Maybe this Time

A/N Chapters are getting slightly longer now which is nice :) Let me know what you think x


Chapter 11

After what felt like hours Mycroft insisted Molly joined him on the sofa and they could both keep a watch over Sherlock more comfortably. In the early morning sunrise that had leaked through the night, both felt vulnerable and open, but not unpleasantly so.

Like the shroud the night offered was still upon them even though a new day was dawning and life would have to kick back in shortly. Molly had her head resting against Mycrofts shoulder, bodies pressed alongside each other, both parties aware of the close proximity of the other but neither feeling the need for space right now. Her eyes were closed and a soft snore escaped her lips, in the passing hours Mycroft had also drifted off, despite his previous plea that he would stay awake and tackle the next day head on. He had his head resting on top of Molly's and she had the blazer draped over them both. The scene to any on looker would have baffled them, these two lone figures from opposite ends of the Sherlock spectrum shouldn't be, what could only be described as, 'cuddled up on a sofa' together. They should be stiff and rigid, only exchanging words when the younger brother needed them too. But no, here they were, and they couldn't have looked more 'right'.

Mycroft's eyes shot open the instant he felt the air in the room change, such a light sleeper he was, and it had saved his life on more than one occasion but it had ruined his night's sleep on more than he cared to count. He was aware of several things when his accessed his surroundings; for one Sherlock was finally coming too and for two, he had a lovely young women pressed against his side who was still asleep and three, which shocked him more than anything, was that under the blazer, Molly Hooper had wrapped her arm around his and entwined their fingers. He was holding her hand as they slept. He stiffened and his breathing shallowed. Had he done that? Surely not. Molly must of, in her sleep, of course. Yes, that was it, there's no way Ice Man subconsciously welcomed such proximity and reached out to the first person who had been so close in years.

Mycroft closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He took in all the scents that were Miss Molly Hooper and memorized the warmth of her body pressed to his. He then tried to untangle himself from her without waking her. It was getting on for seven am, the Watsons would be back shortly and John was already preparing some sort of verbal attack, it would do no good to add fuel to that fire.

When he final stood and stretched his cramped muscles he heard, "She has a remarkable ability of comforting someone, even asleep." Sherlock hadn't moved but his eyes were open now.

Unsure of how long exactly he'd been being watched, Mycroft replied nonchalantly, "You would know, brother mine. You've stayed in her flat enough times; with or without her knowledge." He adjusted his waist coat and shirt and smoothed his hair, it doesn't matter that it was covered in blood still. "Why is it you've taken to breaking into her flat?"

Sherlock's eyes creased and he looked towards the sleeping pathologist still resting on the sofa, he took a moment before answering as if deciding which answer was best. He went with the truth and a thoughtful observation, but he wouldn't go down alone. "Don't deny feeling it, she's like an anchor. When things get…" He wouldn't never say 'too much', he wouldn't admit that sort of weakness here, "…Heavy, she provides some sort of 'calm'. She's so normal, plain. Ordinary but not boring. She watches crap TV, has awful furniture and the creature she calls a pet. Everything with her is so simple." 'It's a form of safe escape.' That was unspoken but the brothers felt it. She was special, for a reason neither really understood. They watched her a moment. Sherlock cleared his throat, uncomfortably aware that even though he tried to avoid it he'd opened up a little too much. Time to bring back the equilibrium. "And if it's not for that, sharing her bed is 'fun'." The last sentence was said with the pure intention of goading Mycroft, he'd raised an eyebrow and smirk hit his lips. Mycroft flushed, a jealous bubble rose inside him and he wanted to thrash his brother for being so uncouth about the whole affair. His nostrils flared and eyes narrowed, "Molly has made it very clear that you only enter her bed looking for comfort, dear brother. Don't try to play games with me, not after your stunt last night. You could have gotten you and your little team killed."

Sherlock looked away like a child who'd been denied a biscuit, rolling his eyes. "I'm curious why that came up in a conversation and I assume she never clarified what 'comfort' was-" He mumbled, "Sherlock." Mycroft warned but he continued, "And besides, it worked out in the end. A lot of the terrorist unit was taken down last night, any that did escape will be busy recuperating for months now to get those numbers and influences back. They're rattled." He moved a little too passionately and winced as the stitches pulled. "Molly made a terrible job of sewing me up."

Mycroft sighed and rolled his eyes, "It was your Doctor who did the honours so have it out with him, Miss Hooper focused on stemming the bleeding and keeping you alive. Speaking of your Doctor, he is less than pleased with you and your behaviour, do brace yourself, there will be trouble in paradise." He gave a tight smirk, as Sherlock seemed to sink a little, and looked at his phone. He read Athena's text and rolled his eyes, this woman was thorough. Good for the government but terrible for any remnants of a private life he might have.

'Instead of planning fantasy events why not forward me what you have on the attack last night? – MH' As he slipped his phone away it bleeped instantly.

'Spoil sport – A' accompanied a large email attachment. He rolled his eyes once more but began to scroll through the data. He gave a heavy sigh, nothing more to add than he already had assumed or knew. Sherlock was right, last night had cleared out a lot of the big names in the terrorist unit and had fast tracked what would have been a six month to eighteen-month plan.

