neck! That damn rat bastard!

"Never!" Sherlock said moving his eyes away from Molly to glare at his annoying brother.

"Perhaps you should inform her that her doing such a thing is never necessary. For I will have you know that she went to that ghastly cabin where you were being held with the plan of giving your kidnapper's blowjobs just to save your pale skinny and highly annoying arse!" Mycroft quickly added leaning over to look at Molly over his shoulder with wide eyes as if he still couldn't believe that had been the game plan.

Molly was studying an extremely unhappy Sherlock. The famous consulting detective in no way looked happy or thankful at all…Not that she would have really done that but still…wasn't it the thought that mattered?

Suddenly, Molly had an odd thought… A very odd thought indeed…Why would the self-proclaimed high functioning sociopath care? Was that possessiveness and something else in his normally cold eyes? Something much like jealousy at the thought that she would do something so personal and private to another man?

This was Sherlock Holmes, for heaven sake! The legendary consulting detective was well known for doing anything for a case. No matter how cold or cruel or how crazy it seemed to be…YET…

Oh, goodness! The way his intelligent eyes glittered so savagely and how his jaw looked tight enough to break and those manly sore looking hands tightened upon the bedsheet he wore so proudly…

It truly did make her wonder if she was imagining something that the woman inside her yearned for. It gave her sad, lonely heart a flutter of hope…Could it be that Sherlock Holmes actually cared and was it possible that that caring could possibly turn into something more…much more?

No! She didn't want to think that way, for it would surly lead to nothing but heartache and deep despair.

It was just…Well…Sherlock always seemed to surprise her. Perhaps it was because he was unique and never boring…He seemed well adapted at keeping everyone including her on her toes.

Her thoughts where roughly broken as Sherlock stated darkly, "Well, that did not happen. In fact…That. Will. Never. Happen. Ever. Molly, you will never give anyone oral sex or hell any type of sex other than—" He suddenly cut himself off. His lips slamming shut and was it the light from the window that made him seem so suddenly pale? And…was that a flicker of…fear…in those eyes?

"Other than?" Mycroft repeated slowly, looking much like a shark who now scented fresh blood in the water. "Tell me, who is this 'other than' of which you speak?"

"I have said all that needs to be said on this matter, Mycroft and Molly will now obey," Sherlock declared with a lifted chin and extreme haughtiness that would have put to shame any royalty. "Now, Molly remember no more sex or blowjobs and Mycroft be a good brother and stick your dick in a blinder and turn it on. I must go and get dressed."

He began to stomp proudly towards his bedroom when Mycroft's voice stopped him. His back straight and rigid.

"Now that is not nice and I'm not talking about you wanting me to seriously hurt myself, no….but I have spoken to Molly's former lovers…not that she has many but they have all declared that her blowjobs were truly outstanding. One even cried at what he said was the most beautiful thing he'd ever experienced and he shouldn't have been such a prick to a goddess such as her. So really, brother mine, to not allow such pleasure on any of Molly's future partners would be a great tragedy."

Sherlock did not turn around to look at him or Molly.

"Wait…my former lovers said they were 'truly outstanding'?" Molly quickly asked.

"Yes, they gave you five stars," The British government confirmed.

"Aww, that's sweet," Molly couldn't help but say. For really what else could she say and really it was sweet?

"Well, like I said you haven't had a lot of lovers. However they all remembered your blowjobs with great fondness, however, they did not enjoy you talking about past autopsies you have performed or the ones in the past that you would have enjoyed doing while you both snuggled after colitis. Mostly they involved murdered victims of the past that you went born during that time to do…"

Molly frowned. Well…obviously those silly men didn't understand fantastic conversation. How boring of them. For she remembered the talks with great fondness…though, yes, it was mostly a one sided conversation but she thought it was because she wore them out.

Finally she shrugged right as she heard Sherlock walk the rest of the way to his bedroom and slam his door. Hard.

Molly sighed and went back to making the Holmes brother's their breakfast.

To suddenly find Mycroft beside her, she was deeply surprised by this as she never once heard or saw him coming towards her. Yet…There he was. Suddenly there, next to her and silently breathing. Some would find that alone creepy.

"I have plans in place," Mycroft suddenly informed her in a low, soft voice. "This is one mission I will not have fail."

"Oh…" Molly blinked at him. Not sure what he was going on about or how to respond so she went with, "Oh-Okay."

A small smile briefly lifted the corner of his lips.

