A/N: Very happy that folks are still enjoying this. Thank you for reading and reviewing!

Almost the instant he found his feet on the path leading to the comfortable house holding Dr. Hooper's medical practice and laboratory, he beheld Molly's father waiting for him. Surprise slowed Sherlock's pace for a moment, but he briskly resumed his normal walking speed and joined the other man where he rested on the low wall that delineated the kitchen garden. There was nothing to it but to take the bull by the horns, ready or not.

He came to a stop in front of the older man and nodded his head courteously, waiting for Molly's father to speak. Although the conversation they needed to have would be better served in the privacy of the doctor's study, there was no one about to overhear them. Their privacy was assured, unless one of them elected to raise their voices, which Sherlock had never known Dr. Hooper to do under any circumstances.

"Mr. Holmes, I presume I was correct in naming you as the father of the child my daughter is carrying?"

Sherlock nodded. "I can assure you, Dr. Hooper, that if Molly claims me as the child's father, that is entirely the case. I was on my way to speak to you on the matter, having received my father's permission to…"

Dr. Hooper interrupted him with an angry snort. "My daughter claims no one as the child's father, as she has yet to inform me of her condition."

Sherlock knew he was doing a poor job of masking his surprise at this assertion; if Molly had not spoken to her father, then how had…well, of course he was a physician familiar with the signs of pregnancy, but how had he known Sherlock was the father?

The older man's expression softened a bit, a hint of a smile on his lips as he said, "What, Mr. Holmes, have I shocked you with my deductions? Did you think I was unaware of the fact that you have been wooing my daughter ever since your return from Oxford? That I did not notice the fact that the doctor you recommended to me was a married man who had no intentions of remaining here to take over my practice when my health finally failed me?" He tapped his wedding band, which he'd never removed in spite of his wife's death, and the smile fully emerged, grim and just slightly triumphant. "There was a paleness on Dr. Watson's third left finger that spoke of a recently removed ring. However, he said nothing of having recently lost a wife, which he surely would have mentioned during one of our many conversations after his arrival, especially once I began the delicate process of hinting to him that a marriage between himself and Molly would not be disagreeable to me. His abrupt departure to care for an ailing 'sister' immediately caught my attention, as did the curious need of my daughter's assistance in the matter – and your presence on that journey did not go unnoted, either. Shall I go on, Mr. Holmes, or have I satisfied your curiosity as to my reasoning in believing you to be the rogue who treated my daughter in so ungentlemanly a manner?"

By the end of this speech, his voice and expression had both hardened back into anger, and Sherlock meekly acknowledged his guilt by lowering his eyes, removing his hat, and nodding. "You are correct on all counts, sir. I only ask that you hold neither Miss Hooper nor Dr. Watson accountable for my actions; I convinced them both into actions that neither would have otherwise contemplated."

"Yes, you can be rather persuasive, young man," Dr. Hooper interjected with a grumble. "And my daughter, unfortunately, has always been too susceptible to your questionable charms." He sighed. "However, she is also in love with you and has been for many years. Too many years for me to try and stand between the two of you. Even if I were inclined to find an agreeable widower who would be willing to take an expectant mother to wife, that would make my daughter miserable. Only the fact that I believe it would also make you miserable has kept me from entirely discarding it as an option. But if your father has agreed to the marriage, then I do so as well, although with, I think you will agree, understandable reservations." He peered up at Sherlock with a frown. "I know how my daughter feels about you, Mr. Holmes. The question is, how do you feel about her? Do you love her, sir?"

Sherlock considered the question carefully before answering, knowing that if he simply said yes, that Dr. Hooper, who had proven himself to be even more astute and discerning that Sherlock had credited him, would believe him to simply be saying what Molly's father wanted to hear. "I have a great deal of affection for Molly," he finally said, choosing his words with great care. "She has proven her affection to me in many ways over the years that we have known one another…" Another snort from Dr. Hooper indicated his opinion of that choice of words, which Sherlock acknowledged with a grimace and a shrug. "Present circumstances aside, I sincerely hope that you understand that I mean she has always been there for me when I most needed her, has always been willing to put aside her own needs for mine even when I did not deserve such devotion."

Dr. Hooper had never been directly informed of Sherlock's brief flirtation with morphine, but he showed his knowledge of that painful time in his daughter's life with a curt nod and a "Yes, she has."

