DEAREST, a fanfiction by Hrlyqin

CHAPTER 10

for Roxanne-Michael (happy holmesidays!)

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After their conversation, Sherlock did not speak from his brother for a week. He did receive several text messages which he took as another sign that he and Mycroft got along better from a distance. But the texts never hinted at where he was or what was going on. No one had any idea when he might come back. Then, abruptly, Sherlock came home one day to find him sitting in the living room.

"Mycroft." he said by way of greeting as he came in the door. If he was surprised, he did not show it.

"Sherlock." Mycroft said in the same tone. He was reclined in one of the chairs by the fire place. The younger Holmes brother removed coat, gloves and scarf before sitting opposite him.

They each sat in silence for over a minute, testing the waters of their new cordiality before Sherlock asked if he could go first. Mycroft inclined his head in acquiescence.

"While it's not really a deduction to say you've been abroad, I can tell that among your destinations were Italy, Spain and Greece. You have traveled on a boat in the last 48 hours and on a train in the last two weeks. You have expended a considerable amount of your diplomatic connections in this hunt and you have not learned anything significant about Moriarty's whereabouts or intentions. Yet, you feel like it was worth it. Also, you've gained 7 pounds. Your turn."

"Detective Inspector Lestrade has obtained permission to once again seek your aid in cases. You've spent most of today investigating a jewelry store robbery. You are pleased with the work but angry that John would not join you. You had a fight with him today about money and are concerned that he is going to spend the night with Claudia or Sophie or, saints forbid, go back to Sarah, as it was hard enough for you to break them up the first time."

"Amateurish. None of those are difficult facts to figure out. I am a genius, John is quite annoyingly attached to the normalcy of going to work, paying his bills and the like. Sarah Sawyer is the female equivalent of tepid tea. John can do far better."

"Like you?"

"Wrong. John is entirely heterosexual. Look at his wardrobe."

"But if he were so inclined..."

"Don't change the subject, Mycroft."

"Very well. I did spend time in Italy, Spain and Greece. Those locations alone explain the weight gain, which is hardly a relevant fact. I was able to locate Sebastian Moran but as it turns out, he was not really inclined to speak with me so I do not have any new information. As there was no point in keeping him alive if he was not going to speak, I found he was much more useful as a token of my retaliation and yes, it was extremely satisfying."

"You did it yourself?"

"I did."

"Interesting." Sherlock thought about the numerous possibilities. "But what about Moriarty?"

"I am sure between the two of us, we can uncover a solution." This time, Sherlock did seem surprised. Mycroft may have gloated about that as he rose from the chair. "I am making arrangements for Molly to move into a nice terrace house, rather like this one actually. She'd need to be settled before the baby is born so it should be rather quick. And Sherlock? Try to be gracious to her."

He was going to ask what he needed to be gracious for when he realized why Mycroft had remained so still during their conversation. "You're hurt."

"War wounds. It's nothing."

"You've been stabbed."

"Yes."

"And shot."

"Yes."

"What happened?"

Mycroft gave his brother a thin smile, one that didn't reach his eyes. No, instead, his eyes shone with a strange glow. "As you deduced, it was worth it."

With that, he let himself out and headed home. He had asked his assistant to be there waiting for him. Since she had sent him regular reports, there was not a lot to catch up on but he wanted the pleasure of actually seeing her. Travel had given him time to think, and there were things he thought needed saying. Per his instruction, Lindley had seated her in the library and Mycroft allowed himself to enjoy observing her as he approached.

She had also put on some weight but it suited her, making her beauty more soft and real instead of hard and sharp. He supposed it was due to her chef boyfriend but he tried not to think too much of that. Her hair was pulled back and rested on her neck, inviting the eye to linger on the curves of her skin.

"Hello Callie."

In a strange reverse of etiquette, she rose and stayed standing until he was on the sofa. When she sat, it was on the same piece of furniture as him but the distance was one that he noted.

"Your meeting with Molly went well?"

"Yes. She agreed to the house. I think she feels safer with close neighbors, and the fact that those neighbors may not be civilians is not a fact I felt it necessary to discuss."

She smiled and he continued, emboldened by it. "I want to thank you, for the care you've shown to her while I have been gone. I know it wasn't easy. I know that your feelings are... complicated."

