A big thank you to all who have taken the time to review.

Again, Cornishrexmomma you rock with the encouragement…

Okay, I do hope you are not disappointed with this part. In the last part I pretty much explained how Molly could win. At some point I might come back to this story in little one shots and write certain parts from Mycroft's view. From the game of 'hide and seek' to a much later part where Mycroft realizes just how much Molly means to him. It's just a thought and not sure I'll actually do it…But we will see…I've kind of challenged myself to see if I can keep things in Molly's view…yet trying to hint, hopefully more so in others just how much Molly is coming to mean to Mycroft. All that matters is I know how I want it to end and with a little time it's just getting there…Okay ,so for now, enough babbling…

Now on to the story…

~*~PART 10~*~

'…if it should ever strike you that I am getting a little over confident in my powers, or giving less pains to a case than it deserves, kindly whisper "Norbury" in my ear, and I shall be infinitely obliged to you.'

-The Yellow Face by Arthur Conan Doyle

To some it might look a bit odd to see a woman wearing a big bright and colorful sun hat simply sitting cross-legged near a grave stone all the while reading a mystery with a mischievous looking black cat on the cover that had a skull and crossbones dangling from the collar.

Molly was starting to think the victim's niece had killed the old hateful man in the book or it could be the gardener…the hateful man had been sleeping with his wife…but then she'd be highly disappointed for it had looked like the gardener had done it from chapter three. Surely, it had to be a misdirect. The gardener had to have been framed otherwise she was going to ask Sherlock, when he returned, to write the author an 'interesting' and truly scathing letter…after she found a way to get him to read the book, of course.

For only Sherlock Holmes knew how to write 'interesting' truly scathing letters to mystery authors.

John had told her how he caught him doing that once when Sherlock was supposedly bored and restless all the while demanding John to go out and buy him cigarettes and a bottle of acid so he could experiment on a hand Molly had been nice enough to give to him.

John said they were letters challenging authors to get their facts right and to stop being such stupid arse holes! Whoever Sherlock declared to be the murderer simply had to be the killer!

If the mystery writer was incredibly horrid with his or hers facts, Sherlock would declare quite vehemently that John was a thousand times better writer than they could ever be and John wasn't all that good to begin with.

To this day John was still not fond of that backhanded compliment.

Molly gleefully smiled as she heard a familiar voice saying almost sulkily that he had finally found her. Even with his tone being low and soft it seemed to carry in the well kept cemetery.

"Actually the game has been over for two hours." Molly informed him, calmingly placing her colorful cross-stitched bookmark into her book before closing it. Feeling highly satisfied with herself. "Want me to give you the actual minutes and seconds, Mycroft?"

"Show off." Mycroft muttered before glaring at her in displeasure.

Molly slowly stood up with a laugh as she brushed the back of her butt.

"Tell me, Mycroft, were you even trying?" Molly questioned airily.

Mycroft's lips pressed together tightly in annoyance was all the answer she had needed.

"You were beaten by a stupid little girl!" Molly sang mockingly rubbing it in big time, still smiling brightly, full of overwhelming happiness.

Mycroft looked away before saying, "You are not a stupid little girl."

Molly cupped a hand near her ear as if she couldn't hear a single word. It must really have hurt him to say that but she felt certain that he'd live.

Mycroft sighed heavily as if the weight of the whole damn universe was upon his shoulders. He finally studied her once more, "You bloody heard me! I'm no repeating myself, Molly! Seriously, there are some people out there that know how to win a game gracefully without acting like a child—"

"Well, if you want you can go out and become their friend! I'm not stopping you." Molly cut in with great joy. "Right now, however your one and only bestie is rubbing the fact she won IN YOUR FACE!"

With that she began to dance. Hands and feet moving randomly and freely. With no real purpose or beat.

"I won! I won!" Molly sang out. Highly enjoying herself. "Mycroft has to wash all my dishes."

"I'm starting to wish I hadn't bothered to look for you at all." Mycroft told her very dryly and in a completely deadpanned manner.

Molly laughed once more. "You never would have not looked for me, for you can't stand leaving something half finished even a small silly game of 'hide and seek'."

Instead of agreeing with her, he stated with absolutely no trace of anger, "You do realize that you are dancing upon my dear sweet brother's grave, right?"

She slowly came to a stop, panting slightly, "Just watch, when Sherlock comes back he'll probably come out here and do exactly what I was doing. Except he'll do a lot more twirling with that cool coat of his. For honestly, how many men can say they've danced on their own graves?"

"Yes, there is a slight chance that he'll do exactly that…if he thinks of it. Still it's odd to watch someone dance on my brother's grave even if it's a fake one."

"You want to know what's odd? Your brother and I are the only two people ever to beat your skinny little ass at 'hide and seek'!"

"Thank you for calling my ass skinny, I do appreciate it. So…When are you going to stop bragging about winning?" Mycroft asked almost in desperation.

"Hmm…" Molly tried her best to look as if she was seriously thinking about his question before stating with a wildly mischievous grin, "How about…NEVER? Oh, Mycroft you are going to look so delightful and cute wearing my pink kitty-tude apron…It even has classic ruffles on and around the top!"

