A/N: Hello and sorry for the long, long gap between updates! I'm pleased to report that I've finished writing the story and will be releasing the final chapter as well :) So now more waits now! The wait is over and the game is on! Sorry I'm just a little excited at having finally finished but also very sleepy from staying up so late haha. In any case, to the precious few of you who've stuck around with me. THANK YOU SO MUCH. I wish I had more to give...but I don't. So please accept my sincere thanks for all your support. I could not have done this without you. xx

Chapter 36

"He's done it, Scott!"

Molly clapped in delight as she turned from her laptop and moved to lift her smiling baby from his play area next to her desk. With Scott in her arms, she spun about the room as though waltzing with her baby before settling him back on her lap as she returned to her seat. It was nice to be in their own space again, after having been at Ayumi's secret housing for so long.

"You see that?" Molly exclaimed as she pointed excitedly to the big, bold headline on her laptop screen. Scott merely gurgled in response as his chubby fingers tried to grasp at the animated advertisement banners at the top of the news website she was reading. With Scott just a few weeks' shy of turning a year old, he was quite an active little thing and soon tried sliding off her lap to get back to his play things. Molly let him and made sure he settled safely on his play mat before turning back to read the article.

Sherlock Holmes had done it again. It was almost two years now since he had apprehended those 'Brompton Body Snatchers*'. He was then able to connect their activity to the frightening wave of London decapitators, the files of which she had seen when Mycroft had brought them to Japan. Despite having apprehended the perpetrators of both crimes, Sherlock had sensed something amiss and had probed deeper into the links between both cases. It had taken him a few months but eventually, he had uncovered a massive black market operation that had been covertly trading in human limbs and organs.

"This is incredible…" murmured Molly to herself. "I don't know how he did it."

Just then, the little bell icon at the corner of her laptop screen began to bounce up and down in sync with the soft chiming sound that accompanied it.

"I guess we'll find out now," she said, smiling excitedly to herself.

To everyone's surprise, except perhaps Mycroft's, the both of them had kept in touch. It was not often, but regular enough. Their contact was mostly via video calls. This had been Sherlock's suggestion, reminding Molly that until Scott could start texting him personally, how else was he going to see that the boy was all right?

It made Molly smile to think of how much the detective still thought of her son, or their son, as she liked to think sometimes. It was not often that Sherlock barged into her universe without causing some sort of irreparable damage or at least cause some massive inconvenience. Yet, it was when she had least expected him to intervene that he had shown up and quite literally saved the day. There was not a day that went by that Molly did not catch glimpses of Sherlock in Scott. She found herself laughing at the impossibility of seeing the man who had no part to play in the conception of her son appear so prominently in the boy's every facet.

I think he looks rather like you, she had told him once, prompting a grunt of disbelief from the detective. Either you're running a fever or you're slowly going mad, he had replied, but not without giving her a half-smile, pleased that she had even thought so. In most of their conversations, however, Molly would find the detective beaming the moment she had Scott on her knee. Sherlock would almost forget she was there and would begin conversing solely with the baby, trying to catch his eye and desperate to incite any reaction from him. Their video calls were always such a joy. Molly even managed to catch John laughing in the background once as he watched his best friend attempt to teach the barely six-month old Scott Hooper to count.

It was about two o'clock in the afternoon in Tokyo when Sherlock's call came in, which meant it was six in the morning in London. Since the detective hardly slept, the time difference between London and Tokyo really was not that much of an issue.

"You're up early," teased Molly, smiling when she saw his face appear on her screen.
"I am indeed," the detective replied, "I've been up since yesterday."
"Wedding planning or saving London?" asked Molly, in reference to John and Mary's nuptials in May.
"We went to look at fabric yesterday," Sherlock replied, a little too enthusiastically.
"So soon after your case?" Molly asked, amused.
"We needed to pick a colour for the bridesmaids, and we decided on lilac…"
"We?" Molly remarked with a laugh. "Who's getting married here?"
"I can't help it if I have a far better eye for these things, can I?" said Sherlock in defence.
"It's not about being better or correct, Sherlock, it's about what John and Mary want…"
"And what they want is my far superior, expert opinion," Sherlock cut in.

Molly simply shook her head and chuckled, causing him to chuckle at his end of the screen on his side of the world.

