"What the devil did you slip in my drink, Sherlock!" Mycroft shouted as he helped Molly stumble into his study late Christmas Eve.
"You weren't supposed to give her your drink!" Sherlock replied back accusingly at his brother. "Now she's high and you aren't!" He stated in a pouting and irritated manner.
"Why on earth were you trying to drug me?" Mycroft turned to his brother as Molly stepped away. Sherlock caught her around the wrist so she wouldn't run off.
"Let go Sherlock!" she cried, tugging at her wrist to be released. Sherlock rolled his eyes and let her go. Molly stumbled backwards. Mycroft caught her from falling over completely before gently setting her upright. She gave him a sloppy smile of thanks.
"For one hour of your miserable life you could have been merry and bright," Sherlock expressed angrily into his brother's face. Molly walked around the room with her head up as she toured the study and examined the light fixtures above with awe and wonder. "Now she is getting your Christmas gift!" He ranted while Mycroft looked at his brother as if he had just grown another head.
"Do I need to call an ambulance?" Mycroft fretted as Molly just stared at the chess board on his desk blankly. "Is she going to die?"
Sherlock scoffed at the offence, "I spent three months getting that formula just right. She will be uninhibited for exactly," he checked his watch, "58 more minutes and then she will get a migraine type pinch in her brain for thirteen seconds and then remember nothing of the previous hour."
"You made a truth serum," Mycroft accused openly, "To find out what? Your Christmas present so you could cheat?"
"And now I can't!" Sherlock griped as he waved a hand at Molly who was petting the black knight chess piece lovingly, "And you don't get to experience this!"
"Why on earth would I want to be high?" Mycroft demanded his brother finally answer the question.
Sherlock didn't back down, "You have three stomach ulcers and get stress headaches every day," Sherlock listed as his brother shut his eyes not denying it, "It's Christmas, Mycroft, one hour of not carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders is long overdue."
Mycroft pinched the bridge of his nose.
John entered the room, drunk and slurring his speech, "Tharr you two are," he stated and then smiled.
"John," Sherlock stated warningly and then drew a breath as if to find patience, "I told you not to do anymore shots."
"Tis Christmas!" he waved his arms around merrily. He stopped before he fell over. "Molly!" he cheered excitedly as he moved over to where she was examining the chess board.
"Do you want to play with me?" Molly asked hopefully as she steadied John when he almost fell over when he reached her.
John reached up his hand and put it on her shoulder, "I have a piece I want you to play with," he said salaciously.
Molly took a step back and gave him a look of disgust, "Ewe," she stated as she turned to the two Holmes brothers for help.
Sherlock swooped in and grabbed John. "I will take Casanova home before he pukes on your carpet," he smiled as John stumbled with him out of the room, "And you have fifty-four minutes until the clock strikes midnight and Cinderella forgets the hour prior. Cheers!" He said sarcastically as the two men made their exit.
Mycroft let out a sigh of frustration. Molly came up quietly to Mycroft, "Will you play with me?" She asked as she offered the black knight to him.
"Do you even know how to play, Molly," he asked patronizingly.
Molly rolled her eyes and let out her own huff of frustration. "You Holmes brothers think you are so smart," she crossed her arms over her chest. "But you are really, really not."
"Okay," Mycroft conceded as he took the piece from her and set up a chair across the desk so she could sit. "If I win, you have to do what I say for the rest of the hour, deal?"
"If I win, you have to do what I want for the rest of the hour."
"Agreed," Mycroft smiled. "What color would you like to be?"
"Black," she stated, "so you don't think it's because I went first is why I win."
Mycroft laughed and the game begun.
They moved pieces quickly across the board. "You actually do know how to play," Mycroft furrowed his eyebrows in concentration, "and quite well."
"You sound like all the boys that I have ever played with," Molly countered and took his knight. She kept it in her lap and pet it occasionally. "Do you even know how to play chess?" she asked mockingly before she took his queen.
Mycroft was scrambling to make a move that wouldn't result in a pyrrhic victory or a complete loss altogether. After three more moves, it was clear that she had won.
"Okay," Mycroft stated slowly, toppling his king over, "You win." He sat back and scrutinized the board and her clever use of tactical advance.
