A/N: Many thanks to Mychakk for reading this chapter over. Enjoy!
"Where are you off to now?" Ava Hooper asked as she watched Molly carefully packing her suitcase. Well, one of her suitcases. Mr. Holmes had bought her an entire, posh set to go along with her smart new togs, and why shouldn't he? He was using her daughter to get what he wanted, wasn't he?
Then again, her Molly was also using him to get what she wanted. Ava was still of two minds about the whole situation, and never hesitated to let Molly know how she felt. Yes, it was lovely of them to want to help, but couldn't Molly have simply accepted a loan or something a little less…personal…than a faked engagement?
"Mr. and Mrs. Holmes have invited us for the week-end," Molly said, somewhat abstractedly as she searched through her dresser drawers for some particular piece of clothing or other. At least she'd drawn the line at allowing Mr. Holmes to purchase under-things for her! Well, yes, the silk stockings, obviously, but everything else was something she'd already owned or purchased with her new salary.
"Why can't you actually act as his secretary rather than pretending to do so?"
Molly turned and gave her mother a fond smile. "I'm not actually pretending, Mum, even though he knows I intend to pay him back in full. I do help him with his papers - he's terribly disorganised when it comes to that part of his work - and his social calendar."
"You'd do that as his fiancée anyway," Ava pointed out, then gave herself a little huff of annoyance. Nothing like undercutting her own argument!
Molly crossed the room and hugged her mother. She was wearing a new scent, one that suited her quite well. Another gift from Mr. Holmes or something she'd picked out herself?
"Mum, it'll be fine," Molly assured her. "It's all going exactly to plan. Yes, Mr. and Mrs. Holmes are bound to be disappointed when we end the engagement, but I know they'll be fine. They really just want their sons to be happy. And when it's over, Sherlock will have found me the right man, one who'll genuinely want to marry me."
Ava's sharp ears took in the slight wistfulness of her daughter's tone, and she didn't hesitate to pounce. "Are you sure that's what you really want, Molly love? Are you sure you haven't already found the right man?"
Molly gave herself a little shake and smiled, but it wasn't her usual confident smile. "I suppose you think I'm falling in love with Sherlock, Mum, but nothing could be farther from the truth. He's a fascinating man, so sharp and clever, but even if I did have feelings for him - warmer feelings than friendship, I mean - I know he doesn't feel that way about me. He's told me himself, more than once, that he's just not capable of such emotions."
"Oh my darling girl," Ava murmured, pulling Molly back into her embrace. "I knew this was a bad idea, but I went along with it because you seemed so determined, so business-like about the whole thing. But I fear your heart is going to end up broken, even if your pocket-book is all the fatter for it. It's not worth it, dearheart; please, just end it now. Mr. Holmes can find someone else to play the false fiancée." She held her daughter by the shoulders, looking sympathetically into her eyes. "Things will be tough, but we'll manage well enough. We always have."
There was a suspicious moistness to Molly's eyes, but she shook her head and smiled brightly at her mother. "It's all right, Mum, I promise. I've made my choice and I'm determined to follow through. Besides, I gave my word and Dad always said you don't go back on your word." She gave her mother's hand a squeeze, then turned back to her suitcase. "Now. Do you think the pink flowered print or the striped sailor-style dress would be better?"
Half an hour later Ava was waving good-bye from the window as Sherlock helped Molly into his roadster. The problem was that she liked the young man, despite the ridiculous ruse he'd roped her daughter into. But Molly was a grown woman, capable of making her own decisions, no matter what her mother thought of them. And her intentions were certainly honourable, although those of Mr. Holmes slightly less so. Well, more than slightly less, even if the money he was swindling out of his brother's clutches was his own.
She sighed. Well, she thought as she closed the window, at least he'd pledged to find Molly a husband who would allow her to continue her medical studies. Whatever else she might question about that young man, his admiration for Molly's intellect was certainly no put-on.
She thought back to the luncheon she'd shared with Mr. and Mrs. Holmes the day after the engagement party. It had been a relief to meet them for the first time in a more intimate setting, although no less stressful because of the need to guard her tongue. But the thought of meeting them at the same time as all the friends and relations had nearly given her palpitations, and she'd been so relieved when Molly allowed her to beg off at the last minute.
