A bit of a Faye-Lite chapter, but... ;)

Thank you all again for your kind reviews, I hope you like where I'm taking this :)

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Molly switched to yet another channel, before giving up watching in frustration. She turned it off with a push of the red button on top of the remote and stood up, chucking it onto her chair rather more violently than was needed. Heading to the kitchen, she flicked the switch on her kettle, pulling out a mug ready for yet another cup of tea.

It occurred to her that if she'd been a drinker, this would be the time to start downing glasses of wine as if they were water. But she wasn't, and wine tasted foul at the best of times so she had to settle for copious amounts of Tetley.

The fact of the matter was she had absolutely no way of contacting him. After seeing him off to Belarus, an arduous task which she yet again received no thanks for, she had tried to ring his old number. The woman on the other side of the phone declared the number out of use, and that was it really. She had no idea where he was, he didn't have a fixed address anymore so even if she had the skills she had no way of tracking him down.

It was one of the reasons she hadn't told Faye, she reasoned with herself as she poured the hot water over the teabag, placing the kettle back on it's base and turning to the fridge. It wasn't like she could offer any help once Faye did know and 'oh yeah, Sherlock's alive but I have no idea where and you still can't see him and he'll still not be there for you and the baby' wasn't much of a consolation.

Then there was the fact that Faye would probably not forgive her for not saying the truth to begin with. Molly knew she wouldn't. She poured the milk into the cup before screwing the lid back on and returning it to the fridge. If she found out she was being kept out of a deception this big by the man who supposedly loved her, then she wouldn't forgive anyone who knew either.

Still, she had to do something. She leant on the kitchen counter top, blowing absentmindedly on the top of the drink before taking a small sip. Faye had made her promise not to tell anyone, but the longer the woman stayed in denial over the situation the worse it would become. And she knew there was someone who could sort it out, who was much cleverer than she was and who had the most chance of being to contact Sherlock. It was for her own good, Molly decided as she went back into the living space of her modest flat. She picked up her phone and rang a number she'd been given by Sherlock in case something happened to Faye. She smiled to herself as she held the phone to her ear, he'd been so concerned for her. Not that he showed it, but even giving the impression was huge for a man like Sherlock. If only he felt the same about her.

"Dr Hooper, what can I do for you this evening?" Mycroft drawled on the other side of the line, startling her out of her thoughts.

"Oh, hello." She replied meekly, suddenly realising she had no idea where to start, "Um, I'm a bit worried about Faye, and Sherlock told me I was to tell you. So, you know, maybe so you could contact him or something." She could feel herself going bright red, cringing at her awkwardness. So much for the more assertive Molly she'd been aiming for.

"I can assure you, Dr Hooper, that a little illness and grief will not bring Sherlock running back from the dead." He mocked and she shook her head.

"She's not ill." Molly told him before sighing, "She's pregnant. And there was something about seeing 'Mary' everywhere. She asked me not to say anything to anyone, but I'm really worried..." There was a knock on her front door and at the silence from the other end of the line, she looked at it warily. How had he made it there so quickly? There was another knock.

"Maybe you should answer your door, Dr Hooper." Mycroft instructed calmly, ignoring everything she said previously, "I can hold." She nodded, even though she knew he couldn't see her, and opened her front door.

"John?" She asked as he shot her a kind smile. She had always liked John, he'd been kind to her when Sherlock wasn't, making her feel like she was useful. But him being at her flat, and quite late into the evening at this point, was quite odd.

"Hello Molly. Can I have a quick word?" He asked and she nodded, stepping out of the way to let him in and motioned to the phone in her hand.

"I'll just be a minute." She apologised and he smiled again, making her smile back as he sat on her sofa. She held the phone back up to her ear, "It's John. I better go."

"I could use a chat with Dr Watson. If you would kindly pass him your phone I'd be most grateful."

"Oh, I don't know if that's a good idea." She replied anciously. Telling Mycroft was one thing, John would go mad if he knew Faye was keeping secrets from him.

"If I promise not to tell him about Faye's predicament, will you pass him the phone?"

"Okay." She reluctantly agreed and walked over to John's side, holding the phone to him, "He wants to talk to you."

"Who?" John replied with a frown, suspicious.

"Oh, it's Mycroft." John didn't question why he was calling Molly, instead just took the phone from her.

"She answered to Mary today." John told him without waiting, "I called Faye three times but she only answered to Mary. That can't be good, can it?"

"I shall make an appointment with her psychiatrist.I suggest going back and keeping an eye on her this evening. Sherlock was not the only one with danger nights." John nodded.

"Will do." He passed the phone to Molly, "Has she said anything to you?" He asked, getting back to the reason he was there in the first place. Molly shrugged, slightly bewildered.

"She said she was seeing Mary everywhere because Sherlock had been calling her by her old name?" She offered. John cursed then smiled.

"Cheers. Do you think you can come by tomorrow, take her to lunch or something? She seems to really enjoy spending time with you." Molly nodded, a modest smile spreading on her face.

"Of course." John nodded and was out of the door before she could say anything else. Realising she still had a phone in her hand, she quickly placed it up to her ear.

"Is it really that bad?" She asked and Mycroft sighed, exasperated.

"Extremely." He retorted.

"Does that mean you'll contact him?" She pressed. There was a long pause.

"I shall try." Mycroft offered, "I don't exactly know where he is either, Dr Hooper." Molly smiled in relief.

"Thank you." She offered before a burst of courage rushed over her, "And I am not a goldfish." She hung up quickly before he could reply and giggled to herself, the rush making her feel giddy. She went back over to her favourite chair, picking up the remote and flopping down, turning to Dave and laughing heartily at Mock the Week.

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Mycroft smiled, pleasantly surprised at the doctor's outburst before rubbing his face with his hand. He looked around the office, then at the couch he'd refused to have moved. It felt like days since he'd gone home, chances were it had been and he wouldn't leave for a while yet. He still had to try and sort this shambles out, his brother wouldn't come back before it was.

He turned back to his phone, speed-dialing until a voice answered on the other side.

"Brother dear." Sherlock drawled.

"Mary's pregnant." Mycroft replied, no pretence and not beating around the bus. The use of her name was deliberate and Sherlock hissed in surprise.

"Who?" Was his answer.

"You." Mycroft bit out, "What will you do?" Sherlock didn't reply for a long, drawn-out moment.

"Is she living with John yet?" He asked.

"Obviously."

"Then she will be fine." Sherlock dismissed coldly, "Do not tell her, Mycroft."

"You do realise she will keep it, regardless if it is what is best for her." Mycroft pointed out, "A little bastard Holmes running around, and she won't know you're alive."

"Does John know?" He asked and Mycroft sighed with a shake of his head.

"Oblivious, as always." He replied.

"He will look after her. Neither of them can know. The underworld is watching them, they have to be kept in the dark."

"At the expense of your own child?" Mycroft asked lightly.

"Goodbye, Mycroft." And Sherlock hung up. Mycroft hadn't expected anything less. He hadn't thought it would change anything, expect maybe he'd be slightly more careful than he had been up until that point.

He stood up, stretching in an extremely undignified manner them moved to the sofa, lying down and closing his eyes. A few hours later, he awoke and went back to his business.