Ten

On the morning of Boxing Day, when Molly came downstairs in the Holmes house for breakfast, she discovered that Mycroft had left without her.

"He said an emergency came up at work," said Rowena, rolling her eyes in exasperation as she spread orange marmalade over some toast. "There's always something going on with work for him and Sherlock! Honestly, those boys need to learn that work will never love you back."

After the revelation that Molly'd had the night before, such words that had only been said absently felt like a hand taking Molly's raw heart and giving it a sharp twist. She had been terrified about the prospect of facing Mycroft again with her new knowledge, but she knew that she needed to do it. She had not expected him to disappear.

"Oh," was all she could say in reply before sitting down beside Albert at the kitchen table. Seeing her downcast expression, though she tried to hide it, Albert patted her hand.

"Don't worry, my dear. It will be alright."

Looking at the kind man – whom she couldn't believe had fathered the two sons he did and still retain this patient and gentle nature – Molly knew instinctively that he wasn't just speaking of her loss of a ride back to London. And just like that, Molly understood how Albert managed to raise two exasperating geniuses – not to mention have a long and happy marriage with a "completely mad" wife (his words, not hers) – and still be such a sweet, loving and patient man.

She squeezed his hand in gratitude, and softly said, "I hope so."

After breakfast had been consumed and Molly had packed up her things, Albert and Rowena drove her to the train station, where she managed to get a ticket back to London. They parted from her with hugs, words of great affection, and a request that she kept in touch with them – which she gave them. Despite what was happening with Mycroft, Molly's heart was full with the fact that, not only did two more people share her secret, they were people she was growing to love and who loved her in return.

That afternoon, Molly went to the Diogenes Club around the time that Mycroft always came. But when she came to their private room, she found it empty. The next day, Molly did the same thing, and had the same result. Same with the next day, and the day after that. When Molly tried to call him, Anthea would always answer, saying that Mycroft was working and had a lot on his plate.

Each day, Molly's frustration and worries grew, but what could Molly do? She knew how important Mycroft's position was, being the frickin' British Government, so who was she to try and interfere in that without a very good reason? The only reason that Molly had…she just wanted to see him again! What she would do when she saw him again – carry on as if nothing had changed, confess her heart to him, or something in between – Molly had absolutely no idea. Would she know what to do when she was face-to-face with him again? She had no idea about that, either. But the thought of Mycroft not being in her life anymore was much more terrifying than any kind of life with him in it that wasn't all her heart desired.

"What a mess…" Molly muttered to herself.

"What's that, Molly?"

Glad to be taken out of her melancholy mindset, Molly returned to reality and looked at her friend, Helen, a nurse in the Burns Unit and an acquaintance from Uni. They were standing in the St. Bart's canteen lunch line, choosing between the pork and the pasta (both wisely chose the pasta), and it was New Year's Eve.

"Oh, nothing, Helen, don't mind me," said Molly hastily with a fake smile, cursing herself that she was letting her mind slip in public as well as in private now.

The two moved along the line in silence until they had paid the cashier and were making their way to a vacant table. Helen broke the silence. "Say, Molly, do you have any plans tonight?"

Molly felt a leaden weight fall into her stomach. She hated questions like this – those questions that the person who asks already has a good idea of what the answer was, but who asks anyway to be polite and cover pity. And she could remember plenty of times when such questions were asked of her, some out of genuine good-will, and others out of pure scorn. But she had always liked Helen, and she knew that the nurse meant well, so she answered honestly.

"Um…I thought that I had plans when Christmas came, but recently…no, I don't think I do have any plans right now."

And it was the truth. Molly had hoped that she could herald in the new year with Mycroft at the Diogenes Club, but considering his distance and silence after Christmas, that now seemed out of the question.

"Well, in that case," said Helen, "a group of us are having a party at the Three Griffins Pub tonight. It won't be a big gathering, since it's not a big pub, and there will be good food, good drinks, and good people. You'd be more than welcome."

Like Mycroft, Molly was not a fan of parties or big social gatherings. But this one sounded just her style – not too big, not in a club or large space, good food and drink, at least one person she would know. And frankly, anything sounded better than sitting alone in her flat with only a bottle of wine and self-pity for company.

So, with a small but genuinely grateful smile on her face, Molly said, "Sure, that sounds like fun."

"Good!" said Helena, smiling back as they sat down at a table. "It officially starts at nine, but come anytime you like. And don't feel like you have to really dress up – it's a pub after all."

"Lovely," said Molly with a smile that didn't feel as forced as she thought it would, and the two colleagues dug into their lunch.

The first thing that Anthea did when she hung up after Molly had called for what felt like the hundredth time since Christmas was heave a great sigh. Yet again, Molly had called asking if she could speak to Mycroft. And yet again, Anthea had to give the answer that her boss had ordered her to give for the time being: Mycroft his held up with a current crisis at work, and can't speak to you right now, and does not know when he will be able to get back to her.

In other words, thought Anthea, a lie. Though it is understandable why he does not want me to give him the honest reason: "I'm sorry, Molly, but Mycroft is avoiding you like the plague because he is terrified of how much he has fallen for you, not to mention he believes that you could never feel the same for him because he believes you still carry a torch for his pest of a brother." No, that wouldn't do at all…but at least she would know the truth and not sound so sad on the phone.