Molly smiled. "That was fun. I like your horsey." It was stated with such a childlike wonder that Mycroft couldn't help but smile.
"The knights are also my favorite pieces. I only bought this board because I like the intricate designs on them," he revealed to her as he handed her the other white knight.
"I've always wanted a horse," she lamented quietly. She let the moment of admiring the carved horses pass and then handed them back to Mycroft. "Thank you for playing with me. I haven't had a match last that long in very long time."
Mycroft looked at the clock. It had only killed eleven minutes. "Another game?" He suggested. "Best two out of three?"
Molly shook her head. "No offence, Mycroft, but I like playing with someone a little more challenging."
"You were going easy on me?" he asked incredulously.
"I wasn't supposed to tell you that," she confessed with wide eyes. "Aunt Margret doesn't let me play unless I let them win."
"What?" Mycroft asked with confusion. "Why on earth wouldn't she want you to win?"
Molly got up and stood on the chair and then pointed a finger menacing at Mycroft as if he were Molly when she was younger, "Molly! No playing chess if you can't let them win! Boys don't like that! How are you ever going to get married if you can't learn to always let the boys win!" Molly placed her other hand on her hip and began again on a different topic, still mimicking her aunt. "Molly! Stop reading those books! Men won't want a woman who is smarter than they are!" She shifted her hands again still repeating what she had been told when she was younger, "Why aren't you wearing a dress? How to you expect to get married if you always insist on wearing those hideous pants?"
Mycroft stood up and circled around the desk to help her get down safely. "How about we get you down from there?" he said offering two hands to help ease her back on solid ground.
She still pointed at him and shook her finger at him, berating him like her aunt did to her, "Ladies should not be doctors, that is a man's job. You should be a nurse or a school teacher."
Mycroft wrinkled his nose in disgust. "I'd like to have a few words with your aunt and set her straight about how she's setting woman's suffrage back a few centuries."
"She died last week," Molly said soberly. "I just came from her funeral." She noted as she looked down at the black dress she was wearing. "I wore this to appease her, even though she never approved of me."
Mycroft helped her down and settled her on the couch. "You had her funeral on Christmas eve?" He asked incredulously.
Molly nodded. "She insisted. I was never very good at standing up to her, even though I didn't obey her very well."
"The dress does look nice on you," Mycroft tried to comfort her in some small way, even though most of the dress was hidden beneath a buttoned up cardigan.
"You should have gone with the blue tie," she suggested to Mycroft as she fixed the knot on it. "You didn't have time so you grabbed this one. You ended up tying it poorly," she frowned and straightened it up. "There."
"Yes," he stated with awe, "How did you know that?"
"You double knot your left shoe because don't like bending down to retie it during the day because your psoas is short on that side. That would explain the low back pain you get when walking or standing for any period of time and why it hurts to go up stairs or sleep on your hip at night."
"What?" Mycroft stated dumbly.
Molly rolled her eyes once more. "Honestly, you boys think you are the only smart ones on this planet. I am surprised neither of you figured out I'm smarter than you."
"Oh?" Mycroft asked, shocked. "You think that you are smarter than I am?"
Molly nodded then got up and walked around the room again.
"What is the square root of 2304?"
"Forty-eight," she quickly answered.
Mycroft ran a hand through his short red hair and cursed lowly to himself.
"How many languages can you speak?" Mycroft asked next.
"All of them," she stated in Latin as she found the stereo remote and turned it on. "Will you dance with me?"
"If you'd like," he answered and got up to join her in the middle of the room. He spun her around to the upbeat song with a flourish. "You've had lessons."
"So have you," Molly chirped back at him. "My aunt insisted."
"I bet she did," Mycroft retorted sourly. "I am sorry to hear that she has passed." He offered her his condolences. "I am sure losing a loved one this time of year is difficult."
"She raised me," Molly lamented again, "I don't have any more family left. Dad died five years ago. Mum when I was eight. Aunt Margaret was tough, but," Molly smiled, "I know she only meant well."
"I'm glad you joined us tonight," Mycroft said honestly.
A slow song came on and Mycroft held her close. "You smell nice," he stated with his nose brushing against her hair. "You always smell nice."
