Oh, Lord, this is one of my all time favorite songs. It's just perfect. Okay, I'll calm my hippie self down now and get on with the fic...

Thank you all for your support I am having so much fun with this story. Again, remember my warnings and appreciation.

I own nothing. Enjoy ~Lil~


Chapter - 4 - The Weight (The Band)

"You have the most atrocious manners I've ever witnessed in my life," Mycroft said as he sat down. "And don't forget I have regular meetings with the Americans."

Sherlock turned to his landlady and said, "Tea, Mrs. Hudson, and I do believe my brother's blood sugar is low. Some of your chocolate biscuits would perhaps be of assistance."

The older woman looked between the brothers, bristled, then left the room in a huff, mumbling something about not believing she was agreeing with Mycroft Holmes of all people.

Sherlock sat down across from the other man and waited. It was a game as old as their relationship itself. One of them would break. Neither of them had by the time that Mrs. Hudson had returned with a tea tray laden with snacks.

"You two haven't said a word since I left, have you?" she asked after unloading her burden.

"He's the one who showed up at my flat, unannounced… he can sta…"

"This was just delivered." Shaking her head, she handed Sherlock an envelope. "I don't know where your mother went wrong with you two, but someone should have a chat with her about how you both turned out."

"I'm sure she'd be fascinated to hear your views on the subject, Mrs. Hudson," Mycroft drawled.

"You two should start a support group with our former teachers and Myc's housekeeper of the week." Sherlock gave the man a smug smile.

"Molly was absolutely humiliated, Sherlock! How could you?" she scolded.

"My wife and I were in our home, doing as people tend to do when alone. You two are the ones who barged in…"

"You heard my car when it turned onto Marylebone Road, Sherlock. That entire display was intentional. Even Mrs. Hudson knows that," his brother interrupted.

"It was certainly not intentional. We were in the middle of something," he spit at his brother, then turned his attention to his landlady. "Was there anything else you needed, Mrs. Hudson?"

She turned to leave. "Back from the dead, you'd think he'd be a bit more thankful about it…"

The brother's stared at one another for nearly two minutes before Sherlock spoke. Holding up the envelope he asked, "I assume you're here because of this?" They needed to get to the matter at hand; it was the only reason he broke first. Sherlock opened it and looked at the photos of Molly entering St. Barts.

"Am I prone to social visits?" Mycroft responded.

"Any ideas who's doing this?"

"None… yet."

He didn't believe that for a second, but played along nonetheless. "Are you even trying? It's not exactly top-level priority."

The older man sighed. "Miss Hooper saved your life, Sherlock. I am aware that we owe her a debt. I have no intention of letting this witch hunt continue."

Sherlock cocked his head to the side and sneered. "How very altruistic of you."

"I am not John. I'm not going to be petty because I wasn't included in your little magic show."

The younger Holmes laughed. "Of course, because pettiness is an emotion."

Mycroft rose. "I'm on my way to see your attorney. This newest development must be made known." He turned back once he reached the doorway. "They'll be phoning her soon. You might want to prepare her."

And with that, he was gone. Sherlock stayed seated in his favourite chair, thinking.

So it is happening. There was no stopping it now. "Damn," he growled.

Someone was coming after the Holmes men and using Molly as the means to do so. When his brother had suggested he marry Molly, Sherlock knew it was purely for his benefit (and Mycroft's as well). He wasn't delusional enough to think that the man was actually trying to help his friend ('... we owe her a debt' indeed). But now that things had started falling into place it seemed that his wife was the one in real danger. Though he was sure that he'd created the problem by marrying her.

Sherlock had blindly accepted Mycroft's suggestion as a good idea. Now he was convinced that he'd been a fool.

None of this should be happening. He was supposed to have been welcomed back into London with open arms. Molly's part should have gone largely unnoticed, forgotten. But for the fact that this unknown party had taken an interest in the undoing of Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock was convinced, all would have gone according to plan.

He didn't think it was a private citizen. What average everyday person even knew who his brother was? He had only one person of interest: Charles Magnussen, a magazine mogul who dabbled in blackmail, but this wasn't his style. Otherwise, he'd not been able to uncover an ounce of information, so that meant one of two things: it was someone within the government or someone within the government was covering up for them.

The preemptive strike of marrying Molly had played right into their hands, shown Sherlock's weak point, as it were. It was a tactical error, plain and simple, one made by both he and his brother. In the end it didn't really matter; it would have come down to Molly at some point, he was sure. She had signed Sherlock's death certificate, she'd put her professional name on the line to state that he was indeed dead. Marrying her would most likely keep her from prison, even if it made her job more vulnerable. At least this way she and Sherlock could protect one another, to some extent.

