A/N: Well, here we are, finally at the end of another WiP. My thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing, and wish me luck in finishing up some of my other WiPs!
Treat him well, he is your brother
You might need his help some day
We depend on one another
Love him, that's the only way
Two Days After The Wedding
Rosie and Danny, newlyweds and expectant parents (when will people realize, Sherlock thinks disgruntledly, that he's rarely wrong in his deductions?) have left for their honeymoon. Lestrade is somewhat dazedly trying to come to grips with the idea of being Grandpa, with Janine happy to both console him and very enthusiastically help him demonstrate his continued youthful vigor. The ex-wife, whose name Sherlock has never bothered to remember, is already on her way back to Australia, happily planning baby showers and adding a nursery to her house for future visits.
The question about Rosie's parentage has been resolved, exactly as Sherlock had also deduced it would be: John is her father. He's over the moon, as is Mary, and it's no surprise when he announces that he's going to be stopping in Greece for a while. "So Mary and I can get to know each other a little better," he tells Sherlock just before he and Molly are scheduled to fly back to London.
With a little finagling, Sherlock's managed to not only get them on the same flight home, but sitting next to each other as well. First class, of course; only the best when it comes to using the credit card he'd nicked from his brother during his last visit.
His feelings are decidedly mixed, which is something he's not used to. On the one hand, it's probably for the best that he isn't Rosie's biological father, but on the other hand, he's oddly disappointed in that fact. On the other other hand, as Molly herself would put it, his new relationship with his pathologist fills him with elation bordering on giddiness at times.
Oh, he'll do something to muck things up, he always does, but until Molly ultimately gets sick of him and leaves, he's determined to make the most of it.
He tells her that, quite seriously, when they're seated on the plane and each holding a glass of wine.
Her reaction's unexpected, to say the least: she laughs. "Sorry, I'm not laughing at you," she rushes to assure him, placing her hand over his and squeezing lightly. "It's just, you know, relationships. They have their ups and downs, and who knows what the future might bring? I mean, it's possible you'll just wake up one day and think, all right, the experiment's over. I've been in a relationship, time to move on to something else. Or you might just get bored. Who knows? But you mustn't start off expecting the worst, not this early on! Or it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy."
Her smile falters a bit. "Unless, of course - you're already having second thoughts, now that we're on our way home, back to our real lives? I wouldn't blame you if you were, I understand completely if that's the case, of course I do, it's all right…"
Before she can work herself up any further, he leans over and kisses her. Quite thoroughly. "Not changing my mind, Molly Hooper. Just trying to be…"
He hesitates, and Molly says, "Kind?" just as he says "Realistic."
"Well, let's save the future for the future," Molly advises him. "Let's just enjoy what we have now, and see how things go, shall we? Instead of second guessing ourselves this early in the game?"
Sherlock fixes her with a serious look. "It's not a game, Molly, I promise you that much. Not a game, not an experiment, not me making fun of you or pretending I feel something for you just so I can get better access to the labs, nothing like that. It's just me and my…feelings."
This time she starts the kiss, and they spend the rest of the trip home holding hands, sipping wine, snacking on cheese and crackers, and planning out the next set of actual experiments he's been mulling over.
Her enthusiastic participation in those plans remind him exactly how right she is for him. Maybe he won't completely screw things up between them after all. Only time will tell, and in this case it's best to leave the future to the future.
The past, on the other hand, requires some of his time - and a visit to a certain busy-body of a family member shortly after they land is definitely called for.
"Try not to give him too much of a hard time," Molly urges him as he helps her into her cab, after he explains why he needs to see his brother right away. "I'm sure he just did what he thought was best at the time."
Sherlock hums noncommittally, kisses her good-bye and watches until the cab vanishes from view. They'll be meeting for dinner tomorrow night, so they have some time to settle back into their normal lives (as normal as their lives ever get), and he knows that Angelo will be thrilled that he's bringing an actual date to the restaurant for once.