He reached out across the gaping chasm between them and attempted to capture her hand. His fingers brushed against hers and he had just long enough to absorb the sensation (light talc, expensive lotion - violet scented, nails done professionally - french manicure) before she pulled away.

"Mycroft, I need to talk to you."

This was not going as he had planned.

Maybe he could subvert it?

"I'm getting married."

No, not as he planned at all.

"I know my timing is terrible, and I'm sorry. The wedding isn't until April, at the earliest, but I don't think it's appropriate for me to work for you anymore. Given our history."

This may have been the least according-to-plan situation he had ever been involved in.

That didn't involve Semtex.

"I've compiled a list for you of qualified replacements. Background checks are in progress for the top three."

He pressed his lips together so stiffly that they formed one thin slash on his face. "I don't get a say in this?"

"No. I'm sorry. But you don't."

Sherlock reserved a small part of his brain to ponder what he needed to be gracious about while he solved the case (woman impersonating heiress switched the real gemstones for fakes), sifted through emails from the website and continued his ongoing experiment of pouring exactly four liters of milk down the drain daily (testing John's reaction to how quickly their supply diminished). He was still giving thought to the problem days later when he heard a gentle knocking at the door.

He started to call to John to get it when he remembered he wasn't home. Sherlock was forced to abandon his perch and get the door himself.

It opened to reveal Molly, accompanied by a cardboard box and the cat. Remembering that he was supposed to be gracious for something, he attempted small talk.

"Hello Molly. I thought you had moved."

"Nearly. You should see the new house. The bathtub is gigantic. Not that I was, erm, inviting you into my bath. I just meant it's nice." She sucked on the inside of her cheek nervously. "May I come in?"

He stood aside and allowed her to enter. She was such an exquisitely twitchy person. It was especially remarkable that she walked only a few steps inside before turning to face him again. When she spoke, her words rushed out like a geyser.

"I've been talking to my doctor a lot and doing some reading. A cat and an infant aren't always the best combination and there's the danger of suffocation, fleas, bacteria. Even if the cat likes the baby. Which I know Toby would. But I know I need to put my baby first with things..." she hiccuped out a little cry. "I didn't know what I was going to do but then you've been getting on so well. I really really put a lot of thought into it and it's the best solution."

He hadn't been able to follow any of that. Was this what it felt like to be Sgt. Donovan? Since he didn't know what was going on, he simply waited for a better explanation.

"I want you to take Toby for me."

"What?"

Molly was now thrusting the cat into his arms where it stuck its nose into his open collar.

"See? He likes you. This way I know he won't be lonely."

Sherlock opened his mouth, then closed it. Be gracious.

"Thank you." he tried. Was thank you appropriate? "I'll take good care of him." he added.

She looked happy so he guessed that was right. Sherlock let the cat down so it could explore it's surroundings, watching it slip into the kitchen.

"So I brought his dish, and his food, and his box...Mrs Hudson cleaned it out so there's fresh litter."

"I've heard they can be toilet trained."

"Oh...um, yes. I think they can be."

Sherlock accepted the box and set it on the table for John to go through later. Since Molly was lingering (and weeping), he was trying to assemble a gracious request for her to leave when her sad whimpering turned into a shriek of pain.

He turned to see her half sit-half fall onto the couch. Her face was contorted horribly and her hand sought out then clutched at her stomach.

"Molly?"

"Sherlock." she said through grit teeth. "Please go get Mrs. Hudson."

"Are you...in pain?" He was trying to absorb as much information as he could.

"I think I'm going into labour."

"Labour for a first time mother can take an average of 20 hours. Did you know that humans have the largest head in relation to pelvis size of any mammal?"

"Sherlock. Get. Mrs. Hudson." Her free hand sought and gripped the arm of the couch. "Please."

"If you feel as if your water might break, you should move to the chair. John is very fond of the couch."

"MRS. HUDSON!" she yelled.

It took a minute but the landlady popped up the stairs and quickly assessed the situation in the upper flat.

"Oh dear. Is it time?"

Molly nodded and allowed Mrs. Hudson to help her up and get her moving. Strangely, she didn't ask Sherlock to help but only asked that he ring Mycroft and let him know what was happening. Like an expert, She had Molly and her hospital bag packed up into the car in no time.

As he stood by the window and watched them pull away to head to the hospital, Sherlock reflected on the correlations between he and his brother at the moment.

Mycroft got a son.

He got a pussy cat.