Onto the problem of Molly herself. This morning had been yet another mistake, Sherlock could admit, if only to himself. She needed a firmer hand, it seemed. And after he gave her the envelope that lay on his desk, he was certain she'd need him even more.

This whole thing was a matter of repayment, only slightly complicated by the fact that he indeed had changed in his time away. As he was preparing to return to his life, having completed his self-appointed mission, he found himself somewhat obsessed with all things Molly Hooper. It happened long before you prepared to return, just admit it, a voice in his head spoke up, but he ignored it.

She had saved him. When everyone else was doubting him, her faith in him hadn't wavered even the slightest bit. And when he had explained the plan, what it would mean for her, she had looked him in the eyes and agreed without hesitation. Even John Watson offered up protests when Sherlock came up with crazy ideas, but not Molly. This went far beyond some schoolgirl crush. In that moment he saw her strength, her spirit; he saw someone who he'd very nearly overlooked and vowed to himself that he never would again.

She never really left his thoughts for three whole years. That wasn't so hard, was it?

When he contacted his brother just before his return, Mycroft advised him that he'd been receiving threats and that Sherlock's return would complicate things, at the very least. The older Holmes was never a part of the plan. Sherlock had not contacted him the entire time he'd been away though he knew that Mycroft would have figured things out at some point, most likely after the first group of 'bad guys' were hand delivered to him by the Americans. He hadn't kept his brother out of the loop as a kindness; no, he simply didn't trust him. Mycroft had sold him out to James Moriarty all in the name of Queen and Country. This time he'd been completely on his own.

Well, completely on his own once he left the States. Sherlock's first order of business after his 'death' was to make contact with Neilson, the CIA arsehole he'd tossed out the window for roughing up Mrs. Hudson. It was shockingly easy to convince the American to see him. Once he had a very small group of CIA officials in a room, they were practically salivating at the chance he was giving them.

Perhaps that was what had brought on the change in Sherlock. Before his confrontation with the criminal mastermind, he had told John that alone protected him. Though he was planting a seed in his best friend's mind, he had meant it… at the time. But after three years of doing things on his own, he knew one thing for certain: he didn't want to be alone again.

So, onto Molly…

"Sherlock?"

He opened his eyes and looked up to see his wife, now dressed, standing in front of him. "I have to go into work for a while. Not sure what for, but Mike just phoned…"

Jumping up and startling Molly, Sherlock said, "Remember everything we've discussed."

"Yeah, I'm not an idiot. I kept your secret for three years, remember?"

Sherlock grabbed her by the shoulders. "Our secret."

"You've been so… I don't know, odd since..." She tried to shrug out of his hold, but he held fast.

"I'll be here when you get back, Molly. Promise." He finally let go.

"Yeah, okay." Giving him a strange look, she left the flat.

o0o0o0o0o

His next visitor was a welcome change from his annoying brother. Thankfully, Mrs. Hudson was out at the shops, though Sherlock was fairly certain that the woman standing in the doorway was quite aware of where his landlady was at the moment.

"Mrs. Watson, you're looking well," he said as Mary walked in, stomach first.

She smiled brightly. "It's been too long, Sherlock." After a kiss on the cheek, she sat down heavily onto the sofa. "Offer a pregnant lady a drink?"

"Of course. Tea?"

"Cold water, please."

Returning with the water, Sherlock pulled up a chair and sat across from her. "So, John hates me. He didn't take the news well?"

Mary sighed. "No. If it's any consolation, he hated me for a while too. Sometimes he still does."

"Then you shouldn't have told him."

"Trust me, it would have been worse if I hadn't." She took another drink of water. "I'm not actually here to talk about John or the beating, if you can believe it. He deserved it for the things he said to Molly."

"I agree."

"I'm here to talk about your wife."

He should have seen this coming.

"It'll take some time, but John will come 'round. He doesn't like being deceived. Molly… you need to tell her about me, Sherlock. If you don't, I will."

Standing, Sherlock paced across the room. "It's not that easy, Mary." He turned, one eyebrow raised. "By the way, Mary?"

"What's wrong with Mary?"

He smiled and shook his head as silence descended on the flat. There was nothing wrong with Mary, of course, but he knew her as Robin, an American CIA officer. A friend. This Mary, though not altogether different, was not entirely the same either.

"What's going on with Molly, Sherlock?"

"How do you mean?"

"What is this marriage, exactly?" she asked in her all-knowing sort of way.

"Protection," he answered. And it was… wasn't it?