The luncheon had gone quite well, despite her tendency to drop into her lady's maid persona, at least at first. Violet had gone to a great deal of effort to put her at ease, and had been surprisingly warm and easy to talk to. And Siger was a delight, so charming! She certainly saw where their son got both his looks and his personality. Yes, it had gone quite well, much to her surprise and relief.
However, despite that, she'd declined every other invitation the Holmeses had extended to her, citing both her work and her children as her reasons. She still winced every time she remembered Violet's cheery "At the very least we'll see you at the wedding!"
No, the less she had to do with the elder Holmeses, no matter how lovely they were, the better it would be when Sherlock and Molly broke things off.
She sighed. If only she could take Violet Holmes into her confidence, as her heart kept urging her to do! It was another reason she'd decided it best to avoid her, this desire to confess, to confide in the other woman and see what she thought of the disgraceful pact their offspring had entered into. Would it make her despise Molly as an opportunistic golddigger, or - as Ava herself longed to do - would it make her determined to find a way to bring the two of them together for real?
Was Sherlock truly as incapable of falling in love as he claimed to be? And if he was, what of it? Marriages had been built on far less solid foundations than the mutual appreciation he and Molly seemed to have for one another.
"Mum!" Harry's strident voice interrupted her reveries, and she sighed as he came tumbling into the room, Henry hard on his heels. "Henry was gonna feed my goldfish to Toby!"
"I wasn't ever!" Henry protested. But he was holding the cat slung over one shoulder, and his guilty expression was easy to read to his mother's knowing eyes. "I was just trying to see if Toby had any hunting 'stincts, like in my natural history book!"
By the time she'd finished explaining why exactly that was a bad idea, Molly and Sherlock's relationship had gone right out Ava's mind.
The next time she saw her daughter, however, it was not only in the forefront, but an angry and outraged Mrs. Hooper was demanding that she cut ties with him immediately and permanently.
oOo
"I say, Molly, would you be interested in coming along with me to London on a case? It'll be jolly fun!"
Sherlock made a face at himself in the bedroom mirror. "'Jolly fun?' Good God, I sound like a bloody idiot!"
"Not that I don't agree," a voice drawled from his bedroom door, "but you usually object when I call you the idiot of the family. I must say it's quite refreshing to hear you admitting to the fact."
Sherlock turned with a scowl. "Is there a particular reason for your spying on me today, Mycroft, or is it just Thursday as usual?" he sniped.
Hands in trouser pockets, Mycroft strolled into the room, looking around with a supercilious expression. "No, Casual Spying on Sherlock is reserved for every second Tuesday, haven't you already deduced that?" He tsked mockingly. "Today is monthly Visiting the Family day. I was rather surprised to find you were here, rather than in that dingy flat you let in London."
Sherlock shrugged. "Mummy invited us up for the week-end, so here we are. But the most fascinating case has come up and John and Mary are off on their sex holiday, so…" He made a face, demonstrating either his disapproval of John being away when he needed him or his lack of comprehension as to why one needed a sex holiday in the first place.
Well, he'd soon discover how agreeable being alone with the one you loved, away from family and prying eyes, could be. Till then, a little more gentle ribbing was definitely called for.
"Thus explaining your impersonation of Bertie Wooster at his most fatuous." Mycroft nodded, while Sherlock merely gave him a blank stare. "Wooster and Jeeves, Sherlock, do keep up," his brother needled him.
"I can't be arsed to remember the names of your minions," Sherlock snapped in response. At Mycroft's discreet grin, he threw up his hands in annoyance. "Fine, every second cousin twice removed or whatever relations those two happen to be. On Father's side, no doubt, although the Holmes' hardly hold the monopoly on ridiculous family names."
They ruminated in communal silence on the ridiculousness of their own names - those of Mummy's uncle and favourite cousin, respectively - before Mycroft shook himself and spoke. "It's reassuring to see that your engagement hasn't changed you all that much, Sherlock."
When his brother raised an inquisitive eyebrow, Mycroft went on: "Agreeing to come up to spend time with the parents, only to go haring back to London first chance you get. What will you do if Miss Hooper doesn't agree to join you? Chasing down criminals is hardly the most romantic of occupations, else your happy announcement would have been made about you and Doctor Watson."
Sherlock shrugged. "The scandal certainly wouldn't have bothered me, but you might not want to say such things in front of John. He's likely to punch first and - possibly - apologise later."