He settles into his own cab and off they go, back to London proper, stopping outside the Diogenes, where Sherlock pays the driver and tips him a tenner to wait for him.
Mycroft is in his office, obviously waiting for him. "And how was Greece?" he asks.
Sherlock ignores the question, dropping into the chair opposite his brother's desk. "I know you already knew," he announces, somewhat ungrammatically.
"Knew what?" Mycroft asks, as if he didn't already know the answer. Of course he does; he's Mycroft Holmes, he always knows.
"That I'm not Rosie Morstan's father."
"Oh, that," Mycroft replies with a dismissive flick of the wrist. "Hardly worth mentioning."
"Which is how I knew you knew," Sherlock says. "You didn't even blink an eye, just got Molly set up to run the DNA tests and expedited the results without demands for explanations or attempts to use the request as leverage to get me to work on one of your boring government cases. So you already knew it wasn't me."
"Yes," Mycroft agrees. "Well deduced, little brother." His tone is only mildly mocking.
Sherlock folds his arms across his chest and glares at him. "Why?"
Mycroft considers asking 'why what' but decides against further antagonizing his younger brother. "Because I had to be certain, once I was alerted to Miss Morstan's 'interesting condition', that there were no arrangements to be made. Financial arrangements, that is, as you were certainly in no position to take on familial responsibility for either a wife or a child at that time. And after a certain number of years had passed with no signs that Miss Morstan intended to pursue any inquiries into her child's parentage, it seemed unnecessary to inform you of the situation."
"I trust you'll be able to keep your nose out of my current relationship," Sherlock says after taking a few seconds to digest that response.
He's gratified to see Mycroft's eyebrow lift in what (for him) passes as an expression of surprise. "Have you impregnated Miss Hooper already?"
Sherlock scowls; so much for the surprise. Mycroft's just playing him now. Just like always. "No," he grumbles. "Deduced our relationship from my request to have her run the tests, did you?"
Mycroft shakes his head, leans back in his chair, his expression quite smug. So smug even the thickest idiot could see it. "Not at all, brother mine. I knew before you left on your impromptu vacation to Greece that you were starting to develop 'feelings' for the good doctor." He wrinkles his nose in distaste as he speaks the word both brothers once disdained. "Sentiment, Sherlock, is not your friend."
"What would you know about friends?" Sherlock shoots back, on firmer ground with this familiar argument. "You've never had any."
"Thank goodness for that," his brother replies. "Having witnessed how much of a problem they can be…" He gestures at Sherlock's cheek, where the fading bruise from John's punch still shows.
Sherlock waves it away. "One day, Mycroft, I sincerely hope you'll discover how empty your life is, with only your work and the mild irritants that are your family to keep you company."
"My family," Mycroft says firmly, "are hardly 'mild' irritants. But," he concedes, "they are important to me. All of them." He looks Sherlock squarely in the eyes, and his brother nods acknowledgement of the truth of those words. "That now includes Miss Hooper, in case you were wondering."
"I wasn't," Sherlock says, then pauses and adds, "but thank you." He jumps back to his feet, ready to leave as abruptly as he'd arrived, then pauses as Molly's words come back to him. "Thank you," he says again, reaching across the desk so his brother, visibly startled, can shake his hand. "I mean it, Mycroft. Thank you."
"You're quite welcome," Mycroft says, and smiles. The brothers will always have their moments of irritation with one another, but perhaps…perhaps they needn't be one another's nemesis any more? Only time will tell. "Save the future for the future," he murmurs with a soft, reminiscent smile, then turns on his heel and heads out.
Why wait until tomorrow to take Molly to dinner, when all the settling in he needs to do has been taken care of? He smiles as he texts her, and smiles even more when she sends back her response: 'Yes' followed by about a half-dozen exclamation points, a smiley face, and a heart.
Without even thinking about it, he sends a heart back to her, hops into the cab, and sends it to Molly's address rather than his own.