Sorry this isn't getting the everyday treatment like the first one. I've just started to redecorate my front room, so it's taking up a lot of my time XD
I really appreciate the lovely words and patience you have for this very busy writer :)
~0~0~0~
Faye placed the small bag on the floor, flopping into the chair as Molly sat slightly more gracefully across from her. The small pub table was in the corner of the darkened room and had two menus propped in a holder in the middle. Faye pulled one out, flipping to the lunch menu.
"... I said that the cause of death was a simple heart attack, there was no reason to question it." Molly was saying, "And then Sherlock told me to stop thinking like a four year old and pointed out that there had obviously been some sort of chemical reaction due to the discolouring of the man's toenails. He was right, made me feel like a idiot." Faye nodded as she chose her food; Jacket Potato with Tuna Mayo, her favourite.
"He did have a talent for making you feel like you were stupid." She agreed, folding the menu and placing it back, "Yet when I first handed him a game controller he tried to make the game move by pointing it at the television like a remote." The pair giggled together and Molly looked over her own menu and suddenly started floundering as she saw the tears shining in the dim light.
"Oh god, I'm so sorry." She exclaimed, "I didn't think..." Faye shook her head.
"No, it's fine." She promised, "John won't talk about him, he just starts to cry. So do I," She wiped her eyes to emphasise her point, "But I want to. I can't keep going around like he never existed. I wanted him a part of my life, I still do. Why would that change because he's dead?"
"Sometimes I can't believe he's gone." Molly admitted, cringing internally. The woman honestly believed that the man she loved was dead, and Molly knew he wasn't. She should just tell her. Sherlock didn't know what he was talking about, keeping her in the dark wasn't going to help. Molly opened her mouth, she was going to...
"Sometimes I don't believe he's gone." Faye replied, then shrugged, "Then I wake up. It's quite the let down, really." She nodded at the menu, "Have you decided?" Molly frowned in confusion then looked down at the menu she had clutched in her hands. Oh yeah, lunch.
"No, give me a minute." Faye nodded with a smile and all of Molly's determination left her. She looked down at the menu, the remorse at her own cowardice making her unable to look at Faye in the eye. One day, she'd tell her everything. Until then, she ordered a Jacket Potato with Tuna Mayo, causing Faye to grin and tell her that's what she was getting too.
~0~0~0~
When one of Mycroft's cars had turned up, Faye had insisted on them giving Molly a lift home. Molly had spent the journey looking incredibly intimidated by the government car, but Faye had sat berating the woman in the back over their lack of timing. They'd left Molly with Faye promising to take her on a night out. Molly had watched them drive off with a smile on her face. She wasn't the most outgoing person in the world, she wasn't delusional, but she was glad she'd taken the initiative to call on Faye that lunchtime. Maybe she should start being more assertive in the future.
~0~0~0~
Shaun held the door to Mycroft's office open, despite the hundreds of times Faye had told him that she was perfectly able to open a door on her own. There was a cup of tea waiting for her on the table in front of her sofa, a slice of Victoria sponge next to it. Mycroft was behind his desk.
"Miss Newbarns, sir." Shaun declared and Mycroft didn't look up from his paperwork.
"I can see that, Shaun." He drawled indifferently and Shaun bowed his head.
"Yes, sir." Faye rolled her eyes at Mycroft's attitude, sharing a knowing look with Shaun, both of them knowing how he was. Shaun gently closed the door behind him with a click and Faye sat on the sofa, picking up her cup of tea and smiling at the temperature of it. She took a sip, closing her eyes and smiling as the warm liquid made it's way down her throat. Mycroft continued to do whatever he did for the British Government, and Faye did what she always did. She kicked off her shoes and pulled her feet up onto the sofa, stretching out into a lounging position. She'd been through this so many times before, Mycroft didn't want to talk but still wanted her to visit. She picked up the piece of cake and took a small bite, smiling happily at the taste. Her favourite one as well, he was spoiling her today. She munched it as the only sound to fill the room was the scratching of Mycroft's favourite pen on paper.
~0~0~0~
"Sherlock?" Faye slurred out as her eyes opened, blinking in the disorientation of emerging from unconsciousness. Why was he waking her up at this time on night?
"Unfortunately not the correct brother." A voice almost purred out and she blinked at the sight of Mycroft sat on the table in front of her, his shirt sleeves pushed up his arms as he stared at her with a look of disinterest. She pushed herself up, running a hand through her hair as a small yawn escaped.
"How long was I asleep for?" She asked him, ignoring or forgetting her call for Sherlock. Mycroft didn't question it and let her keep her moment of ignorance to herself.
"Roughly a hour." He replied and she reached down to her pocket, reaching in for her phone, "I have already informed Dr Watson of your whereabouts." She stopped, pushing the phone back in as she twisted on the chair.
"Oh, good." She replied lamely, frowning as she looked him over. From the other side of the room he'd looked fine, but close up she could see the bags under his eyes, and how skinny he was. She reached out, placing a hand on his, "Are you okay?"
"As well as one can be when their brother is unceremoniously torn from their lives." He retorted harshly before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, "I apologise. I'm fine." She shook her head.
"No, you're not." She replied, "It was a stupid question, I'm sorry." She shifted so she was sat next to him on the table next to him, "Sometimes I forget he was a part of everyone else's life. He was your brother, I guess I can be quite selfish like that." Mycroft shook his head.
"I have just had an increased workload." He reassured her, "I've been trying to secure a retraction with the media over their portrayal of Sherlock in the last few months. It's proving more difficult than I was anticipating." She blinked in surprise before smiling bitter-sweetly.
"You want them to stop saying Sherlock was a fraud, don't you?" She asked quietly.
"Don't you?" He snapped before rubbing his eyes tiredly. She leant her head on his arm.
"Everyday." She replied quietly, "But please don't make yourself ill over it. I know you feel guilty, but there really is no need to anymore. Sherlock really couldn't have cared less if he'd tried." Mycroft down at her, eyes narrowed slightly.
"You look rather ill." He pointed out and she shrugged.
"You don't look too hot yourself." She retorted before sighing, "Please, try and look after yourself. I can't lose both of you, I just can't."
"I can assure you, I'm not going anywhere." He promised her and she smiled sadly. She'd forgiven him the moment she'd realised Sherlock was dead, back in the hospital on the day he jumped. Some things were just not worth fighting over.
"Mycroft Holmes." She said his name purposefully, letting it roll off her tongue, "I wonder what it would have been like to meet your first."
"Not nearly as entertaining." He drawled and she laughed. She grinned up at him, her eyes shining hopefully.
"Can I stop at yours tonight?" She asked and he looked away.
"If you must." He retorted, meaning yes and she stood up, placing a kiss on his hair.
"I'll let John know." She pulled her phone out and he watched her head to the door, looking over his shoulder until the war doctor answered and they began arguing. He then turned to look at his hands, clasped as they were as his elbows leant on his knees. A very world-weary thing to do, when he considered it. The position of a very stressed, weighted-down man. Which he was, which had always been. But now...
She had forgiven him so readily after being so heartbroken by his betrayal. He'd expected her to turn away from him even in her hour of need, but she hadn't. She'd clung to him and cried over Sherlock, something she'd not done in so many years.
He couldn't help but wonder if she was going to be so forgiving when the truth came out.
