Hello! A late night update for me...Zzzzzz...oh sorry! So this ended up being only a couple of scenes, and they were fun ones for me to write. Things are about to get a little more interesting for Molly and Sherlock, and that's always good.

A little general time period clarification I wanted to make before I turn you loose to read- I had a nice Guest reader say in part, "Wait a sec.. Sherlock is planning to propose ? I knew he admitted that he likes her but to me this thought just came out of nowhere." First of all, just to be clear, he never said he was planning to. He's considering it. And here's my explanation if that still seems strange to anyone. This is just how things worked back then. If a man decided he had feelings for a woman, the next step after maybe some courting (and it was usually a quick next step) would be proposing. As far as I understand, and readers can totally correct me if I'm wrong, there was usually no lengthy dating. And there was definitely no casual dating without an intent to marry! At least not among anyone considered at all proper. (Think about the dynamic in Sense and Sensibility when Willoughby had demonstrated that he was in love with Marrianne but never proposed. Considered hugely inappropriate!) Of course, Sherlock doesn't conform to all the norms completely, but I'm still mostly playing by the rules of the time period. So anyway, if Sherlock admits to himself that he likes Molly, that in itself is pretty much synonymous with saying he's considering proposing...I just wanted to clarify that for anyone who's not as familiar with the way things were long ago. And I think it'll become more important as chapters progress. I know it's weird to us today, and weird when you think of the actual BBC characters and setting, but it was no biggie back then.

Ok, now I'll definitely shut up and let you read! :)

Sherlock had always been a mostly internally focused individual. He tended to think mostly about how things would affect him, and about how he felt.

So, as usual, he was focusing on himself as the carriage transported himself and the other two men to the Hooper's home. All he was sure of at this point was the fact that he wanted to be around Molly Hooper. He wanted to see her, he wanted to hear her, and he wanted to be near her...because she made him happy.

Those were his thoughts as they neared her home. He was very much looking forward to seeing her after close to a week's time having passed since they'd met by chance on the beach. It was only the second time he'd seen her since the day after her father's death. He didn't care much about the fact that they were here with Tom...he didn't matter particularly.

The housekeeper greeted them at the door and escorted them into the small sitting room. Sherlock realized that he hadn't been in this room since that night a couple of weeks before. He looked at the couch and remembered way he'd used his fingers to pry Molly's hand off the cushion, then felt her hand squeeze his in return...

Sherlock's thoughts were disturbed as Tom took a seat in that very spot on the couch. Instead, Sherlock strolled slowly about the room with his hands clasped behind his back, unwilling to take a seat himself. John and Tom chatted easily as they all waited for Molly to come in.

"Many congratulation, Dr. Watson!" Tom said happily. "I wish you all the best in your upcoming marriage. Will you stay here after you are married, or will you be living elsewhere?"

John shrugged. "I believe we will spend some time in London, and some in the country. There is reason for us to be in both locations, so I'm sure we will do our best to divide our time throughout the year."

"I was very glad to receive this position for myself, because I would very much like to stay here for quite some time and settle down. It seems a lovely part of country to work, and have a family. I can only hope that such happiness lies in my future," Tom said with a half-smile.

"Surely it does," John said kindly.

"It is, naturally, not the easiest sort of marriage for a woman. To be a doctor's wife, that is. There are not many women who could endure the difficult hours, the responsibility, and even the dangers associated with their husband being in such a profession. You are fortunate, Dr. Watson, that you have made such a match for yourself."

"Yes, I suppose I am. Don't fret though, Dr. Charles. Miss Morstan is certainly not the only woman of her kind, and I am sure that someday you will also find-"

Just then, the door opened and Molly swept in the room, still wiping her hands on the apron she wore over her dark gown. Sherlock turned from where he leaned on the wall near the fire place, and the two men who were seated quickly rose to stand.

Her cheeks were a little pink, and there were a few tendrils of hair that had fallen loose from the way it was loosely pinned at the back of her head. She also had a smudge of something, likely from sketching in Sherlock's estimation, along her jawline. Her eyes met Sherlock's first, and she smiled.

"Hello, forgive me for making you wait. I was just...working on something."

Sherlock smiled back at her, knowing exactly what she had been working on. He stepped forward from where he had been, and stood closer to the other two men. John jumped in to make introductions.