"Anyway, enough about my adventures," he said.
"No, wait," said Molly, "It is precisely your adventures I want to hear about, the non-wedding ones, of course…"
"Oh. The corpse markets?"
"Yes!"
"Not yet," he said.
"Oh, sorry. I forgot," Molly remarked, remembering suddenly, "The usual?"
"Yes, please," he replied with a smile.
"Coming right up…"

Swivelling her chair to the side, Molly bent to pick Scott up again from his play area and sat her on his knee. This time, instead of sliding off to rush back to his toys, the boy's eyes adjusted slowly to the face on the screen, before lighting up in delight. Scott was beginning to recognise Sherlock a lot quicker now, and it delighted them both.

"Hello Scott," Sherlock said with delight.

From the smile on Sherlock's face and the happiness in his voice, Molly knew she would not be hearing about the mystery of the corpse markets. Not this afternoon, at least.

"When will you be moving out?" asked Mycroft, his back turned away from the door as he studied his whisky decanters.
"Have you ever once said hello to me?" John remarked, smirking by the door.

John walked into the ornate but eerily quiet room and settled himself into the familiar copper-coloured armchair in Mycroft's secret Diogene's office. He looked up at Mycroft and waited as the head of Britain's secret service poured him a glass of whisky.

"Thanks very much," said John, receiving his glass.
"So, have you found a place to settle down yet?" asked Mycroft, seating himself in his own armchair.
"You probably already have the address," John said with a laugh, "so why are you asking me?"
"You're right, I do know that you and Alicia – I'm sorry, Mary have purchased a small little house in a lovely little neighbourhood…"
"And so?"
"And so, I would like to know when you intend to leave Baker Street," continued Mycroft, repeating his earlier question. "More specifically, I'd like to know when you intend to vacate your room at Baker Street."
"I didn't know you hated me that much, Mycroft," John said, chuckling into his whisky class.

Mycroft smiled and swirled his own glass gently, studying the bronze whirlpool inside it.

"You have been my brother's saviour on so many occasions, I would never disregard you," said Mycroft calmly, "It's just, well…"
"Well what?"
"Let's just say, I will very much be needing that space," answered Mycroft, offering John a quick smile before taking another sip of his drink.

Normally, there was nothing more delightful than a call from DI Lestrade. It usually meant a body had turned up somewhere or some wonderfully rare or secretive thing had been stolen. This morning, however, it had only served to cut short his time with Scott.

"I have to go," said Sherlock, finally looking up from the boy to address Molly.
"That's all right," she replied with a smile, "There's always next time."
"Indeed," he said with a sigh, "But for now, duty calls."
"Good, you should go," Molly remarked, "Don't want you getting sloppy over a baby. What would your brother say?"
"Well," said Sherlock with a shrug, "He's never met Scott…"

They exchanged a few more words and after a few overly-enthusiastic waves, Sherlock and Scott (and Molly) said goodbye. The detective smiled pensively, clicking shut the window to their video session.

"There's always next time," he said, repeating Molly's words.

Often, Sherlock found himself marvelling at the fact that a 'next time' did exist for them. He never forgot the fact that all of this – having been sent to Japan by his brother; being by Molly's side during her pregnancy and labour; having a chance at being a family unit with them both – was one incredible second chance people like him never deserved. Yet, he had been given it all. While it troubled him that they were back to being far apart, what little space he dared offer in his heart now had them as occupants, and that, to him, was more than enough.

Molly too marvelled at the fact that she still had space in her heart for Sherlock. Having been so determined to close off that chapter and to live life focusing on Scott's and her happiness, it seemed beautifully strange that she still had a place for him. Everything felt so natural; knowing she could contact him at any time, knowing that she had left him two valuable keepsakes, and knowing and seeing that he was such an integral part of Scott's life. While Molly had long made peace with the fact that Scott would live a life without his father, she found it harder and harder to imagine Scott's life without the man who had brought him into this world.

"What do we do, Scott?" Molly murmured, kissing the top of her squirming baby's head. "Should you and mummy get on an aeroplane then?"

The baby offered no response, of course, other than trying to wriggle back down to his play mat. Molly chuckled as she put him down carefully, kissing him one more time on the cheek. Yes, it is different without him, isn't it? she thought to herself as she stared in amusement at her son reaching for his toys. She was not expecting to feel Sherlock's absence, and yet here she was, wishing things had stayed the way they were a year ago.

"Anyway, back to work," she said, settling back at her desk. Glancing quickly at the bottom of her computer screen, Molly smiled as she caught sight of their photo booth photos which she had stuck on the screen's bottom edge.

"I'll think about you later…" she said quietly to herself, averting her eyes from their smiles and back to her reports.

