The aftermath of Sherrinford, and the fallout from 'the phone call' in particular were of grave concern to certain interested parties.

So when the path to true love hit a seemingly insurmountable roadblock, it became clear that an intervention was required.

It was designated OPERATION GRANDCHILDREN and as such was given the highest priority...

SOMEWHERE IN KENSINGTON – LONDON

They arrived at the location, finding without too much difficulty the entrance, cleverly concealed by a number of overgrown bushes.

From there they descended with care down a number of steep, rough steps before making their way through a series of labyrinthine twisting, turning tunnels.

"So why am I here?" Molly asked, breaking the companionable silence.

Sherlock shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. "Mycroft was vague on detail. Apparently there's an archaeological dig working down here to uncover an ancient crypt and they've discovered a body."

Molly snorted. "Crypts are full of bodies. What makes this one so important?"

"It appears to be of a far more recent vintage," Sherlock responded with a smile.

Their ultimate destination was clearly marked out with the aid of a large tent surrounded by brightly coloured 'crime scene' tape.

However not all was as it appeared. Upon entering they discovered that the tent was purely camouflage. The interior revealed a specifically designed wood-panelled circular room that was dominated by one piece of furniture, a four-poster bed placed in the centre of the room.

"What on earth!" Molly exclaimed.

The sound of movement had them both whirling around, just in time to see the door they had entered through sliding shut. It was immediately followed by the ominous sound of not one but several locks being activated.

They were trapped, with no means of escape.

An inspection of the doorframe confirming that there was no way to release either the locks or the door.

Sherlock began pummelling the wall with clenched fists. "Mycroft!" he bellowed. "Let us out of here right now!"

From a hidden PA system a familiar voice advised. "No can do I'm afraid brother dear. I'm under instruction from a higher power."

An exasperated groan escaped the detective's lips as he ran his hands through his unruly curls. "Mummy..."

"Yes dear," the kindly voice acknowledged.

"Excuse me, but what exactly is going on?" Molly asked. But though she sounded confused, her expression showed clearly she knew all too well where this was heading.

"My apologies Miss Hooper," Mycroft responded. "But this action has been regarded as necessary. If you wish to be released, you must first begin that conversation that you both seem so determined to avoid."

Molly nodded her head, and then her gaze settled on the one piece of furniture in the room. "And the bed..."

"Obvious surly," though said with the elder brother's usual haughtiness, there was no disguising the hint of embarrassment.

That was of some relief to Molly, as she felt her own cheeks become flushed. She knew that John and Mycroft had been witness to the phone call. But despite John's assurances with regards to Sherlock's heart, Molly knew she would always only be regarded as no more than a friend.

But before she could come up with a suitable response Sherlock interjected, directing his comments to the instigator of this whole set-up.

"Mummy, this meddling is totally unnecessary."

"I beg to differ. This situation cannot carry on Sherlock, something had to be done," she stated firmly.

Sherlock tried to reason with his mother. "We're both..."

"Absolutely miserable," she finished for him.

"This is ridiculous! You can't keep us imprisoned here."

"Actually I can," came the unrepentant response. "You will not be released until you tell each other how you really feel."

Sherlock's jaw dropped at his mother's audacity. "That's blackmail!"

"I prefer to see it as commonsense." Mrs Holmes replied, before directing her next words to the increasingly bemused pathologist. "What you have to understand Molly, is that my youngest son is very much in love with you, and has been for a very long time."

"Mother, please! Don't do this."

"Molly needs to know the truth, and you deserve to be happy, you both do. And time is pressing."

"Why?" Molly queried.

"Because I would like to have at least one grandchild produced before I die."

"Mummy," Sherlock growled becoming increasingly infuriated.

"Tell her how you feel Sherlock," his mother encouraged.

"Don't you think I've already tried?" Sherlock raged in anguish. "I went to her flat immediately after to explain. But she made it clear she didn't want to hear."

Molly felt tears well up hearing the hurt in his voice and noting the dejected slump of his shoulders.

"Why do you think that was?" Mrs Holmes persisted calmly.

Sherlock made his way towards the bed. "Because she doesn't believe that I do love her," he replied before falling back dramatically onto the bed.

A giggle escaped Molly's lips. The whole situation was ridiculous, but she had to admire the lengths Sherlock's family were prepared to go to ensure that they had the conversation that was long overdue. A conversation she had halted before it could begin, out of fear for what she thought Sherlock had come to say. And being the gentleman he was he hadn't pressed her. Instead he had stepped back and allowed their relationship to revert back to a semblance of what it had been before. At the time she believed that was what she wanted.

Too late she'd realised her mistake, but couldn't find a way to correct it, knowing Sherlock had enough to deal with; the emergence of emotions so long suppressed, the death of his childhood best friend, and his sister.

"I do love you Molly Hooper," Sherlock's softly spoken words broke through her thoughts. He was now sitting at the end of the bed.

Without hesitation Molly walked up to him and sat down on his lap, her heart skipping a beat at the look of pure adoration in his eyes, and the warmth of his arms as he wrapped them securely around her.

"I know," she assured him with a smile.

CONTROL ROOM – UNDISCLOSED LOCATION

As Sherlock and Molly's lips met, Mycroft flipped the switches the cut off the audio and visual feeds, insuring that they had complete privacy.

"That's all we can do. The rest is up to them," he stated firmly.

Mrs Holmes had little option but to reluctantly acquiesce.

OPERATION GRANDCHILDREN was deemed a resounding and irrefutable success with the arrival a little under nine months later of the next generation of Holmes'...