Of course, Mycroft had not confided in Anthea personally about any of this, but like Molly, Anthea was an incredibly intelligent and perceptive woman. Her role often required her to be silent and invisible, and her blackberry was her best disguise. To others, the gadget seemed to captivate her entire attention, blinding her to the rest of the world. On the contrary, Anthea always listened and always kept an eye on what was going on around her. Like Molly, her power laid in not drawing attention to herself.

Quiet as a mouse, Anthea went to Mycroft's office door, which was open just a crack. He'd been spending all of his free time in there since Christmas, including the time that he usually spent at the Diogenes Club. Sometimes he did indeed work, but other times he would just sit behind his desk looking miserable. Peeking inside, Anthea saw that Mycroft was doing the latter pathetically. His head rested in his hand with his eyes closed, as if battling a headache. But Anthea knew that he was really trying not to think about Molly – a task which he was not only failing at miserably, but was most likely giving him a real headache.

With that, Anthea made her decision. Enough is enough, she thought as she walked away from his office door and pulled out her blackberry. She had a call to make.

"Sir?"

Slowly, Mycroft lifted his head from his hand and looked at Anthea, standing in his now-open office doorway with a pleasant smile on her face. "Yes?" he asked wearily, praying to whatever deity existed that Anthea was not going to inform him that Molly had called for him – again- and cause him to feel even worse.

"There's an urgent Skype call coming in for you from Lieutenant Hooper. Will you take it?"

His dread was instantly replaced by surprise. He'd been expecting one Hooper and got the other one instead. But this time, Mycroft would not refuse the call, since it wasn't the Hooper he was behaving like a bloody coward about. Also, considering where Molly's brother was and that he was using valuable free time to call him as opposed to his sister, Mycroft couldn't consider refusing.

"Patch him through," he said, sitting back up and wiping his face with the handkerchief in his breast pocket – one of the handkerchief that Molly had given him the Christmas before last. He'd always worn one ever since he'd received them, and even now, he couldn't bear pushing away everything of her.

Anthea nodded with a pleased smile, and typed away a few commands on her blackberry. A moment later, the iPad in front of Mycroft on his desk lit up with the Skype alert. After Anthea had exited the office and closed the door, Mycroft answered the call. Instantly, David's face appeared before him, with a smile on his face but a determination in his eyes.

"Hello, Mycroft! Happy New Year to you, or almost anyway."

"Same to you, too, David," answered Mycroft. "I hope that you had a good Christmas, or as good as it could be away from your sister."

David nodded. "Yes, it was quite nice. On that subject, I wanted to thank you. When I called my sister on Christmas Eve, she told me what a wonderful time she was having thanks to your gesture. I'm glad she didn't have to spend the holiday alone."

"So am I, David, and it was the least I could do for her," said Mycroft, swallowing his present guilt and forcing a smile onto his face.

David nodded, and then his smile disappeared completely. "So…why, if she was so happy on Christmas, is she so miserable now? And why is she spending this holiday alone when she spent the last one in good company?"

Mycroft's attempt at a smile dropped, too, as quickly as his guilt that he'd swallowed dropped into his stomach like a lead weight. Looking at David's face on the screen, his resemblance to his sister, especially the brown eyes, was striking. Just as Mycroft knew that he could never lie to Molly while looking her in the eye, he knew that he couldn't lie to her brother, either.

His face coloring with shame, Mycroft looked at his lap for a moment before meeting David's eyes again. "That is my fault…I wish that I could give you a good reason, but all of my reasons are purely selfish…"

David nodded. "Perhaps, but quite understandable. Love is a scary thing." At the look of surprise that passed over Mycroft's face, David held up a hand. "Please don't deny it; your actions make it perfectly obvious. Everything you've done for her since your brother's death – offering her a sanctuary, becoming friends, pulling strings to bring me home for her birthday, letting her spend Christmas with you and your family – are more than enough evidence. But leaving all that aside, the glow in your eyes when you talked about her after we met…don't deny it, Mycroft."

Mycroft gulped, but held David's gaze when he answered him. "I won't…though it was only over Christmas that I realized my true feelings."

"Ah," said David, nodding in understanding. "And that's why you're avoiding her now." He paused before continuing in a more gentle tone. "What are you so scared of, Mycroft?"

Sighing, Mycroft rubbed his forehead and closed his eyes. He hadn't expected to be forced into a therapy session of sorts today with the younger brother of the woman he loved. But he also knew that it was the right thing to do; this situation couldn't go on forever.

"David…I've no right to demand more from her. I'm not the Holmes that holds her heart."

A moment of silence, and then David actually chuckled. Before Mycroft could become affronted, David spoke with a glint in his eyes. "That's not what she told me."

Mycroft said nothing in response, but his facial expression told David plainly that he needed to elaborate on what he meant immediately. So he told Mycroft about conversation he and Molly had when he'd been home regarding Sherlock. He made it as clear as possible to Mycroft that, while Molly did indeed have an infatuation with Sherlock and still cared deeply for him, her heart did not and never did lie with the consulting detective, because of the way he had made her feel about herself.