"We won't take up much of your day, Miss Hooper. As arranged, I wanted to stop by and retrieve your father's records for all his patients. And of course, I would like you meet our new doctor. This is Dr. Tom Charles. Dr. Charles, this is Miss Molly Hooper."

It was at that moment that both John and Sherlock actually took the time to look at Tom. A frown quickly began to form on Sherlock's brow.

Tom's jaw had fallen slack and his eyes were wide. Sherlock could even see the man's unsteady breathing from where he stood. Tom finally closed his mouth and seemed to swallow with some difficulty, but he still said nothing. All he was doing was staring at her, staring at Molly.

Molly spoke up. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Charles. Dr. Watson has told me good things. I am sure that you will do an excellent job." She smiled at him warmly.

Tom finally began to form words. "M-Miss Hooper, it is certainly a pleasure to meet you. I am sure that anything you've heard of me is nothing in comparison to your father's impressive reputation. It is clear that this town has suffered the loss of a great doctor, and a great man. And please accept my sincerest sympathies for your personal loss. I was humbled to accept the position, but of course I wish the circumstances were different." He spoke the words with eyes locked onto hers, and an unmistakable tenderness in his tone.

As Tom finished speaking, John covertly turned to Sherlock and made a very telling face. He was met with an expression that was a mix of horror and shock written on the detective's features as he looked back and forth between Tom and Molly.

"That is very kind of you to say, Dr. Charles. I appreciate your concern and care. My father always said that those sorts of qualities are much of what makes an excellent physician, so I am now even more sure that Dr. Watson chose wisely when he invited you here."

Molly caught Sherlock's eye again and Sherlock chose to use that moment to covertly gesture to his cheek in an effort to show her the smudge on her skin. Molly raised her hand to her face and looked embarrassed.

"Forgive me, I believe I am a bit of a mess," she said with a nervous laugh. "I should have examined myself a bit more carefully with a view to making improvements!"

Quick as lightening, Tom reached into his coat pocket and retrieved his handkerchief. "Here you are, Miss Hooper. And please don't trouble yourself on our account. We are the ones intruding on your time. Besides...there is nothing in need of improving from where I stand."

As he handed her the handkerchief, Sherlock absolutely saw the man's fingers graze Molly's, and he came close to snapping. John's eye brows also rose about two full inches when he looked at his friend this time.

"Yes," Sherlock cut in a bit louder than he'd meant to. "As Dr. Charles said, we are taking up your time, Miss Hooper. Surely it would be best if we retrieve the patient's records as quickly as possible, and then make a hasty exit. Wouldn't you agree, Dr. Watson?"

John had to clear his throat a couple of times. "Y-yes, surely we wouldn't want to intrude any longer than necessary."

Molly smiled at all three of them as she finished wiping her cheek. "It's perfectly fine, no need to rush. I'd hate to send you all off so quickly. Wouldn't you like some tea?"

"We couldn't possibly stay and-" Sherlock began

"Oh yes, thank you!" Tom said brightly at the same moment.

Sherlock exchanged another desperate look with John.

Molly frowned in question ever so slightly at Sherlock, but then smiled again at all of them. "I'll just go and ask Mrs. Hart to bring us in some tea then. I'll get the patient's records as well."

Sherlock was not going to be a fool and let this opportunity fall to any other man in the room. "Allow me to assist you with those records, Miss Hooper." Before anyone, including Molly, could say anything else, he had stepped forward and opened the door for them both to exit.

Molly looked a little bewildered at Sherlock's odd behavior, but she left the room with him, assuring the other two gentlemen that they'd be back shortly.

Sherlock marched down the hallway towards Dr. Hooper's office, and ushered them both inside. He began flying about the room rapidly opening doors and drawers, but saying nothing. Molly stood there watching him in confusion.

"Mr. Holmes?" she finally asked.

"Yes? What?" he spat out, whirling around to face her with a somewhat desperate expression.

"I do actually know where my father's records are kept," she said slowly with a smirk on her face. "It's probably not necessary for you to rummage through his cabinets and drawers as if neither of us have ever been here before. In fact, you may be interested to know that I've already organized and set them aside in preparation for Dr. Watson's visit today." Molly gestured to the floor right beside the door where two boxes were sitting.

Sherlock looked back and forth between the boxes and her, and then he cleared his throat. "Yes, uh, that is helpful information. Thank you."

"You're welcome. I just assumed you would like to find them as quickly as possible...since you don't seem to want to stay long." Her expression was a little sad.

