Author's Note: Well, well, well. My little one-shot turned into a full-blown story, much to my surprise. I hope you've enjoyed watching Mycroft's machinations as much as I've enjoyed writing them. Please leave a review if you have a chance. I'd love to hear your thoughts! – Ella

Chapter 8: Dinner with the Holmeses

Mycroft had selected the restaurant, which Molly thought was unfortunate. It was a much more formal setting than she would have preferred. Still, it was his turn to pick up the bill and that meant he got to choose where they went. Sherlock claimed to detest these monthly "family dinners," but she and Alicia agreed the brothers secretly enjoyed each other's company more than they would ever admit. Alicia, with her serene demeanor, intelligence, and wit, provided a fine buffer between the two men; and she was always kind and gracious, almost motherly, towards Molly. For her part, Molly had finally gotten over being intimidated around Mycroft, but even a year into her marriage to Sherlock, she still found her brother-in-law stiff and aloof. But she knew he meant well.

After they'd ordered, Molly leaned against Sherlock and squeezed his arm. "We have news," she said excitedly to the other couple.

"You're expecting a bouncing bundle of joy," Mycroft announced categorically.

Molly looked stunned. "H-how did you know?" There was no way she was showing this early, and even if she did have a minor "baby bump" (which she didn't), how could they possibly spot it under the baggy jumper she was wearing?

Sherlock glared at his brother, sure a copy of the ultrasound had been added to Molly's MI-5 file.

"Don't concern yourself with that, dear," replied Alicia smoothly. "Congratulations to both of you. That's wonderful!"

"Yes, congratulations," said Mycroft brightly, giving his thin-lipped smile. Molly always thought it seemed out of place on his face, but she had no doubt he was happy for them.

"Have you thought of a name?" Alicia asked.

Molly beamed. "It's a boy, so we're thinking of Matthew, after my father."

"Matthew Vernet Holmes," Sherlock amended, putting his annoyance aside for Molly's sake. "Wouldn't want to leave Dad out in the cold."

Alicia nodded approvingly. "Those are both lovely tributes." She laid her hand on top of her husband's. "Don't you think so, Mycroft?"

"Yes, very fitting." After giving his wife's hand a brief squeeze – an ostentatious public display of affection by Mycroft's standards, he reached down and pulled a package from the briefcase at his feet. "And apropos of your joyous announcement, here." He placed what was obviously a book on the table between them, wrapped in pink and blue paper.

Molly picked the book up. She could feel through the wrapping paper that it was hardbound and surprisingly heavy for its size. "Um, thank you?" she said, befuddled. Was he just carrying this around, just in case? She shrugged inwardly, having long ago given up trying to understand the mysterious prognosticating powers of the Holmes brothers.

Sherlock glanced at the book, which Molly had only begun to unwrap. One glimpse of the dust jacket's corner told him all he needed to know. "The Hobbit," he pronounced definitively. "A collector's edition, signed by J.R.R. himself. Auctioned off last month to an anonymous buyer." Molly gave her husband a pointed nudge. "Thank you both," he added with more warmth, flashing a brief grin. "Don't worry, we won't be letting the baby and his sticky fingers near this anytime soon."

"But we'll read it to him," Molly quickly assured them. She lightly traced her finger from white mountain peak to white mountain peak along the dust jacket. "You know," she mused, smiling, "this was one of my favorite books growing up."

Sherlock sent his brother a sharp, hostile look, which Mycroft answered with a knowing smirk. Molly, her eyes on the gift, did not notice the exchange, but Alicia saw it and was greatly amused.

"Heroes, villains, magic, dragon slaying – we thought it was very fitting material for the child of Sherlock Holmes," said Mycroft.

"And a powerful wizard who sets the plot in motion. Pulls the strings, as it were" Sherlock noted wryly. "Very fitting material for the nephew of Mycroft Holmes as well."

"Indeed," said Mycroft solemnly. "One might argue Gandalf is the real hero of the story."

"But Bilbo does all the legwork," Sherlock countered.

"As I recall, defeating the dragon was a team effort," Alicia chimed in sagely. "In any case, it's a wonderful tale to stir a child's imagination. And when he's older, if he likes it, Matthew can move on to The Lord of the Rings trilogy."

"Yes!" said Molly eagerly. "Gosh, I read those novels so many times. I always loved the Ents. And I had a bit of a crush on Faramir. But I felt sorry for poor Gollum."

Sherlock smiled fondly at his wife. "Of course you did," he said in that deep, rumbly voice that was code for 'You're adorable and I'm going to kiss you senseless the minute I get you alone.'

Molly blushed and returned her eyes to the book. Alicia graced all assembled with her benevolent smile and sipped her wine. Mycroft cleared his throat and tried to look imperious, but secretly he was quite pleased. Sherlock was safe and loved, Molly was expecting, and he had managed to make a very fine alliance of his own.

This whole goldfish business wasn't so bad, after all.