Just as Mycroft placed his phone away footsteps came down the hall, John Watson was looking exhausted and if Mycroft was right, which he always was, he hadn't actually slept at all in the last few hours. He had showered, not shaved, and then paced around until Mary had gone to bed and she was still there now. "Ah, you're awake, great. How are you feeling?" Sherlock opened his mouth to respond but John carried on, "Good – now, bloody hell Sherlock! What were you playing at?!" He dropped a bag on the bed and shifted the blanket to look at the wound. "I want to throttle you." He mumbled as he prodded and poked the stitching, Sherlock said nothing but let him do what he needed to. "Has anyone had a proper look at this?" He glanced to Mycroft who raised both eyebrows, "Of course he hasn't let anyone look at it." John sighed heavily, and pulled the single seat chair to the side of the bed and began cleaning it up once again. "I don't care what's going on with you and Molly, Mycroft, could you keep her out of it next time?" He carried on working and missed the lift of Mycroft's chin as he looked down his nose at his brother, who's face creased.

"If Molly is willing and will be a valued asset in operations, why would I exclude her?" Mycroft fiddled with his cuffs, "We discussed this last night Dr Watson, she's a big girl, she can answer for herself." Truthfully, Mycroft and Sherlock both hated involving the young woman like this, but needs must and if anyone tried to tell him what to do, well, good luck to them. Molly will be an agent by next week if John kept this game of protector up. Mycroft glanced towards the woman in question as she had come round in the last few moments and was now making small mewing noises as she stretched and opened her eyes. Her eyes feel on John and Sherlock, then over to Mycroft, she gave them all a tired smile and shuffled to a more upright position.

"Look, boys, I love you all dearly, but if you keep up this 'damsel in distress' chauvinistic bull' I'll be mightily annoyed." She managed through a yawn, "Mycroft's right, I am a grown woman who opted to help and will continue to do so when I can." John went to interrupt but she glared at him, "I get it, but I don't need protecting or whatever it is you think you're doing. I'm fine now. And I'll be fine next time too." She stood and smiled, giving John a quick shoulder squeeze and a kiss on the head. "I'm going to find the tea machine, back shortly." She put the blazer on and as she passed Mycroft she placed a hand on his arm and smiled, then continued out. His face remained neutral but he didn't pull away, sneer or frown. He turned to Sherlock and locked eyes, the challenge was issued but refused as he said nothing on the moment that had passed between them. Molly had looked adorable in his blazer; much too large for her but it suited her to be wrapped in something of his.

Molly was achy and stiff, and still covered in the blood from last night. Now Sherlock was up and well, that much was obvious from the crossed words of the three boys, she could head home shortly and soak in the bath for the day and cuddle Toby. The poor thing had been alone for ages now, he'll have surely vomited on her bed and wrecked the sofa some more, the stroppy creature. She thought about the last few hours with Mycroft and couldn't shake the warm glow that fluttered in her chest. He had been soft and delicate and mostly human. The cuddling on the sofa for the last few hours had been the highlight, though she thought she might have pushed it when she held his hand. But she wasn't banished from the hospital or thrown in the tower so it couldn't have been entirely unwelcome. The test now was to decide whether it was only acceptable in that moment of total vulnerability while they bonded over the concern for the brother in the bed or whether this would be a regular occurrence without the need to stab Sherlock every time she wanted to have him near.

She had found the tea machine; PG Tips would have to do for the highnesses back in the hospital room. 'Want to have him near.' That was a wakeup call, she wanted Mycroft near. She wanted to hold him again and be each other's pillar of support. She felt safe and content with him and his snarky, stuffy manner and wondered whether he felt the same? He hadn't out right rejected her or made any move to remove his blazer from her person, so all good signs, right?

She placed the last cup under jet and gathered enough milk pots and sugar for a small army. God knows how they took their tea when they were stressed. Molly always had more sugar and too much milk if she was feeling overwhelmed, she imagined John did too. But Mycroft and Sherlock? Well, who knows how these unique men responded. She ferried two cups back to the room, John and Sherlock took the first two, and went back for the other two. Just was she reached the door, the lift doors opened and out came D.I Lestrade looking ruffled.

"Molly!" He pulled her into his arms, "Thank god! I nearly lost it when I heard you'd ended up there last night! You're alright though, yeah?" He pushed her back and took a look at her. He placed his hands either side of her face and smiled. "You nearly gave me a bloody heart attack Mols'…" He rested his forehead on hers, he was really sweet. Molly blushed under his gaze, he was a good friend. Maybe a little too friendly right now, she felt there might be a conversation brewing, but for now, his concern was touching.

"Greg, we're being watched." She pulled back and he looked over at the window of Sherlock's door. Mycroft was not so subtly glaring at the display the pair had put on. "What's his problem?" Greg muttered through gritted teeth as he smiled in his direction. Molly looked uncomfortable and cleared her throat. "I have his tea." She offered weakly. Greg laughed and headed towards the room.

"Detective Inspector." Sherlock greeted, John gave a nod as he sipped his tea and Mycroft stood back, bristling in the corner. "'Just came to gather some facts before we let out the cover story." Greg spoke to John and Sherlock about the turn of events while Molly handed Mycroft his tea at the back of the room. He hadn't taken his eyes off of Greg since he walked in, his posture stiff and positively radiating. He glanced at the tea and took it, giving a small nod and relaxing ever so slightly as he sipped the black sweet beverage. Lucky guess on Molly's part he'd want sugar. She placed a hand on his arm once more but this time his eyes shot to the contact and then up to her face. He looked thoughtfully at it then back at the other men in the room. He frowned at Greg once more then looked back at Molly, he slowly shook his head from side to side. But not in a 'get your filthy hands of me', it was more of a 'not now'.

At least she hoped it was.