Mycroft closed his eyes in apparent despair. "Must I really wear that?"

Molly nodded, "We did agree to those terms, so yes, also those butler like clothes of yours must be protected at all costs. It's for your own good really. Plus, I'm going to have to take your picture while you wash all my dishes."

"What ?! I never agreed to that!" Mycroft protested.

"Mycroft, think for a moment. It's just a simple, slightly silly picture. One I will perhaps need one day. Sherlock will return home and my good friend John is going to feel hurt, angry and very betrayed. He will find out that I helped in that betrayal. He will never physically hurt me but I know he will confront me…and maybe if I show it to him as he angrily tells me that we need to talk…The surprise of such an unexpected picture will give me a chance to apologize and ask for forgiveness." Molly told him with strong guilt in her voice.

Feeling suddenly sad at the thought of losing John's friendship, all because she had helped another dear friend. One Molly had actually thought she had loved. But now…Molly knew she cared deeply for Sherlock but she was no longer certain what she felt for him was in anyway romantic.

"Really?" Mycroft asked softly, carefully. "You, honestly believe that a picture of me in your pink kitty-tude apron with those damn blasted ruffles will lead him into instantly forgiving you?"

Molly shrugged, "It doesn't hurt to try…Plus, delightful picture of you in my pink kitty apron…Who in their right mind could resist that?"

Mycroft placed his hands into his trouser's pockets and studied his brother's tombstone. After a long moment he sighed before surprising her, "Okay, you can take one picture. Only one! You and John are the only people allowed to view it. After John sees it you are to get rid of the picture…"

Molly spontaneously reached out to give him a quick sideways hug. He stiffed slightly before he seemed to relax into it. An arm came up and awkwardly returned the hug before they pulled apart.

"Thank you, Mycroft! Thank you!" Molly said full of gratitude. She knew she would end up storing the picture on her phone, saving it for the day Sherlock would return and John found out about her deception.

On that day, she would get rid of the picture by sending it to John's phone with a text begging for his forgiveness.

It was in no way what Mycroft meant but then he seeing that he was in politics he should realize that if he didn't say exactly what he means than loopholes would be found and Molly was smart enough to find loopholes.

"You are welcome Molly; you are now the 'hide and seek' champion." Mycroft stated with a slight pout. He honestly still seemed to be in shock over having had lost. "So…I know you have some pink rubber gloves with daisies on them…You don't expect me to wear them to do you?"

"No, you don't have too, unless you want too…" Molly told him before biting her lip and eyeing him hopefully.

Mycroft glanced at her before looking away once more.

"Damn it…" He muttered, "I should have made John Watson be my friend…Even if he would have at first punched me hard in the face."

"Yeah…" Molly nodded in agreement and some half-hearted sympathy. "You probably should have picked him to be your bestie. Sadly, you chose me instead. So it's your entire fault really…It's all about choices…Like wearing those gloves for example would be entirely your choice. However, I plan to dirty every single pot, pan, dish, container and tea cup I own. Those soft well-manicured hands are going to look and feel very different when you are done. Those gloves just might protect those fragile, dainty and oh so soft hands of yours Mycroft…"

He shot her a look of great annoyance. Either because he knew she would indeed dirty every dish she owned just for him or he took offence to his hands being called 'dainty'…It was a mystery that Molly really didn't care about.

"You might look like an innocent angel…" Mycroft informed her, "but you really are not…You are actually an extremely cute little devil…If you had any government power at all, you'd easily bring nations to their knees."

Molly laughed, having no interest in bringing nations to their knees. Instead she shared a valued memory from her past, "My brother once told me that my beautiful demon horns were the only thing holding up my halo which he was quite certain I had stolen…So, do you want me to give you John's number? Maybe you can make yourself a fun little play date and hopefully you can get yourself a brand new bestie. Perhaps even one that doesn't kick your ass at 'hide and seek'…"

"No. Even with you kicking my ass. I don't want or need any more besties…thank you very much." Mycroft stated pompously and with great audacity.

"Aww…Are you afraid that you might enjoy having another friend? That you might end up becoming a collector of friends just like how my great aunt Agatha collected cats and gay ex-husbands?"

He studied her intently. He might have asked himself if he really wanted to know more about her great aunt Agatha…or if he would enjoy having more friends. Either way something flashed within those highly intelligent eyes of his that made Molly wish she could know what was going on in that brilliant brain of his.

She knew he spoke honestly when he informed her, "You and Sherlock are the only friends I need. Will ever need or want…"

Molly looked away as agony filled her at the sharp reminder that once Sherlock returned there was a strong chance that Mycroft would no longer need her friendship. Whatever they had, this grand experiment of he's would be over. They would be over.

He probably…stupidly, meant his words as a compliment.

"What?" Mycroft asked his tone actually full of concern.

Molly sighed and instead of telling him what was actually going on in her head she went with what was also going on in her heart.