Sherlock frowned, realizing he must very well have sounded that way. "What? No! I-I hadn't said that. I just...I simply meant that it would be best if..." He realized that he couldn't exactly explain his reasons for wanting to get other people out of her home as soon as possible. His words trailed off and he looked around the room in embarrassment.

"Never mind...I'll just get these." He walked over and lifted the two boxes in his arms.

He froze for a moment and looked down at Molly who was separated from him only by the two boxes held against his chest. She stared up at him with those big brown eyes, and for a split second he contemplated throwing the boxes out of his arms and-

"Why don't you take those back to the sitting room and I'll just go and see about the tea?" she said, breaking the moment and opening the door again.

"Right, no problem." Sherlock nodded and exited the room after her, heading down the hallway in the opposite direction.

Two hours, two cups of tea, a good many biscuits, and a long string of medical anecdotes later, the three men were finally ready to leave the Hooper's home. Sherlock was more than ready. He honestly couldn't say he knew what he was planning to do about his growing feelings for Molly, but what he could say with all possible certainty was that he could not stomach watching another man giving her the kind of attention that Tom had been. It was incredibly frustrating to watch.

Molly, of course, was gracious and kind and happily chatted with the man about all sorts of things to do with medicine and her father. John was uncomfortable simply because he knew that Sherlock was so on edge. It wasn't difficult for him to pick up on. The rate at which Sherlock drummed his fingers on the tea cup he held was liable to wear a hole in it.

"We appreciate your hospitality, Miss Hooper," John said as they made their way to the door.

"It was no trouble. I was glad to have you. And I was so pleased to meet you, Dr. Charles. I may not be my father, but if you have any need of more information as you are settling in here, you are more than welcome to ask."

Tom appeared ready to burst as he looked down at her. He smiled widely, eyes gleaming, and took a moment to actually formulate a verbal response.

"You are...too kind, Miss Hooper! And I know that this is a most difficult time for you. If there is anything that I can ever do...naturally, if you aren't feeling well, please send for me."

"I do hope she would have that option, what with your being the new doctor and such," Sherlock mumbled under his breath as he turned his head to roll his eyes our of their line of vision.

John had no trouble hearing him though, and decided to speed their exit. "Why don't we get you back home, Dr. Charles. I know you have much left to do."

"Yes, Dr. Watson, you are right of course," he agreed, then turned back to Molly. "Thank you again, Miss Hooper. I do very much hope that we will meet again soon."

The warmth radiating from Tom's words left Sherlock with a chill running through him. Especially when he watched Molly smile back at the man, and saw her cheeks turn just a little pink.

"Thank you, Dr. Charles. And I hope we meet again as well," she answered him with a smile.

Tom and John went through the door first and Sherlock hung back, still holding the boxes of records in his arms. Molly looked up at him, almost expectantly. She wondered what he came here for if he was only going to act miserable.

"You didn't have to come today if you would rather not have. I'm sure they could have managed," she offered, not sure what else to say.

He sighed a little in frustration. "I wanted to come, Miss Hooper, it was no bother." He knew he wasn't being as convincing as he wished he could be.

"Oh," she said softly, unsure if she believed him. "I did have some of the sketches I had wanted to give you, but it didn't seem the right time. Perhaps another time soon?"

Sherlock was able to manage a genuine smile. "Soon, yes, of course. Perhaps I'll bring Redbeard by for his walk in the next day or two."

"I'd like that. I should like to see him," she said honestly, but left out the part where she expressed how she would be even more thrilled to see Sherlock.

Sherlock gave her one more small smile. "Good day, Miss Hooper."

Molly watched him leave and started thinking again about something that had been bothering her lately. They were now in the beginning of the month of August, and that meant that Sherlock would be gone in a matter of a few weeks. There was very little time left, and it was rapidly running out. He was her friend, and that was certain. But Molly knew, as any woman would in such a situation, that if he walked away now, if he left when summer turned to fall and didn't say what she wished he would...it would be because he simply did not want to say it.

The three men were silent in the carriage as it carried them along the road, but Tom's smile was so loud that Sherlock could barely hear himself think. Regrettably for Sherlock, it was Tom who broke the silence.

"I- I cannot believe that Miss Hooper is unmarried," he said shaking his head and smiling.

Sherlock kept his eyes focused outside the carriage. His lips rested on his closed fist as his arm leaned on the edge of the window.

"Indeed," John said simply, with a quick smile and a glance at Sherlock. He hoped this would not end with unpleasantness.