Sherlock had made a few more calls to Lestrade just to talk over a few more details before heading out. When he had determined the order of crime scenes he was to visit, he walked over to his mantelpiece where the skull he kept was displayed. Peering carefully at it, he checked to make sure that Molly's ruby earring was still hanging nicely in the eye socket. That had been its original home from when he had stolen the earring the first time. Now, he had the one she had given him placed exactly where the first one had been.

A quick smile appeared on the detective's lips as he turned to get his scarf. He reached automatically for the grey one Molly had slipped into his bag. A few years ago it would have irked him that it meant anything to him at all. Now, he could not see himself without it, for it was the closest reminder of the fact that he and Molly were no longer leading separate lives, and that in spite of this distance, they were somehow together.

Suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted by a voice he did not particularly enjoy and certainly did not want to hear.

"I see you're on your way to Scotland Yard…" said the voice that grated on his nerves.

Sherlock could not tell if he was more irritated at the fact that his brother had caught him by surprise or if it had merely been the sound of his voice.

"I was having such a good day," Sherlock muttered in return, glaring icily at his brother.

Mycroft remained all smiles as usual, settling himself into an armchair and blissfully ignoring the fact that his brother was quite literally just about to set foot out of the door.

"Well?" asked Sherlock sharply, tugging his scarf around his neck, "What have you come here for?"
"Oh, just ignore me—"
"Easily."
"Off you pop to the Yard," said Mycroft calmly, "I have some business here to attend to."
"Business?" hissed Sherlock, "This is my flat."
"Of which the rent is partially paid for by me," remarked Mycroft, "Your unsteady income, so to speak, makes you an unreliable tenant."

Rolling his eyes, Sherlock had decided he had had enough. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep or perhaps the interruption of his time with Scott, but Sherlock's patience was running rather low.

"I won't be interfering with your 'territory' anyway," continued Mycroft.
"You wouldn't dare," Sherlock scoffed.
"I'm here to see John's room."

That certainly was unexpected. What did his brother and John have planned?

"Whatever for?" asked Sherlock, turning to face his brother properly for the first time.
"As you know, he's moving out."
"Yes."
"And I intend to use the space," said Mycroft with a quick smile, "He's agreed and I'm here to begin preparations."
"Preparations? You're not—"
"Moving in?" Mycroft said with a laugh, "I'm not clinically insane, Sherlock."
"You're wasting my time," Sherlock said with gritted teeth, "What do you want John's room for?"
"I'm here on mother's business," answered Mycroft matter-of-factly.
"Mother? Our mother?"
"Have we another?" Mycroft asked, smirking.

The mere mention of their mother was enough to make Sherlock march out of the flat once and for all. Having his brother barge in with frustratingly cryptic conversation was more than he could bear. Knowing now that this was something involving his mother meant Sherlock wanted nothing more to do with whatever it was they had planned.

"Do what you want, or what mummy wants," Sherlock shouted as he made his way down the stairs, "I'm not getting involved…"

The door downstairs slammed shut as Sherlock finally exited the flat. Mycroft smirked to himself and got up from his armchair.

"Good," Mycroft said quietly to himself, "That's exactly where I need you to be. Not involved."

With a sharp exhale, Mycroft swung his umbrella forward as he made his way to Sherlock's former flat-mate's room. He pushed the door open with the end of his umbrella, waving away the slight clouds of dust from the room's infrequent use of late.

"This will do splendidly," Mycroft said, pleased, walking in.

He surveyed the thin patches of dust over the unused sheets and the abandoned desk. Walking up to the windows, he stared out of them then back into the room, surveying its space and its layout.

"We should be done just in time," Mycroft remarked as he pulled his mobile phone out to make a few calls.

The comings and goings of Mycroft Holmes at 221B Baker Street had been increasing in the past weeks. Sometimes, there were various teams of people who would visit the flat with him. They would arrive at 221B and then proceed straight to John's former room. Of course, Mycroft had made sure these visitations occured whenever his brother was out. Surprisingly, on the few occasions that Sherlock had been in, the younger brother, who wanted even less to do with his mother than with his brother, deliberately paid no attention whatsoever to whatever it was that was happening.

"How've you been?" John asked Sherlock. The detective had stopped by his best friend's clinic for a few medical samples when John took the opportunity to have some non-wedding related conversation with his best friend.
"The same," he answered, studying the tiny bottles he had been given. "This case isn't as boring as the last, but I expect I'll be handing in its case report by suppertime".
"Has Mycroft been in?" asked John.
"Been where?"
"Baker Street."
"Maybe. I've not really noticed…"
"He mentioned something about using my room," said John, "Any idea what he's up to?"
"Hmm, something about our mother…" replied Sherlock nonchalantly. "Which means I neither know nor care."
"Your mother? What, is she coming to stay or something?"

