Maybe this Time

Chapter 10 - Four AM

A/N And we're back! Thanks for the comments and kudos you lovely people. Enjoy!

Chapter 10

"Miss Hooper."

Molly eyes shot open and glanced around the room, she locked eyes on Mycroft who was watching her from the large chair seated beside the bed. "Thank you." She didn't respond for a moment; her sleep addled brain wasn't sure entirely what Mycroft was thanking her for right now. Molly looked at him through bleary eyes, a small crease forming in her brow as she processed the man in front of her.

Mycroft looked calm and collected, seated in the soft chair next to the bed, arms resting with his fingers in front of his lips and he were sat upright with his legs crossed, an ankle resting on the opposite knee. If you looked closer though, you could see Mycroft wasn't as settled as his first appeared. His eyes were stoney and his stare intense. The man of pure control had creases around his brow and slightly hunched shoulders, his lips were tight and his jaw clenched. Now they don't sound like terrible signs of a man on the edge but for this man, The Ice Man, a man so private and closed off, these were surefire signals that he was very close to the end of his tether.

Molly's face softened, the man before her who people believed didn't care for anything or anyone couldn't possibly care more. How didn't they see it? He dedicated his life to caring, caring for his brother, his brother's friends and his country. And he was tired. Tired of the pressure, tired of the strain and the constant weight of the country on his shoulders. She contemplated him, in the soft light of the lamp in the hospital room and she was completely taken in by him. Even with the stress lines and the bloody splatters this man was attractive. Maybe not in the tradition way, but Molly could definitely see his appeal. His voice along with the way he held himself was enough for her to take notice. How had it taken her so long to see how magnificent this complicated man was?

Molly wasn't the only one with an internal monologue running, Mycroft had been watching Molly for a long time. He'd watched her fall asleep holding his jacket like a life line and watched her frown, whimper and settle several times in the short time she'd been sleeping. She was extraordinary, he concluded, he'd be foolish not to think so. He owed her a debt, a huge debt as far as he could see. His brother was still alive and in one piece, and this wasn't the first time she'd stitched him up or saved his impulsive hide. And she did it all, every time, just because, well just because. Mycroft had yet to work out a motive other than some odd sentiment value and because they were 'friends'. A slight sneer hit his lips when he thought of that word. 'Friends' were rare, true friends that are. Oh, there were lots of people who considered themselves your friend and then they would reveal the reason. Be it the position of power, a favour, perks or pity. The last was his least favourite, 'pity' had no place here. He rarely met people who were kind enough to just help without the promise of gain or reward and it unnerved him. He couldn't ensure her constant support if she didn't have a weakness of greed, sin or poison.

He cleared his throat. Molly had been staring at him and analysing him for long enough. He raised an eyebrow when she blushed and stared down at her knees which were covered with the blazer. "You don't have to thank me, Mycroft."

"Molly, it is only appropriate." He had lowered his fingers but kept them interlaced resting on his chest. "You attended the event, you saved my dear brother, again. I am indebted to you."

Molly fidgeted and fiddled with a tag she had found on the inside of his blazer. "Please, it was nothing-" Mycroft raised an eyebrow and took a breath to interrupt but Molly continued, "It was nothing. I would do anything for any of my friends - John, Mary, Greg and you. You all mean an awful lot to me..." Molly stilled for a moment, her eyes resting on Sherlock's sleeping form. She stifled a yawn and moved her legs out in front of her.

Mycroft didn't respond, he stared and frowned but did nothing more. Friends and their sentiments were lost on him. He was the British Government, she could request anything right now, anything, and he would ensure she received it. And she wanted nothing. She dismissed saving Sherlock's life as somewhat of a regular occurrence though he hated it he supposed it rather was. Mycroft shuddered, he'd hate for anyone to think this is normal. He needed to pay her back, one way or another.

Molly had stood and rubbed her arms, she wondered around slightly and took a closer look at Sherlock's wound. John had done a good job with the stitches, he shouldn't have much of a scar now. "Dr. Watson and Mrs. Watson have gone home. I suspect the doctor will be back in a few hours, Mrs. Watson was adamant he needs to get some rest now they knew Sherlock was 'safe'." Molly hummed in response, noting the infliction. John could be ridiculous sometimes, of course, Sherlock was safe. Mycroft wouldn't let anything happen to him if he had the power to prevent it so John's lack of trust was a little offensive. Molly would give John a piece of her mind if it wasn't for Mary. Mary had her ways and she took to soothing John enough to get him to see sense, sometimes. Molly gave a soft snort at that thought and smiled at Mycroft whose eyes had glazed over with thought. Dr Watson is still very angry I involved you in this mess, why is that?