"I may annoy you and say things that…will seem…odd," Mycroft explained calmly. "But they are very important. For you see Molly, I like you and I'm not really fond of people. I don't like them at all actually…Yet…I like you. I am a man who refuses to have friends…However, I do have family. You, my dear, are going to become my sister and for that to come about we must get you married to Sherlock."

Molly could only stare at him stunned and perhaps gasping at him like a fish out of water.

"In the coming weeks my plans," Mycroft explained, still talking softly. "are extremely important. For you see, Molly, I like you and seeing that I am not fond of people and a bit of an apathetic sociopath…and yes, I know both words seem to mean the same thing however it's better than calling myself an 'high functioning' sociopath…I simply don't care nor want to…However, I find myself liking you. I'm starting to 'care' which is annoying. So, seeing that I'm a man who refuses to have friends….mostly because I'm of a higher intellect than everyone else and not because I care that they could be used against me. I'm a sociopath so really, I don't care if they are used against me. I do, however, have family and to make my mummy happy…I care about family. I'm told I will always care even after she dies…though I do find that I do care….About Mummy and Daddy and Sherlock…and other family members…anyway, my point is…I now find I care about you and that means that you, my dear, are going to become my sister. I know you won't fight it, for you love him, madly, and deeply, which makes it easier to marry you off to my brother and marry him you will."

Molly found herself staring at him with wide eyes and an open mouth. Completely frozen now. She eyed him as if Mycroft was cobra instead of a man…The way he stared at her with cold, unblinking eyes…

He continued, "As I have stated, this mission will not fail. Now, do me a favor…lightly dust a little flour onto the front of your blouse and when seated at the table, I will tap your foot with mine. That will be your signal to adjust your bra strap. Do not look at my brother! I want you to make sure you jiggle one of those breasts of yours…you will receive bonus points if after a moment you jerk both of your breasts up and down, by those bra straps…"

"Sherlock thinks my breasts are tiny." Was all she could think to say.

He tilted his head and his eyes suddenly warmed. "Ah, so he has already pointed out that he has eyed your breasts whenever you have entered the room."

Molly blinked up at him… "Well, I wouldn't go that far…I don't think…"

"Has my brother ever talked about any other body part of yours?"

"Well…um, h-he said I had a small mouth."

Mycroft chuckled. He actually chuckled! "Oh, my dear, that is good! Tell me, when he told you that was his back turned towards you?"

Why did that matter? Molly wondered. She shifted upon her feet, nervously. "Well, that was a long time ago…a-and he noticed that I had taken off some lip stick and he said my lips were too small without it now a-and, yes, his back was turned."

Mycroft chuckled again. He looked as if he was a kid in a candy store. There was a twinkle in his eyes. He leaned in even closer to share with her. "My dear brother was bragging. When we were young he once told me to shut my big mouth. I told him that seeing how we were siblings that what he just said was vulgar and wrong on so many levels nor did I care about the size of his dick. Then I explained that if a man told another person, be it male or female, that they had a big mouth they had just declared that that they had a tiny penis. However if that male told someone that they had small mouth or lips…well…their penis was huge. Though I told him not to fear, if he had a small dick, for even tiny things were a choking hazard…Anyway….why would Sherlock be bragging about his dick size to you if he wasn't interested in you?"

"B-But that was a long time ago…"

"And he trusts you and values you even more today than he did yesterday," he declared. "So, really, doing certain things my way…what could it hurt? Hmmm?"

Molly silently stared after Mycroft as he went back to the chair he had left. He had moved with stealth like elegance. He calmly picked up a newspaper and unfolded it to appear as if he was reading intently.

She must have been staring at him for a long time for his voice made her jump as he declared, "You know breakfast won't make itself…sister mine."

The 'sister mine' was said in such a beautiful whisper. Full of promise. Full of the belief that she was already Sherlock's wife…already an in-law…his sister. Not by blood but by marriage.

Mycroft Holmes was a sweet crazy man. Perhaps two words that one would not normally put towards the cold, brilliant and highly arrogant man but the way he said…'sister mine'…

Molly knew instantly that he actually believed those words to already be true. They were real to him. Not some dream or a long shot…but real. If only…she could believe in those words as well.

Oh, to be Sherlock's wife. His partner…to simply be his

However, she knew the truth…

Molly felt a sad and wistful smile come upon her face…

No…How could that ever be possible? She would never be Mycroft Holmes' sister…

Maybe…With time he will be forced to simply accept her friendship…without her getting slap happy towards him…

Quietly, she turned away, to work on making those pancakes…

And for some odd reason that she couldn't quite explain she found herself dusting the top of her blouse with flour…

~*~The end of part 8~*~


Well, more to come, promise! :-)

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Moonunit