The detective whipped his head violently around to face John, mortified at his friend's last statement.

"What?" asked John, frowning at his friend.
"She's not coming to stay," Sherlock declared confidently.
"Okay, but what would Mycroft…or your mother want my old room for then?"

Sherlock shrugged and began packing away the samples he had come for.

"As long as she stays out of mine, I don't care what yours is being used for," answered the detective, before sweeping out of John's consultation room.

"Well, you're certainly confident about this, aren't you?" said Ayumi, her phone clipped between her ear and her shoulder as she pottered about her kitchen. Mycroft had, as usual, called her at some unearthly hour and had consulted her about his latest plans.

"My inclinations have been correct so far," came Mycroft's voice.
"Indeed they have," said Ayumi with a smile.
"Your water's boiled, by the way."

A second later, the electric kettle sounded its chime to indicate that the water had indeed boiled.

"You're not even in the room, Mycroft…" Ayumi chuckled, pouring the boiled water over her tea leaves.
"I was just trying to prove my point," he said, smiling on his end of the phone.
"You know you don't have to,"
"Well, it seems to amuse you…"
"We have time for amusement?" Ayumi asked, smirking.
"I'm…reconsidering that,"
"Let's sort your brother out first, all right?" said Ayumi with a small laugh.

His call had been a pleasant surprise, as had been his plans at Baker Street. It amused her greatly the amount of time and emotion he seemed to be investing in his brother's happiness. Mycroft had had the inkling that it was possible for things to change and had thus decided to ensure that they would. The Baker Street preparations had only been the beginning. There were more things to be done, just as there were a lot more things he could not be sure of, in spite of what his inclinations told him.

"Do you think it will happen?" asked Mycroft.
"What happened to the confidence from before?" Ayumi remarked, carrying her tea to her sitting room.
"Unlike the chemistry of boiling water, Ayumi, Sherlock and, indeed, Molly, are far from predictable."
"I think I can help," said Ayumi, taking a sip of her tea.
"You can?"
"I imagine Molly simply needs a little push," she remarked contemplatively, "And I think I know how."

The very next day, Ayumi hopped into one of her cars and instructed the driver to take her to Molly's new apartment. She had not been to visit Molly since the housewarming at Molly's new place. Molly had moved soon after Sherlock had left, wanting to start afresh now that he was back in London. When Molly's apartment block came into view, Ayumi got out of the car and made her way upstairs.

Molly had been expecting Ayumi, so when she heard the chime of her doorbell she picked Scott up and rushed to the door. The two friends beamed at one another and exchanged hugs with Scott nestled nicely between them as they did so.

"He's certainly growing, isn't he!" Ayumi said, planting a quick kiss on the baby's cheek.
"He's also moving a lot…unstoppable," said Molly with a laugh.

After settling Scott into his play area, the two friends moved to the sofa just beside it and sat down. Molly poured the tea and offered a cup to Ayumi.

"So, why this sudden enthusiastic visit?" asked Molly.
"I've not seen the both of you in a long time," Ayumi replied, "I wanted to see how you both were doing."
"Well, we're doing rather well for ourselves," said Molly, glancing affectionately across to where Scott was playing.
"Good, good…" Ayumi said, nodding, before sipping her tea.

Molly eyed her friend carefully and small smile grew on her face.

"You're not just here for a visit…are you?" Molly asked, "We have been friends for some time, you know, Ayumi. I can see when you're bursting to tell me something."

The two friends paused to laugh at Molly's words. Just as Ayumi prided herself in knowing Molly inside out, she sometimes failed to realise her friend was equally astute.

"You should join my team, you know," said Ayumi with a laugh, "Though I'm sure Mycroft would fight me hard to have you on his."
"I'm happy right where I am, thank you," chuckled Molly, "Wouldn't want the two of you fighting over me."

Ayumi set her tea down and sat up a little straighter. Looking up at Molly, she gazed deeply into her friend's eyes, smiling warmly at her. Molly could not help but smile in return, but tilted her head a little, wondering what her friend really wanted to say.

"You said, you're happy right where you are…" Ayumi began.
"I am," Molly said.
"And I believe this, I do. It's just, I feel there's more."
"More?" asked Molly, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes. More that you could be…I can't think of the word. Embracing? Reaching for?"
"You sound like a cheesy advertisement," Molly remarked with a laugh.