"I can help with your headache if you'd like," Molly suggested when the song ended.
"That would be nice, thank you."
She motioned for him to sit in his desk chair.
"I'm going to undo your tie, and your shirt so I can get to some muscles. Is that alright?" She asked like only a physician could. Mycroft nodded and let her slowly undo his tie. Her small hands made quick work of relieving him of his suit coat, waist coat and tie. She unbuttoned his shirt midway down and then asked that he untuck it so that she could more easily work on him. He complied.
She slowly and gently worked his upper shoulder and along his neck until the muscles released. "Your upper trapezius and splenius muscles impinged the occipital nerve. It gets sheered when they are as tight as yours. Is the pain around your eyes dissipated?"
"How did you know…?" Mycroft began in wonder, but then stopped. "Yes, I no longer feel any pain up my neck or around my eyes."
"Good, next let's get you over to the couch," she instructed. Mycroft rolled his neck a few times to check his new range of motion.
"That feels so much better," Mycroft said half to himself and half to her. He sat on the couch, amazed at how quickly his headache had vanished.
"You smell so good," Molly commented as she picked up his sport coat and smelled it. She came around the back of the couch to smell his neck. Mycroft held still and just let her lightly nuzzle along the side of his face.
"Thank you," he replied. She rounded the couch and quickly straddled him. His eyes bulged. She nuzzled along his neck some more. "What are you doing, Molly?" His hands were up in the air and he just sat there very still while she inhaled deeply along his neck and down his chest.
"I can't place the scent," she explained with a puzzled tone, still gently smelling him. Her nose trailed along his jaw, down the pulse of his neck. He swallowed hard. "Maybe if I tasted it," she whispered, "I could figure it out." She nipped along his neck softly and Mycroft's eyes rolled back into his head and he let out a low moan.
"Molly," he spoke lowly as his breath hitched, "I don't think that is a good idea."
"Why?" she asked innocently, "You taste just as good as you smell." She trailed more kisses from his collar bone and up to his ear. As she nipped with her teeth, she felt Mycroft's hands slowly make their way to her waist. They hesitantly roamed over her back as she continued her ministrations of sucking on his ear lobe. He moaned again.
Then he swiftly picked her up and placed her on the couch beside him and shot up. "No! NO!" He ran a hand through his hair frantically. "Molly, no!"
"What's wrong?" she asked innocently. "Don't you like me?"
Mycroft let out a long exhale. "I do, actually, very much. I have for quite some time. I just know that you like my brother and…"
Molly laughed playfully. "You think I am in love with your brother?" she let out a few more giggles. "Of course you do, or my cover would be blown."
"Cover?" Mycroft asked with confusion, "I don't understand. What cover?"
Molly explained simply. "Pretending to be in love with Sherlock afforded me to hide better. No one would suspect me of such high intellect if I was just a love sick little girl." She began to unbutton her cardigan. "Plus, I didn't want him falling for me," she wrinkled her nose. "Playing the love-sick sycophant was the easiest way to avoid that. Even your egotistical brother found it appalling. It was the perfect way to hide in plain sight."
Mycroft just stared at her with his mouth agape. "Huh?" was all he managed to get out after Molly placed her cardigan with Mycroft's suit coat on the back of his desk chair.
"That is the dress your aunt insisted you wear to her funeral?" Mycroft asked incredulously. The low cut, very revealing top of the black dress was highly inappropriate for such an occasion.
"Thus the cardigan," Molly said with wide eyes. "My aunt was well off and made sure that there were many a single bachelor at her wake due to the holidays. Even in her death, she insisted on trying to get me a man."
"That dress is…" he trailed off just staring once more at Molly in a very revealing dress with a full back cut-out. A lot of her skin was exposed and Mycroft swallowed hard once again.
"Completely ridiculous, I know," she remarked. "But it is rather hot in here, so I hope you don't mind."
Mycroft shook his head. "No, no, I don't mind at all. But Molly," he said she came up to him and fiddled with the buttons on the front of his shirt. She delved her hands along his chest hairs.
"Hmm?" she asked without looking up at him. Mycroft closed his eyes, indulging in the moment as she unbuttoned yet another button down his shirt. She nuzzled into his chest and throat and placed another hot kiss at his sternal notch.