"She is one of the smartest women I have ever encountered. I have never known a woman to possess such a perfect grasp of medicine. Why, it felt as if I were simply speaking to another physician!" Tom exclaimed with a little laugh.

"You were right, Mr. Holmes," Tom went on. "She is truly unique. I cannot imagine how other young men haven't managed to see that yet."

John heard Sherlock inhale sharply and exhale slowly. He muttered an "indeed," but didn't turn to look at Tom.

Thankfully, the ride came to a close rather quickly. They got Tom back home, grinning all the way, and finally John and Sherlock were alone again as they began their ride back to Seaborne. There was silence for a while, and Sherlock continued quietly unreadable on the other side of the carriage.

John finally cleared his throat and said, "That went...well...don't you think?" he asked in the most pleasant voice he could manage.

Sherlock turned his head slowly and gave John a dissatisfied glare.

John sighed. "What do you expect me to do, Holmes? Am I supposed to go searching for a new doctor based on whether or not they could be interested in Miss Hooper? You cannot possibly blame this on me."

"I am not blaming you," he said through gritted teeth. "The situation not being your fault does not change the fact that it is hardly pleasant to watch."

John hesitated before speaking his next words. "Holmes, you know...you know that you do not have to be subjected to watching such a thing. You never need witness another man showing her any interest. There is something you could do."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "You cannot be suggesting that I propose simply because another man smiled at her! I told you I had not decided!"

John let out a frustrated laugh. "Perhaps I should speak a bit more plainly. I am suggesting that you propose to her, or at least make your feelings clear, because if you don't, someone else very likely will! We both know that Dr. Charles won't simply smile at her forever. He just told us today that he wants to stay here and practice medicine, settle down, and have a family. He will want to see her again, I am sure. He will surely begin to call on her, and it does not take a detective to realize what he would do next."

Sherlock swallowed hard at the facts before him. He knew John was right. Most men were quite different from him. There was little indecision. If they met a woman that appealed to them...why drag their feet and needlessly waste time?

Sherlock began to speak words that seemed difficult to disentangle from his tongue. "She might...what if she were to-"

"She wouldn't," John cut in quickly. "I am sure she would not accept him. Not if you spoke first. Do not ignore the evidence that is right in front of you, Holmes. You must be able to see it. Don't you see the way she looks at you? Every time she laughs, she looks at you first. When you speak, it's as if every other person around her disappears. It has been clear to me since the first moment I saw you with her. If she does not love you now, she is very well on her way...foolish woman." He added a smirk.

Sherlock barely offered a smile in return. He turned away from John again and thought about his words carefully. He thought back on all the time he'd spent with Molly Hooper thus far, and all the things that she did. He replayed her words, looks, smiles, laughs, and brief touches. He quickly admitted to himself that he would be a fool to believe she had no feelings for him. That meant that John was correct. It was possible that he had the power to make things go the way he wanted.

The way he wanted.

He knew what he wanted now. The more time passed, and the more he thought about it, the more he realized that he didn't want to let her go. He wanted the things they'd shared this summer, and more, to go on forever. He was more sure than ever that if he went back to London without her, it would be with an emptiness that he wasn't sure if all the cases in the world could fill. As he imagined that alternative, he didn't want to live like that. He wanted her.

It seemed rather simple in his head in that moment. If he wanted her, and she felt the same, who cares if Dr. Tom Charles had waltzed into town or not? It made no difference...it shouldn't make any difference at all. Sherlock felt his spirits lifting again after being brought down from the events of the day.

That was when they happened to pass by the way of the church, and Sherlock caught sight of the still rounded bit of earth that permanently housed what physically remained of Molly's father. Sherlock's memory of his standing on that very ground and uttering a solemn promise flashed across his mind's eye.

He had to quickly turn his head away. He shut his eyes for a moment, trying not to think of those memories. He violently pushed those thoughts away, and determined not to torment himself with them. Sherlock couldn't think about those things now. Just then, for some strange reason...he couldn't bear it.

Anthea neared Mycroft's bedroom and heard him already speaking to someone.

"I would like for all my things to be packed and ready to go in one week's time. I am telling you now so that there is no possibility of delay. If the British government falls short in any way, I do not believe you would want any of the fault to be yours."

"Yes, sir, of course. We will be sure your departure is completely prepared for, you have nothing to worry about," the man servant assured him.

Anthea slowly entered the room, making her presence known.