John is a little over protective, it s part of his appeal. Molly smiled, The few people he loves dearly are all in terribly dangerous positions ninety-nine percent of the time, he tries to limit it where he can. Mycroft watched her silently, then Molly continued, No, Mycroft, I don t have feelings for John, nor him me, in case you wondered. He s just a wonderful friend. Now, it s your turn then." Molly handed him the blazer back and gestured to the sofa. "You need to rest-"

"No, thank you. I shan't be sleeping here." He threw the chair a grim expression. "Once Sherlock is up, which is he will be soon to cause more aggro, I have things to attend to."

She huffed through her nose and folded her arms, rolling her eyes, "Fine, stay awake but at least move to the sofa? It's my turn to sit and stare at him from this angle." She gave a loose smile but pushed no further, he'd move if he wanted to and he doesn't seem like the type of man to appreciate the 'pushy mother' approach. She turned to face the younger brother and rested on the side of his bed.

He was exhausted, switching chairs wouldn't help him and he certainly wasn't going to sleep, but it was easier to just agree for now. 'I m getting soft...' He stood slowly and made his way across the room but instead of heading straight to the sofa he stood next to her watching Sherlock. She could feel the heat of his body next to her as they looked on. "I'm not in love with him, you know," Molly said softly, she smoothed the blanket to the side of her. She felt Mycroft's form stiffen as if holding his breath to hear the quiet words she mumbled to the room, maybe to herself more so. "I know people think I still... fancy? Sherlock but..." She hesitated, "I haven't been smitten with him for a long time...I'd do all this again in a heartbeat because it doesn't matter, it really doesn't, I do what I can because I like to help my friends..." She had no idea why she felt she needed to share this right now, four am has always been a perfect time for quiet secrets and rare moments.

Mycroft remained quiet, he'd observed for a while now that Molly wasn't infatuated with his brother any longer. She used to be a mess whenever he came by, throwing herself in his path as much as possible and pining after him like a lost puppy. But now, no, she had moved on. She was completely at ease now with him, Sherlock was lucky, most people find their ways difficult to be around but he'd found several people who accepted him for exactly who he was. Since Mycroft put very little into the friends heading he wasn't sure how he felt when she added him to hers. A concern he did have was would Molly Hooper always be around if she didn't swoon over Sherlock? He hoped since she held friends in such high regard that that meant she wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

He was broken from his reflection by the sudden realisation that someone was crying. Miss Hooper was still sat on Sherlock's hospital bed but now tears moved down her face as she stifled a sob. His face creased but not in the usual sneer, if anyone had been looking he might have looked in minor pain, but really he had no idea how to deal with women crying and thankfully his line of work rarely called for it. He obtained his handkerchief and held it out to Molly who gave a wet smile and began mopping up her face. They both continued to stare at Sherlock as if not making eye contact could free them from an intimate moment. "Thanks... I'm being silly, I think I'm just tired-"

"You have been through a lot tonight. Everyone else who attended in our party was some sort of trained killer," He raised an eyebrow at Sherlock, "or at least so self-absorbed the effects of events don't bother them." Molly gave a huffed sob and another smile. "You, however, do not do this kind of work. To be experiencing shock is expected." With that Molly took what she saw as a massively huge and impossible leap, she leant her head into Mycroft's side as he stood watching his brother. She felt him stiffen and relax. 'Thank god, he could have just thrown me out of the room.' A smile reached her lips and her tired eyes closed. It looked awkward because the bed was a little lower than where she'd have liked but she wouldn't move now unless another attack was about to happen. Mycroft, despite himself, lifted his arm and placed it on Molly's shoulder.

The scene through the hospital CCTV looked what can only be described as 'cosy'. Athena smirked, Mycroft being civil and volunteering any form of physical affection was basically a sure fine sign for a more permanent arrangement. She hadn't missed the moment behind the curtain earlier that evening either. She took a look at Molly, she didn't really see the appeal but if it made him happy...

A text was sent.
'Give me a chance to buy my hat and I'll send the invitations out. -A'