"Mycroft…You are such a good man you really should try to make more friends. It pains me greatly to think…of you being completely alone. Anyone would be so lucky to have your friendship…"

"Why? So they can foolishly attempt to use me? I'm a very powerful man in an incredibly powerful position. Plus…Everyone else is so stupid compared to me. Out there is a world full of goldfish, Molly. Though if it's any consultation I no longer find you to be a goldfish…"

Molly gave him a small smile. "If you give others a chance…Maybe…Just maybe…you will find there are others out there who are not goldfish either…"

"Or, which is more likely, I will become highly disgusted when I find more people out there who seem to choke upon their own air."

"Mycroft…"

"Nor am I lonely." Mycroft stated before studying his brother's tombstone as if this was the first time he was actually seeing it. Perhaps it was. "Are you…lonely, Molly?"

Molly simply watched him. Standing there so ramrod straight looking elegant in that classy and highly expensive three piece suit. He looked quite handsome and completely untouchable. A hard and cold stone that was even out of place in a cemetery. It made Molly long to reach out and attempt to shatter the illusion before her.

"I use to be lonely all the time, yes…" Molly admitted honestly. "However I haven't felt that way in a long time."

In fact it wasn't until Mycroft came into her life that overwhelming loneliness finally stopped trying to drown her in a forlorn sea of isolation.

Molly knew one day in the future she'd go out for fish and chips and wish with all her heart that Mycroft was there with her. She was going to seriously miss him when he no longer wanted or needed her.

It would hurt but she'd accept and treasure the memories he was giving her. She truly enjoyed their banter, companionship and their friendship.

She never thought it possible to wish that Sherlock would take his sweet time in coming home to stay. She was a horrible friend really. For here she was hoping that the great detective that she'd do anything for, even help fake his death…That he would stay away so she could continue to selfishly enjoy Mycroft's friendship.

Though maybe when Sherlock came home Mycroft will decide to stay friends with her.

Maybe…Just maybe…

Sure and maybe she'd find that Toby had actually cleaned out his own litter box when she got home too.

Mycroft turned his head and looked at her. A flash of tender warmth filled his gaze. "I'm glad you no longer feel lonely, Molly, very glad actually…"

Molly slowly smiled as she reached out and compassionately touched his arm. She watched him relax slightly into her very light caress.

"Want to guess what I'm really glad about?" Molly preened proudly.

Mycroft looked a little put out as he reached out and carefully put his hand on top of hers.

"You won." Mycroft sighed sounding completely down trodden.

"It was your own fault really. You allowed your own egotistical pride to get in the way of the game. You didn't take it at all seriously because your pride told you that you would obviously win. You became lazy, allowing me to beat you…"

"You are now officially the only woman to have ever beaten me…You know if this hadn't been a silly game…"

"I'm certain I would have still won, Mycroft." Molly told him. She knew it would have been a great challenge but she would have hidden herself completely away so he would never have found her. Ever. Even if it had meant faking her own death…

Mycroft sighed, before stating tolerantly, "I'm very glad you are not my enemy."

"As you should be…I do apologize about hurting your pride." Molly said carefully. Knowing and understanding that no matter how fun or completely silly their game had been she still bruised his ego.

Mycroft shook his head, "Don't apologize. Perhaps I needed a little wake up call. At least, I will always win at chess and deduction with you."

Molly laughed, "True." She would allow him that for now anyway. "You know, I think I know how to make you feel in control and manly once more…"

He shot her a questioning look.

"Take me somewhere and buy me food. Seeing how I missed lunch, eating will indeed be a good thing. I read an on-line study about how men need to feel like manly men again. Women are so independent now days. Yet, if they feed their women, make them happy suddenly they feel manly once more. Men you see, use to hunt and bring home the dinner in ancient times…Though going out and getting premade food instead of attacking something with sticks and handmade knives will be more acceptable in this day and age…Mycroft, seriously you are soon going to be wearing a pink kitty apron…I think feeding me will be for your own good…"

She knew was saying that a lot but it was still true.

"For my own good…" Mycroft repeated slowly. "My wearing your pink kitty apron or my feeding you?"

"I find that to be a bit of a mystery so I don't really know but if you want when your brother returns you can ask him to solve it for us." She told him just as slowly.

Mycroft shot her another highly annoyed look that was mixed with a little bit of horror. "Sherlock will never learn about how I wore a pink kitty apron. EVER! Now with that said…Let us leave this place for I feel the need to feed you right away."

"Oh, that's the spirit, Mycroft! Taking charge and being all manly. I knew you could do it! By the way the better the food the more manly you will feel." Molly informed him happily. Not sure if the study had any truth to it what so ever but she was delighted to use the study if it involves eating some very yummy food.

Mycroft kept his word and bought her food to eat…Expensive and very satisfying food, of course.

Only Mycroft knew if he felt manly or not…

All Molly knew for certain was that she was incredibly happy and she a 'stupid little girl', who Mycroft finally admitted out loud no less, was not at all a 'stupid little girl'...She won a very important game of 'hide and seek'…

For now life was fantastic! She couldn't image it becoming better.

~*~END OF PART 10~*~