Mycroft spent the next ninety seconds after David had finished processing what he'd told him. He knew that David would not lie to him, just like Molly never would, but what he was hearing seemed too good to be true. "You are…certain, David?" he finally asked in a hushed voice.

"I know my sister, Mycroft," he answered simply. "As for how she feels about you…she's never told me that because she would never dream of telling anybody, even me, before she would tell you. But I think you are being incredibly stupid to assume without correct evidence what she feels about you."

Mycroft had no reply to this, for David was right. He looked down at his hands resting on his lap, which were still holding – and unconsciously caressing – the embroidered handkerchief.

"Mycroft, look at me."

The older man lifted his head to meet David's serious gaze.

"It's bad enough that my job prevents me from seeing my sister more than a few days out of the year, but it's even worse that there's always a chance that, every time I leave, I may not come back home alive. Molly knows this as well as I do, even though we never address that out loud. That's why I need to know that, if something ever does happen to me over here, she will eventually be okay. I need to know that she will not be alone, that she will be taken care of, and that she will be loved. You've given me that hope, Mycroft. But it won't come to anything if you won't be brave enough to be honest with Molly, and give her the chance to be honest with you."

It was exactly what Mycroft needed to hear. Within a minute of David's last words in his speech, Mycroft had sat up straight and leaned forward a bit, his gaze never leaving David's on the screen. "Thank you, David. I'll make sure she does not spend this holiday alone."

Lieutenant Hooper smiled a true smile. "Thank you, Mycroft," he said. "And good luck."

"You too, David," said Mycroft. "I'll give Molly your love."

"She already knows about that, Mycroft. What matters now is that you give her yours. Godspeed."

With one last smile, David signed off. Mycroft then lifted the handkerchief from his lap, folded it neatly and put it back into his breast pocket.

He was ready now.

As the countdown began, Molly knew that coming to this party had been a bad idea. It was bad enough that she had nobody to bring in the new year with, but that the only person she wanted to do that with – kiss and all – seemed to want nothing to do with her right now. Of course, it was completely plausible that there really was a crisis the British government had to deal with now, as Anthea kept telling her. But then, why couldn't Mycroft spare less than a minute to tell her that himself? Surely he was not so busy that he couldn't do at least that? All Molly knew that if she didn't hear from him personally soon…her fears that he was using work as an excuse not to see her would be confirmed in her mind and heart.

Hadn't she learned her lesson about parties that terrible Christmas a few years ago? Apparently not, as the countdown ended and everyone shouted, "Happy New Year!" before turning to their partner and locking lips. In Molly's line of sight, it appeared that she was the only one without a partner. Surprise, surprise, she thought glumly.

Turning away from the joyous PDA's as the small band in the pub began to play "Auld Lang Syne," Molly walked out of the pub through the glass doors at the back and into the tiny garden behind the pub. Since it was now January, the air was cold, and Molly had not grabbed her coat. So she wrapped her shawl tightly around her bare shoulders, looking down at her new, navy-blue, cocktail dress.

Serves me right for trying to dress up, she thought bitterly, hot tears falling from her eyes. It's not as if there's anybody here I want to look pretty for…

Lost in her lonely and sorrowful thoughts, Molly didn't hear the footsteps approach her from behind. But then, a very familiar and intoxicating scent filled her nostrils as she pitifully sniffed. In the next moment, she felt considerably warmer and realized that a fine winter coat of black wool had been draped over her shoulders. A coat as familiar to her as the scent, and just as beloved…which could only mean…

Turning around, Molly sighed in relief and smiled. There stood Mycroft less than a foot from her, in an immaculate gray suit and with a very vulnerable expression in his eyes. They immediately became tinged with worry when he saw the tears on her cheeks, and that changed to regret as he lifted his hands to her face.

As he cupped her cheeks and brushed away her tears with his thumbs, Molly's heart melted at how warm his hands were and how glad that she felt just to be near him again. Her own hands lifted and held his wrists, caressing them as reassuringly as she could.

When Mycroft's gaze shifted from her cheeks to her eyes, each let their gazes lie naked before the other, hiding no emotions or feelings. Within Mycroft's nervous vulnerability and Molly's relieved reassurance, there was great love that went well beyond friendship. And both hearts saw it and rejoiced.

After a moment that seemed to last a lifetime, Mycroft found his bravery. He lowered his head, his intent crystal clear, and Molly closed her eyes peacefully. Their lips connected in their first kiss. It was chaste, it was gentle, and it was glorious.

As their lips parted, the band began playing a new, slower song, obviously meant for the couples inside to slow-dance to. It had the desired effect for the new couple in the garden, as well. Quite naturally, their arms wrapped around each other and they began to sway gently to the rhythm, cheek to cheek. While their minds whirled about the great step that had been taken in their relationship, their hearts were at peace for finally recognizing their counterparts in each other.

A/N: I didn't want to drag it out until Sherlock's return, so I hope that this chapter satisfies you. :) More to come soon! I'm looking forward to writing some adorable fluff! Please review!