"No," he said without meaning it much, "No!" he said more firmly taking hold of her arms and holding her at arm's length. "You don't know what you are doing." He accused openly.
She smiled up at him. "Don't I?" she asked back.
Mycroft let out a huff of frustration. "I don't want you regretting your actions tonight, even if it means that you won't remember them."
"Such a gentleman," she broke free of his light grip and ran her fingers up his arms. "You have always been nothing but nice and polite to me. It's one of the many things I like about you."
"Oh?" Mycroft asked quietly, "besides how I taste and smell?"
She nodded, "But I think I like that best." She moved closer to him and he didn't retreat. "And the way you feel." She ran her hands over his chest once more, then along his neck. Her fingers laced into his hair and he moved to let her do it more easily. He groaned as his eyes rolled back into his head once more. "Let's move over to the couch so that I can kiss you properly," she whispered in his ear before nibbling at it slowly with her teeth and lips. Mycroft indulged for a few long seconds as his hands roamed along the exposed skin of her back.
"Yes," Mycroft agreed looking at the clock. He had just few more minutes before her hour was up. "But let's dance first."
"Mycroft, you said you would do whatever I wanted," Molly reminded him as she reached up his shirt to touch the skin on his lower back.
"I will," he promised, "Just one dance first, please?" he used his best asking nicely voice.
"Are you sure?" She asked, raking her nails along his back slowly.
No. "Yes," he replied as if he meant it, "then I will sit on the couch with you. Promise."
"Alright," she acquiesced and he led her to the middle of the room to slow dance with her once more.
"I've liked you for a long time, Molly," he confessed into her hair.
"That, I honestly didn't know," she stated quietly, "You hide it well."
"If my brother had two coherent brain cells that even remotely communicated with each other, he would be able to recognize you for who you really are."
"Oh?" She asked as she swayed next to him, "Who is that?"
"You are kind and gentle," he listed, "before anything else, you are always nice to everyone, no matter what. As brilliant as you are, that always remained a priority to you. It is a huge part of your character that you never held your intelligence over anyone." He nuzzled her throat with his nose. "Sweet Molly," he kissed along her neck before coming up and placing a hot kiss against her lips. His movement was slow and methodical. Molly eagerly responded as the clock struck the hour marking that their time was up.
She retreated suddenly, hissing in pain as she winced. He brought her over the couch so that she could recover while seated. He wasn't sure if she was going to pass out from the pain.
Once the pain stopped, Molly opened her eyes wide and blinked. She looked around the room, gathering all the information slowly as she came off the high.
"How did I get to your study?" Molly asked as her hands splayed wide against the couch. "I was drinking with you and John and Sherlock in your living room just a second ago." She looked down at herself after seeing a nearly half-naked Mycroft. She quickly covered herself with her hands then made her way over to her cardigan on top of his suit jacket.
"Molly," he had both hands in the air with his palms towards her, the universal sign for meaning no harm, "Please sit, I will explain."
She buttoned up her cardigan faster, not taking her eyes off him.
"We played chess?" She asked or stated hesitantly.
"Yes," Mycroft nodded as he answered.
"I don't remember," she stated quickly. "Why don't I remember?"
"Sherlock drugged the drink he gave me. I let you have mine while his back was turned getting ice for the drink he was going to make for you," he explained slowly.
"How long was I out of it?" Molly asked as she looked at the clock. "A whole hour or a day?"
"Just an hour," Mycroft remained still so that she wouldn't feel threatened. "We just talked after we played chess. And danced. You fixed my headache and then," he hedged to go into great detail about the rest but needed to give a reason for his odd attire, "you began to undress me."
"Did I?" Molly asked, shocked. "Then, what? You undressed me?"
"No, you took off your cardigan," Mycroft corrected, "Before you…" he couldn't complete the sentence. "Maybe we should talk about this later."
"Oh no," Molly agonized as she clasped her hand over her mouth, "I didn't!"
The look on Mycroft's face said it all.
"How embarrassing," Molly stammered as she made her way around him to the exit. "I think I will see myself out now."
