A/N: Hey, everyone. Sorry I got a little carried away length-wise. But here's chapter three. The action is going to pick up soon so just hang in there. Let me know what you think and thanks for reading!-thefaultoflegend

"Molly, stop fidgeting." Sherlock reached over and stilled Molly Hooper's hands, which she was busy wringing together out of nervousness. She sighed and went to biting her lip instead, trying desperately to calm her nerves.

She always hated this part, meeting the parents. Every new boyfriend she had, she was always waiting for the inevitable, dreading it in fact. She was never good at impressing people; she was always too quiet and too shy and too awkward. She made morbid jokes and it was always like a bomb went off when she told the parent's about her profession. Working around dead people didn't impress anybody. If anything it repulsed them. And she could never give somebody grandchildren when she worked so much, and especially when that work was cutting up dead bodies and helping solve murders. She hoped, however, that meeting Sherlock's parents would be different.

They had been living together officially for a week before Sherlock decided it was time to pay his parent's a visit. Well more like his mother decided it was time to meet Sherlock's girlfriend, but Sherlock obliged.

The pair spent a lot of time together, more time than Molly thought Sherlock could spend with another person. And he never seemed to be bored or annoyed with her, so she supposed that was a success. They only argued a few times about body parts but that was normal, something they had plenty of experience working through.

Molly was happier than she had ever been because of him. And she liked to think she did the same to him. He was definitely less irritable. Even Greg and John told her that he was a lot calmer and kinder on cases, and even better when she was there with him. Because there was that, too. More going on cases with him. She loved every second of it, she had to admit. It gave her the chance to get out of the lab and out into the streets of London, running with her consulting detective as they tried to track down a killer.

He never took her on the more dangerous ones although she begged him to quite frequently. It was the one of the only things he never gave into. Getting him to eat? No problem. Letting her take over the telly and watch her ridiculous shows? She could even get him to sit with her. But she could never convince him when it came to the cases he took her on. They worked on low key ones. And when they finished a case he'd plant a kiss on her forehead when he thought no one was looking and even sometimes in front of Lestrade, as he started getting used to small public displays of affection. They would then go out for fish and chips. It was like a little tradition for the two of them and she looked forward to it.

"Molly?" Sherlock's voice cut through her thoughts and she looked over to see that her boyfriend was smiling down at her, a small forced smile, but he was still trying.

"Sherlock?" she asked timidly.

"Don't be nervous, Molly. I don't see why you're getting so worked up, anyway. I promise that your intellectual capabilities far surpass theirs. Well they surpass my father's at least. I suppose you and my mother are equals."

They were standing at his parent's door, waiting to be let in. Molly straightened the yellow dress she chose to wear for the occasion and took a deep breath. The day was gorgeous with the sun seeming to take up the entire sky and the scent from Mrs. Holmes' many flowers was wafting through the air. The smell calmed Molly and she smiled up at Sherlock.

"Intellectual capabilities won't help Sherlock. What if they don't like me?"

"They'll like you," he said impatiently. He knocked on the door again, wondering where his mother was.

"Sherlock…"

"Molly," he cut her off and looked at her, giving her a sincere smile this time and talking to her gently. "I like you. So I know for a fact that they will, too." He placed a hand on the small of her back and leaned in to kiss the top of her head. She would always relax when he did it and he ensured that he would perform the act when she was becoming too tense. It was one way he could think of to show her that he cared, and she seemed to appreciate it.

As for Sherlock, he was liking, no loving, every minute he had with Molly even he had a hard time admitting to others or even to himself. She was like a ray of sunshine cutting through everyone else.

When he was frustrated he sat in his flat and listened to her humming to herself as she read or cleaned. When he was bored she would grab his hand and drag him out of Baker Street and take him for a walk, talking to him about tests she was running and what was happening on the television shows she liked. He didn't even mind. He just liked to hear her voice, which was a first for him. He rarely liked talking about things that didn't hold any importance. But he did with Molly. They got into ridiculous conversations wherever they were, at the lab, in the morgue, on the case, sitting in one of their flats.