When he fell silent after that, Sherlock took it as tacit permission for him to continue, and did so. "Dr. Hooper, your daughter is an intelligent, loyal young woman who is all I could hope for in a wife. I find that I wish to make her happy, to put her needs above my own, and to be a good father to our child and any other children we might have in the future. I hope that will be enough, along with my deep affection for her, to convince you to allow us to wed."

After a moment spent studying Sherlock's face, Dr. Hooper gave another curt nod. "Very well, Mr. Holmes. You have my permission to marry my daughter, and to inform her of my decision while I speak with your parents."

Sherlock hadn't dared to hope to be allowed to see Molly so soon after this confrontation with her father, and wasted no time in thanking the man. He held out his hand, uncertain if Dr. Hooper would accept it, but he took it into his grasp with no hesitation. His handshake was firm and uncompromising, and Sherlock felt himself relax just the tiniest bit, the tension coiled so tightly inside him finally easing. The two hurdles to his future happiness with Miss Molly Hooper had been passed, and very soon she would be Mrs. Sherlock Holmes.

He couldn't wait to inform her.

oOo

"Well, brother, I am given to understand that congratulations are due you."

Sherlock gave his elder brother a sardonic look as he folded his arms across his chest. Mycroft had appeared by his side as he stood in the garden, having a clandestine smoke. His mother decried both her sons' habits of taking the occasional pipe, claiming that the aroma of tobacco unsettled her stomach and made her lungs ache, so they had both taken to smoking only out of doors when their mother was in the house, and never within her sight. He puffed and waited for Mycroft to say whatever it was he felt he needed to say, certain that he was about to be chastised since, despite the nature of Mycroft's opening comment, the tone with which the words had been spoken conveyed a great deal of disapproval.

As predicted, the next thing Mycroft said was: "Or perhaps I should say, you have my commiseration? Father informs me that you are being forced to wed the Hooper girl due to her 'delicate condition'. Which of course invalidates your betrothal to Miss Hawkins. A pity, that."

He took out his own pipe and commenced packing in the tobacco, not meeting his brother's eyes as Sherlock turned to glower at him. "Stop it, Mycroft," he snapped in irritation. "Playing the innocent hardly suits you. You know very well this is exactly the outcome I desired."

Only after he'd applied a lucifer to the pipe bowl and had taken a few, contemplative puffs did Mycroft respond to his brother's irritable words. "Yes, of course I know," he drawled. "But Father must be placated, else he will become even more difficult to live with. And since you and I will no longer be residing here – I presume you and your bride-to-be will take up permanent residence at Baker Street after your wedding? – only Mother will be left to bear the brunt of his temper. If he feels that I am on his side, he will be less inclined to hurl abuse at all and sundry." He smirked, still without looking at Sherlock. "So do be sure to glower at me – just as you are now, little brother – and I shall be sure to throw disapproving glares in your direction at every opportunity."

Sherlock couldn't help a snort of amusement. "In other words, Mycroft, we shall go on as usual."

"Exactly."

"You are wrong about one thing, of course," Sherlock said after a moment of companionable silence had been spent smoking. He felt Mycroft's impassive gaze on him and quirked his lips in a small smile as he contemplated the rose bushes in his direct line of sight. "Molly and I shall not be moving to Baker Street as of yet. Her father will still require her assistance until the time of her confinement is upon her, and of course I have pledged to assist Dr. Hooper in finding an appropriate replacement for Dr. Watson. A young man who actually wishes to take up a position rusticating in the countryside for the rest of his life, at our father's beck and call for every imagined ailment."

"Good of you to do so," Mycroft replied without the slightest hint of sarcasm tainting his words. Not that anyone other than his brother might be able to detect, at least. "And good of Dr. Hooper to trust you in this matter since you so neatly sabotaged his last efforts in your usual selfish need to satisfy your personal desires ahead of those of others."

With that last jab, he dumped out the bowl of his pipe, ground the ashes into the dirt path beneath his feet, and turned back toward the house. Sherlock considered hurling one of the many ripostes that sprang to mind after him, then decided it was hardly worth the effort. Let Mycroft think he'd won this round of the endless verbal jousting between the two brothers; he, Sherlock, had far more pleasant matters on which to think.

Such as Molly's stunned reaction when he'd informed her of their impending nuptials...