Sammykatz said: I wish you would write a story where Mycroft ships sherlolly, and is very protective of his "sister". He's very tired of John's jealousy of Sherlock going to Molly to help with the fall. Just imagine what he would do if someone like Janine or Irene threatened her. I'm in the mind they are sisters and are the real Moriarty.

A/N: Tweaked this one a bit and also made it a Victorian AU because why not? Rated K, and I wish everyone to enjoy this humble offering, even if Molly and Sherlock don't actually make an appearance in the story.


"Watson, can I prevail upon you to do something about your husband?"

Mary Watson, nee Morstan, turned to face her sometimes-employer with an arched eyebrow and an inquiring expression. When that failed to wring a further explanation, she spoke. "What offense has he given, Holmes? Is it something grievous enough to require my skills with a pistol or will a light chastising do?"

Mycroft Holmes waved a languid hand and contemplated with distaste the simple meal set before him. He had lost nearly two stone on the strict diet which his personal physician had placed him, and it was clear that his current distemper was as much due to his desire for something more substantial to eat as it was to whatever imaginary hurt John had caused him.

"He is going to find himself on the receiving end of my dear brother's temper if he continues to treat Miss - pardon me, Doctor - Hooper as poorly as he has been ever since his discovery of the part she played in saving Sherlock's life. You know, that contretemps in Switzerland."

Oh, she most certainly knew of that 'contretemps'; it was no longer a secret amongst the younger Holmes' circle of intimates, of which she assuredly counted herself one! And loath though she was to admit it, Holmes the elder had a point: John, as much as she loved him, was far too prone to carry a grudge. "So you feel my husband has been treating Doctor Hooper poorly?" In all honesty Mary could understand Mycroft's concern, since she shared it to a point. He had been very polite and formal in all his undertakings with Doctor Hooper ever since Sherlock's return, but Mary had been too distracted by her attempts to bring the two men to a reconciliation to pay more than fleeting attention to John's behaviour toward the other woman.

Mycroft, it would seem, had noticed what she had not. "His jealousy of the way my brother entrusted her with a secret he felt unable to share with your husband is quite apparent, Watson. If he is not careful, he will find that his recent reconciliation with my brother is not so permanent a state as he might currently believe."

Mary raised an expressive blonde eyebrow before raising her own fork to her lips and taking a delicate, ladylike nibble of the salad greens set before her. "I see. And might I enquire as to when my husband's treatment of Doctor Hooper became of such interest to you?"

"It's not," he replied swiftly. Too swiftly, and he knew it, judging by the return of his scowl.

"Of course not," Mary replied, just blandly enough to let him knew that she was fully aware of the falsity of his statement. She held his gaze for a moment before deliberately returning her attention to her meal. "The chef has outdone himself," she said politely as she raised her fork and took a dainty bite of the greens drizzled with oil and vinegar.

"The chef takes his duties far too zealously," Mycroft grumbled, but followed her lead.

As soon as they'd finished, Mary rose to her feet, gesturing for Mycroft to remain seated when he made as if to push his considerable bulk from his chair. "Never fear, Mr. Holmes," she said with a small smile. "I shall see to it that my husband remembers his manners when it comes to Doctor Hooper in future." As she passed Mycroft's chair, she leaned down and murmured, "After all, I wouldn't want you to feel any discomfiture regarding the woman we both know is destined to become your future sister-in-law. Especially seeing as you cherish her nearly as much as your brother does."

Mycroft said nothing, merely glowered after her until she'd exited the room. Only when she's closed the door behind her did he allow a pleased smile to cross his lips. "Well played, Watson, well played," he said with a quiet chuckle.

Bringing her into his employ had been one of the most intelligent decisions he'd ever made, as she'd once again proven by her ability to pick up on the most subtle of hints - and to form the correct conclusions thereafter. Much like Sherlock, he mused as he poured himself a second glass of claret, not waiting for the porter to re-enter the room as he assuredly would now that Mrs. Watson had left the premises.

Ah, Sherlock. The only thing standing between his younger brother and matrimonial bliss was his own stubborn insistence that sentiment was a defect. And although Mycroft knew it was his own influence that had brought his brother to that conclusion, he was also gracious enough to admit when he'd been wrong. And just as soon as Sherlock also realized that truth, they would all find themselves that much happier.

Yes, Molly Hooper was destined to become his brother's wife - and Mary Watson was the instrument to bring it all about.

All in all, Mycroft thought complacently as he finally heard the porter's discreet knock on the door, it had been a very productive day indeed.