Mycroft pursed his lips. "Yes, he is a pugnacious little man, isn't he. I do wonder what the new Mrs. Watson sees in him, to be frank."
Sherlock snickered. "Her favourite fairy-tale is Snow White?" he suggested.
"Whose favourite fairy-tale?" a new voice asked. Sherlock turned to Molly with a welcoming smile, hands outstretched to take hers. She paused briefly in the doorway, then entered the room and took his hands, allowing him to kiss her modestly on the cheek as she smiled a greeting at Mycroft. "Mine's always been Thumbelina."
"What, not Cinderella?" Mycroft asked, sotto voce, but Sherlock heard him and gave him a warning scowl before drawing Molly's arm through his.
"Mummy and Dad are waiting for us," he said loudly. "Very kind of Molly to volunteer to find us, thank you, Molly. But you needn't have bothered, we were just on our way down."
Mycroft stepped courteously aside to let them pass, then studied them curiously as he followed. Miss Hooper wasn't actually a golddigger, he'd never have allowed the engagement to go through if he believed otherwise, but she certainly wasn't of the same class as their own family. Fortunately for her and Sherlock both, his parents couldn't give a fig about who their sons married, as long as they were happy.
If only it was so simple for himself…but he cut that line of thought off as ruthlessly as he would an underling's insubordination. No, the family hopes for an heir were pinned on Sherlock's making a success of this engagement and the marriage that would follow.
Whatever actions it took to ensure that outcome, Mycroft was determined to make them happen.
As he followed them down the stairs, he mused on the fact that he didn't dislike Miss Hooper. On the contrary, he found her absolutely delightful, a true match for his younger brother. A woman he would have sworn couldn't possibly exist: one who accepted Sherlock for who he was, who didn't seem inclined to try to change him (although who knew what might happen after they were actually married and started producing offspring), and who was, if not a match for him intellectually, able to at least catch up more quickly than most.
Yes, a suitable match in every way. He couldn't have done better himself - and lord knew, he'd tried in the past. He winced a bit, thinking of the disastrous consequences one of those particular efforts had wrought. "But all's well that ends well," he murmured, dismissing Miss Adler from his thoughts. She'd got exactly what she deserved in the end, even if she'd broken Sherlock's heart in the process. Thankfully his brother never knew of the connection between his beloved and his brother, or his wrath would have known no bounds.
No, Miss Hooper was eminently suitable; a bit emotional, certainly a bit common along with her family, but there were so few of them that it wasn't likely to be an issue. Certainly not anything Mr. Darcy might object to. Not that Sherlock was any Fitzwilliam Darcy, but Molly certainly suited the role of Elizabeth Bennet. Quiet and shy at first blush, but a bit of a firecracker underneath it all.
Yes, despite himself, Sherlock had managed to find quite the suitable life partner. Mycroft would be sure to keep a sharp eye out for signs that his brother might be lapsing into unfortunate bad habits - bad habits his previous inamorata had introduced him to, even if Sherlock claimed otherwise. He never could stand the thought of being influenced by others, always wanted to take proud responsibility for everything he did or said, no matter how reprehensible the actions.
Had he shared any of his disreputable past with his fiancée, Mycroft wondered as they continued down the stairs to the ground floor, or had he sensibly kept his cocaine habit to himself? He suspected the latter, but only a discreet interrogation of Miss Hooper would answer that troublesome little question - and he had no interest in stirring up discord between the engaged couple.
Sherlock, he thought with a slight grimace, was more than capable of doing so himself. Yes, he'd keep a careful eye on his little brother, and quite probably enlist Doctor Watson once he returned from his honeymoon. He understood quite well how prone his friend was to danger nights. Surely between the two of them, Mycroft concluded, they could ensure that Sherlock navigated this engagement and eventual marriage - they'd not set a date yet although mentions of a spring wedding had been made - without his usual tendency toward self-destruction.
Miss Hooper didn't seem at all the type to put up with such nonsense, but only time would tell how well - or poorly - she would be able to cope with any potential relapses, should they come to her attention.
He hoped for her sake they either never occurred, or did so only under circumstances he or Doctor. Watson could easily manage.
End note: Thank you as always for your reviews for this fic. I promise you're sending them to a good home!