"Mmhmm…"

"She'll be back soon, so…"

"That's my cue." She put her glass on the coffee table and Sherlock hurried over to help her up. Once standing, she said, "He misses you, you know."

"He misses the adventure. But he needs to apologise to my wife."

"I think you got that point across this morning," she said with a smirk. Patting his cheek, she smacked him a little too hard to be affectionate. "Be good to her. Don't mess her about, you hear me?"

"My, you take your job seriously."

"It was only a job for about a month before I fell in love with both of them," she said before walking out of the flat.

o0o0o0o0o

Molly arrived back not ten minutes after Mary left. She was in tears.

"I've been sacked!" she said as she walked into the flat, tossing her bag across the room. "Oh, they called it a suspension. But let's face it, I'm done!" Sitting down on the sofa, she buried her face in her hands.

Even though he'd known this was coming, it didn't make it any easier to witness. As he sat down next to her, Sherlock placed his hand on her back and rubbed. "I'm so sorry, Molly. This is not your fault."

"Of course it is! I could have said no!"

"I put you in this position, blame me." He pulled her into his lap and held her tightly. "Or better yet, blame Mycroft. It's actually his fault."

Molly pulled away. "What are you talking about?" It almost seemed like she hadn't noticed that she was now perched on his thighs. "How is this your brother's fault?"

She was too upset, he didn't want to unload information on her whilst she was already distraught - and there was no way he was showing her those damn photos any time soon. Unfortunately, he wasn't sure how to deal with such emotions; back rubs and spankings were just about the limit of his knowledge on providing comfort. Have to work on that, he thought. "Would you like something for your nerves first?"

"No, Sherlock! I don't want any drugs! Just tell me what's going on!"

He nodded and moved her back to the settee. "Mycroft warned me just before returning that someone had taken an interest in me, even in death, apparently. After three years, that seemed… strange. I had only just contacted him, he wasn't aware of my continued survival, you see."

"Why? I assumed he was part of the whole plan."

"I didn't trust him, Molly. He and Moriarity... " he sighed. "That's for another time." Standing, he shoved his hands into trouser pockets. "It seems that someone is trying to bring him down, using me as the means. He suggested that we marry in order to help each other, as I explained before."

She looked thoughtful for a moment. "He thought that under pressure, I'd testify against you, didn't he?"

"I… yes."

"And now, I'm on this person's radar and… damnit!" She stood and paced in the opposite direction.

"Molly…" He started after her.

She whipped around. "But you knew better, Sherlock! You knew I'd never do that!"

"Of course I did. But Mycroft…"

"Played you," she interrupted, a shocked look on her face.

He didn't blame her; it was completely out of character for him to let anyone - even his brother - get the drop on him like this. It gave him an uneasy feeling that his acquiescence to Mycroft's suggestion of the marriage had some hidden meaning.

"And me, apparently," she continued. "He used what he thought was my feelings for you as a means of manipulation! He… he thought this would give me hope - make me even more pliable."

Sherlock shook his head. He had already figured this out, of course, but the realisation had come too late. His brother had very little use for human sentiment, unless he could wield it as a weapon.

"I'm jobless and possibly going to prison!"

Sherlock moved quickly, taking her by both hands in his. "I'll never let that happen, Molly, you have to know that."

"So is…" She waved her hand in the air. "... all this why you're suddenly treating me like I'm an actual woman?" she asked coldly.

"No." He moved closer. "I explained my motivation this morning."

Molly tried to remove her hands from his, but he wouldn't release her. "Let go, Sherlock!"

"No."

"Why?" she asked as she stopped fighting him.

He moved his hands to the sides of her face. Using his only means of comfort (distraction, really), he licked his lips and infused his voice with as much sensuality as possible. "Because you really don't want me to, do you?"

Her eyes were moving rapidly across his face and filling with tears. Finally, she whispered the answer that he already knew, "No. I don't."

Just before his lips descended - their destination unknown even to him, though he was focused on her pert mouth - Molly stopped him, her hand gently pushing him away. "I have questions, Sherlock."

He nodded. "I know. And there's a lot more that I need to tell you. But let me take care of you first, Molly."

"Why?" she asked again.

Because I need this even more than you do, his mind answered. "Because…" he tried to find the words, but they wouldn't come.

Molly, of course, always seemed to know when he needed her the most. "It's okay," she said, anxiety written on her pretty face. "What do I do?"

He smiled and took her hand. "Trust me," he whispered as he led her to the bedroom.


As you can imagine, there is smut on the way. So, we have some hints of what's going on with John and "Mary". Like I said in my original A/N, I've taken seasons 3 & 4 and made my own changes. Please keep the comments/reviews coming. I absolutely love hearing from you all! ~Lil~