Before Ayumi could speak any further, Molly stopped her friend by putting her own tea down and reaching for Ayumi's hands. She held them firmly and looked up at Ayumi.

"It's been almost a year, hasn't it?" said Molly quietly.
"Yes, it has," answered Ayumi, smiling gently, "Scott's going to be one in a matter of weeks after all."
"You mentioned…more, and you know, you're right…"
"How so?"
"I want…more. And I'm beginning to feel that it's okay to want more."
"Okay…"
"I'm happy here with Scott, with you, with my work at the lab…"

Molly paused to smile pensively, as though confronting her own thoughts honestly for the first time.

"And even though he was the opposite of happiness before," Molly continued, "this past year has proven that…it isn't impossible to love Sherlock Holmes and be happy."
"It's more than possible," Ayumi remarked, "It's already happened."
"Yes…it has," said Molly, glancing once more at her baby then back to her friend.
"So what will you do?"
"I will continue to choose happiness, my happiness," said Molly resolutely.
"Well, what do you have in mind?" asked Ayumi.

Letting go of Ayumi's hands, Molly rose from where she sat and went to pick Scott up. She lifted her son up into her arms and kissed him softly on his temple. Carrying him, she returned to her seat and sat him on her lap, wrapping her arms tightly around him.

"We're going to London," said Molly, looking down at her son before looking back up at Ayumi. "And we're going to look for Sherlock Holmes."

It was far too late at night for anyone to be ringing their doorbell. Yet, here it was, ringing away like an alarm gone mad at midnight.

"What in heaven's name…" mumbled John as he flipped the bedside lamp on and stumbled out of bed.
"Maybe it's Sherlock or something…" yawned Mary, who, whilst still in bed, seemed unfazed by the rude awakening.

The couple was exhausted, what with their wedding only a week away. It was a beautiful night in May, perfect for a good night's sleep which was why the last thing they needed was for their sleep to be interrupted. John headed downstairs first, rubbing the back of his neck as he let out another yawn. Mary followed soon after and watched as her fiancé opened the door.

"John." greeted Mycroft in his typical cool, calm voice. "Mary."
"Has something happened?" John asked, squinting slightly as his eyes adjusted to the street lighting outside.
"I have a question to ask," said Mycroft.

John heaved a sigh and cricked his neck, trying to keep his composure. Mary merely folded her arms and appeared infinitely calmer than her husband-to-be.

"Did you have to ask it now? At midnight, standing at our front door?" John remarked somewhat acerbically.
"Well, I suppose I could have waited until it was light but I like to be certain of things as soon as possible." Mycroft replied matter-of-factly.
"What is it, Mycroft?" asked Mary, sensing John was now a little too angry to speak.

Mycroft cleared his throat and placed both hands atop the polished handle of his umbrella. His composure, despite having intruded at this unearthly hour, was most irksome. Still, John and Mary had the sense to entertain him and waited for him to answer.

"Have you room for one more in your bridal party?" asked Mycroft Holmes, head of the British Secret Service and one of the most powerful government officials in the country.

The couple stared back at him, wide-eyed and puzzled. It was John who regained his composure first and replied.

"Well, Mycroft, if we can find a dress for a man of your height—"
"I appreciate the thought but it is not me I am referring to…" Mycroft interjected, just short of rolling his eyes.

Stepping to one side, Mycroft turned his body so the Watson's could see the polished black car parked just behind Mycroft on their street. Mycroft gave a single nod to whomever it was in the car and when he had done so, the window to the passenger seat began to roll down.

A gasp escaped John whilst Mary beamed and clapped her hands in delight. From the window, the tired but happy face of Molly Hooper appeared, giving the couple a gentle wave. Beside her in a baby carseat was Scott, sleeping soundly.

"Sherlock's going to be…" John paused to find the right word, "he's going to be ecstatic."

Mycroft laughed gently and tapped his fingers on the umbrella handle.

"Well, that's what I'm hoping anyway," Mycroft remarked, turning back to smile at Molly.

Molly smiled back and mouthed a silent sorry to the couple, pointing at her sleeping baby as to why she could not come out to greet them in person. They nodded, understanding and unable to wipe the smiles off their own faces.

"So, have you another lilac dress for Molly or will I have to summon my tailors?" said Mycroft, returning his attention to the couple.

At his words, the couple turned to face each other before bursting into chuckles.

"For these two idiots…" John began, beaming widely at Molly again, "we'll make it happen, don't you worry."

[*See chapter 23 for first mention of the Brompton Body Snatchers]