"No, Molly, please!" He gently grabbed her arm to turn her around. She wouldn't look him in the eye. "Don't go," he begged softly. "Not yet."
"This isn't right," she jerked away, still avoiding his eyes.
"No, you're right, it isn't," he agreed. "It is one big mess. But I intend to clear it up for you, if you will let me."
She didn't say yes or no, so Mycroft continued.
"How about we go to the living room, by the fire and exchange gifts?" Mycroft suggested. "I will make you a drink that doesn't have any drugs in it and tuck in my shirt. Please?"
Molly closed her eyes as she thought about his proposal. "If I agree," she stipulated, "will you drive me home yourself. I'm not sure I have quite recovered and don't want to call a cab home." She rubbed the side of her face as if remembering something awful.
"Yes, of course," Mycroft easily agreed. "How about we both have tea? Or eggnog? I have apple cider and coffee if you prefer."
"Can I have a hot cocoa?" She asked sweetly and innocently like a child. He nodded and he ushered her into a spot in the living room and promptly made her a hot cup. She took it in both hands and finally looked like she was once again back at ease.
She handed Mycroft his presents. One was a small box, and the other flat and rectangular. He opened the smaller box first. A tie clip and cufflinks with his family's crest and seal adorned them brightly. He marveled at them for quite some time before remembering to thank her. She gave him a shy smile in return. Next, he opened a framed picture. It was a black and white photo of him and his siblings seated on a bench outside his house. Sherlock was smoking his pipe, slouched with one leg up dramatically over the other, Mycroft was in the middle with his forearms on his knees leaning pensively towards the camera with a cigar in one hand, and Yuris sat back with her long arms across the bench with a cigarette between her finger as she blew a smoke ring high up in the air. Each one of them had a smoking vice in their hands, but no smoke actually clouded anyone's face in the frame. It was an amazing shot of him and his siblings. He remembered that day that Molly took it.
"My gift is not nearly as thoughtful," Mycroft lamented to her aloud. "These are perfect. Thank you."
He got a head nod and another shy smile from her. He reached under the tree to pull out a small rectangular light blue box with a white ribbon on it.
"I didn't think I would be able to pluck up the courage to give this to you tonight," he offered the small box to her.
Molly had a look of awe on her face. She opened the box with a diamond necklace and matching earrings set. "Mycroft," she whispered softly as her hands brushed over the white diamonds. The shock of such a clearly romantic gift surprised her. He took the box out of her hands and got the necklace out.
"May I?" he asked with hands posed to put it on her. He clasped it around her neck and then offered her the earrings to put in. He took her hands in his, got her up to her feet and brought her over to the framed mirror by the fireplace. He stood behind her as she admired the jewelry in the reflection.
"I," Molly began, "I don't know what to say," she whispered breathlessly.
He swept her hair to one side and then pulled her closer to him. He leaned down and nuzzled her neck with his nose as he swept from her shoulder to her ear. Molly closed her eyes to enjoy the moment. One of her hands snaked around to his hair to encourage him in his ministrations.
He turned her around and briefly held eye contact with her before placing his lips fervently on top of hers. High Molly and Sober Molly both met him with equal eagerness and passion. His kiss was slow yet firm and Molly responded in kind to his every touch.
Eventually they broke it off to come up for air, smiling at each other and holding each other close.
He led her over to the couch and she sat in his lap and leaned her head against his shoulder. She played with the tuffs of hair on his chest.
"You kicked my ass at chess," he stated in a low rumble.
Molly laughed, "And then you let me kiss you?"
"Mmm," he concurred. "I probably shouldn't have," Mycroft admitted aloud, "but you wouldn't take no for an answer."
"Twist your arm, did I?" she stated as she placed soft kisses along his neck.
He grunted in return. "How didn't I see how intelligent you were before?" Mycroft wondered with a low voice as Molly nibbled his earlobe.
"I didn't know you even liked me," Molly stated as she repositioned herself to straddle him. She unbuttoned her cardigan and threw it off on the floor. Mycroft's hands eagerly ran possessively over her back.
"Merry Christmas, Mycroft," Molly whispered as she put her forehead to his.
"Merry Christmas, Molly," he whispered back before pulling her lips back on top of his.
…