Well, just his flat now. Their flat, he corrected himself and smiled at the thought. They finished moving all of her stuff in with the help of John and Lestrade, and Sherlock couldn't have been happier while he watched her unpack her books and add them to his bookshelf.

"What," he remembered her saying as he stared at her and she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear that fell from her bun. He wanted to tell her how ecstatic he was that she was there and how she had changed his entire life and living together was such a pleasure for him, even though if somebody asked why he made the step he would say something about the logical implications of not having to pay for both flats. He found himself at a loss for words though and instead just shrugged his shoulders and smiled as he walked over to help her.

If he were telling the truth, he was happy that she was finally meeting his parents. Sherlock loved to show off and showing Molly off to his parents was something he could handle.

Just then the door swung open and Mr. and Mrs. Holmes stood there, smiling widely at their son and his girlfriend.

"Sherlock!" shouted Mrs. Holmes and her boy looked annoyed by the sudden embrace she put on him. "Oh how we've missed you so. You never come around enough dear. You're father and I were just talking the other day about how we haven't seen you since Christmas. Christmas! And it's been seven months dear, you really need to come more often. Or at least call us more than once a month. We do worry about you, you know. I know that Mycroft keeps an eye on you but sometimes I wonder if that is enough. He said that…"

"Mummy," interrupted Sherlock when he had enough of her chatter. He looked over at Molly who had gone back to fumbling with her hands. Sherlock put his hand on her back and pushed her forward slightly. "Mummy, Father. I'd like you to meet my girlfriend, Molly Hooper."

"Of course!" shouted Mrs. Holmes as she gave Molly a hug as well. Molly took it much better than Sherlock, even though she had only just met the woman. "It is so nice to finally meet you. Sherlock has never brought a girl home before. This is so exciting."

"It's nice to meet you, too, Mrs. Holmes," replied Molly once she had been released from the hug. "Sherlock has told me so much about you. Both of you," she added now while looking at Mr. Holmes. The statement was a lie, of course. Sherlock had never mentioned his parents but he appreciated the fib from Molly nonetheless.

"Molly," said Mr. Holmes as he took the pathologists hand in his own. "I hope you are watching over our Sherlock." Sherlock rolled his eyes and walked fully into the kitchen away from the three people before him.

"I try, Mr. Holmes," laughed Molly. "I'm sure you know how much of a handful he can be at times."

"Please call me Siger."

"And me Violet," added Mrs. Holmes as Molly smiled kindly at the two of them. "Would you like some tea?"

"Yes, tea would be lovely, thank you." Mr. Holmes motioned for Molly to take a seat at the kitchen table and she did so, right beside Sherlock who was struggling to stay in the present and not retreat to his mind palace. She reached under the table and put her hand on his knee, squeezing a bit to show that she appreciated the effort.

But actually, it wasn't that bad. As soon as Molly sat down she felt at home, like she was meant to be there. It was the same way she felt when she was at 221B Baker Street and she couldn't help but think that maybe being with the Holmes' was just something she was supposed to do. She smiled to herself and Violet set a cup of tea down in front of her.

"So, tell us Molly, about your job. Sherlock tells us you are a pathologist. How fascinating," said Violet who seemed genuinely interested and Molly breathed a sigh of relief. She started talking about what she did for a living, how she actually like doing post-mortems and Siger and Violet didn't find that strange at all. She had to remind herself that they raised Mycroft and Sherlock Holmes. They had seen it all by this point.

"Of course Sherlock is always interrupting me at work, wanting me to examine a body for a case or run a few tests for him. Or smuggle body parts to his flat."

"Smuggle isn't really the appropriate word. You donate body parts so that I can better solve cases. And you love it when I interrupt you at work, Molly Hooper," replied Sherlock haughtily which made Molly giggle and the Holmes parents smile on.

"Oh that sounds just like our Sherlock," said Mrs. Holmes. "I hope he doesn't bother you too much."

"Oh no. He's right. Most of the time I enjoy it."

"And the other times?" asked Siger.

"Well… I've had plenty of time to learn how to handle Sherlock." She looked to Sherlock who looked away suddenly. The Holmes couple chuckled, knowing that their boy was safe in the hands of this pathologist.