"Thank you, I am glad to hear it," Mycroft answered the servant after seeing his wife walk in. "You may go now."

The servant bowed and exited the room quickly, leaving husband and wife alone.

After a moment of silence, Anthea stepped forward and spoke. "So...you are going then? You haven't considered staying even another week or two?"

Mycroft looked a little uncomfortable. "I told you I would consider it, Anthea, and I did. But it is simply not possible. I cannot be spared any longer, and it would be irresponsible for me to insist on staying here. I have already taken as long a holiday as is possible for me. I need to return to my life."

"Your life?" Anthea questioned quietly. "Don't you mean your work?"

"No," he answered with head held high in attempted pride. "You heard me correctly, Anthea. I said my life. By now I should think you would understand that my work is my life."

Anthea looked back at him sadly. "I believe I am beginning to understand that, Mycroft, even though it pains me. I suppose it is time for me to accept that you will never see me as I see you. I am learning that although you mean everything to me, I mean a precious little to you. I am not sure that it will ever stop being difficult...but I am prepared to accept it. What else is there for me to do?" She shook her head in disbelief.

Mycroft hesitated a couple of times as he tried to answer her. "Anthea, you are my wife, and we are married. It is in the nature of that arrangement that our mindsets differ. I told you before that I am giving you all that I have in my power to give."

Anthea rekindled a tiny bit of fire back up in her eyes as she looked at him again. "I know you say that, Mycroft. I am also unsure if that is the absolute truth. There are times when I can tell that you let go, just for the briefest of moments...and I see something. I see something that you seem to be hiding from me. I can't understand why you hide it from me, and I wish you wouldn't. I wish with all my heart that you would stop worrying about...whatever it is that worries you! That is as far as I can understand, and I am running out of patience to continue trying to understand you any further. Perhaps that is what you want, and I am giving in. If that is the case, so be it. I am too tired to keep fighting for the both of us...I have need of my own strength."

Anthea cast her eyes downward again and seemed to be fighting off emotion. Mycroft stood a few feet away, statue still, watching her every move and every breath intently. As he anticipated, she wasn't done speaking and finally went on.

"I was waiting to hear whether you were absolutely leaving or not. I seem to have my answer now. Since I have that, I will now tell you what decision I have come to...I will not be returning to London with you."

Anthea paused and looked up at her husband again. If she was not mistaken, there was some badly concealed shock written on his face.

Mycroft took a moment to consider her words before answering with a simple, "I see."

"I suppose I should clarify my decision though. At this moment I am not returning to London with you. If, at any point during this coming week, you decide to ask me to go back with you...I will without fail pack my belongings and leave at your side. If you want me, all you need to do is say it. But if you cannot honestly say that, then I will chase after your affection no longer."

Mycroft continued staring at his wife, wide eyed and stoic. When it seemed she was done speaking, he cleared his throat and managed to make an answer. "I understand," he said softly.

Anthea nodded and let out a sigh. She reminded herself that it was silly to hope that this speech she'd prepared would be all it would take for her husband to suddenly unleash a flood of verbal affection and added apology. She reminded herself that this was the right thing to do, regardless of his reaction. It was the right thing for her. No matter what was at stake, she would not be the fool who begged a man for his affections for the rest of her life. It was now time to think of other things.

Anthea straightened up and prepared to take her leave. "I am glad you understand. That was all I had to say. I just...wanted to be clear."

"You were, Anthea...unmistakably clear," he answered her with unreadable features.

And you are being unmistakably clear right now, she thought. Anthea felt a lump forming in her throat. She was beginning to lose her resolve to stay emotionally strong, and knew it was time to retreat.

"Goodnight, Mycroft," she said quickly, and left the room before he could say another word.

The silence in Mycroft's room was deafening, and he was plagued by the uncomfortable pounding of his heart beat. He was left standing alone...and he couldn't help but think that this may be an eerily accurate foreshadowing of his life from here forward.

Yes, I can hear you all fretting about Mythea right now seeing as I left things at a pretty bleak place right here...but no worries. I have a master plan which will shortly take place, and it will shift things quite a bit. I won't blab details, but most of you know I'm a happy ending sort or gal, so you can assume where things will end up. I just like to take the scenic route in getting there haha! So much more fun that way.

That's all she wrote for now! I'll see you on chapter 15, and most likely that'll be some time next week. Talk to me on here or Tumblr, my readers! ;)