"So how long have you two been together? Will we be hearing wedding bells soon?" asked Violet suddenly which threw both Sherlock and Molly for a loop. They exchanged a quick glance, Molly willing him with her eyes to answer the question himself. He looked back, trying to get her to answer. After a few seconds, Sherlock cleared his throat and looked down at his hands which he was wringing together, much like the act he had scolded Molly for doing.

"We've been together for about four months," he replied a bit shakily. His thoughts raced quickly. He honestly never thought about marriage with Molly. He was just getting used to the idea of having a girlfriend. And they were living together. Getting married wouldn't change anything, really. "We..er… we're happy where we are right now," Sherlock finished with a breath as redness tinged his cheeks.

His mother was about to ask another question when they were interrupted by a knock at the door and then the door opening. Mycroft walked in, swinging his umbrella with a cold expression on his face.

"Mykie!" exclaimed Mrs. Holmes as she ran to hug her other boy. "Both of you here at once; it's like Christmas! You're just in time for dinner. Please say you'll stay."

"My names is Mycroft. Please do try to get it right. And I can't, Mummy. I have a matter of national importance that I need to discuss with my brother. Sherlock?" said Mycroft now, brushing off his mother and turning to his brother. He didn't answer.

"Sherlock," Molly said and his eyes immediately popped open, his blue irises staring into her big brown eyes. "Mycroft needs to talk to you." He turned his head and narrowed his eyes are his brother.

He noticed his fidgeting hand, the way he swung his umbrella which he only did when he was largely stressed, and the way his eyes were boring into Sherlock. Sherlock got up without a word and followed his brother outside, closing the door behind him. He smiled slightly as he walked into the yard. His parents really did like Molly and he thought he evaded the marriage question well. He wasn't sure what to expect out of this afternoon but everything was going swimmingly. They seemed to be getting along just fine.

"Mycroft," said Sherlock by way of recognition.

"Brother mine," replied Mycroft. They stood at the end of the yard, facing outward. "I see you've decided to introduce the girlfriend to Mummy and Daddy."

"Yes, well it was more Mummy insisting that I bring her over," he smiled thoughtfully then. "They like her, though." Mycroft rolled his eyes in disgust.

"Getting to the matter at hand… we have a problem."

"We always have a problem."

"Yes, well this is a Moriarty problem," replied Mycroft and Sherlock's eyes grew large. They had locked Moriarty up four months ago and Mycroft had been keeping an extremely close eye on him. "It seems as if his network is building."

"But I defeated the network."

"Not all of it. But I've gotten a few hints that they're working on a plan. A plan to get him out of prison."

"Impossible."

"Yes, it is. But they're still dangerous."

"So you want me to take them down?" asked Sherlock. Mycroft simply nodded and Sherlock sighed deeply.

"You don't have to do it yet. I don't have any locations. But I'm working on it diligently, of course and I… what on Earth are you doing?" Mycroft looked at his little brother in disgust as Sherlock sniffed his shoulder, ignoring everything the elder Holmes was saying.

"Smelling you. I know that cologne from… Oh Lord," replied Sherlock in complete shock as he took several steps back from his brother. "What the hell, Mycroft?" he nearly shouted.

"What?" asked Mycroft in exasperation.

"You're shagging Garrett Lestrade!" yelled Sherlock now as Mycroft's face turned a shade of pink that Sherlock had never seen on the man's face.

"It's Greg," said Mycroft but then looked away, realizing his mistake.

"For how long?" spat Sherlock.

"Just recently. Don't make a big deal, Sherlock." The two men stood in silence, trying to overcome the uncomfortable tension that settled in the air around them like cigarette smoke.

"Looks like you've found your goldfish, too," Sherlock finally smirked, finally getting over the shock of the situation. Looking back, it made sense to Sherlock why the two of them would get together. They were both career driven, both loved the thrill of being in charge, both were able to handle Sherlock.

"Oh do shut up," replied Mycroft and the two brothers stood there in silence for a few minutes. "Please don't tell anyone," said Mycroft in a voice that Sherlock had never heard. The younger Holmes simply nodded.

"So, Moriarty?"

"Moriarty," replied his brother, relieved that Sherlock had dropped the subject and the two men devised a plan for their next steps.