A/N: I think this is the end. I was at work and I was thinking about it, feeling a bit sentimental, but this may be really the end. But! I think there will be a sequel. It may be disappointing because I despise writing Sherlock as a boyfriend/husband (that and sequels can be disappointing in general). I am ridiculous. But we will see what happens. This story-writing with all of your (hopefully unironic) enthusiasm for this story brightens my day every day. I love you all. xM

The train ride back to London was quiet. They didn't talk about what had happened the night before, by some sort of silent agreement, but the atmosphere between them was relaxed.

Sherlock glared when he saw Mycroft's car waiting for him at the train station. Molly told herself that she shouldn't be surprise that Mycroft knew. Of course Mycroft knew.

"I guess I'll see you later." Molly gave Sherlock a smile and made to hail a taxi.

"No, actually, you're coming with." He grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the car.

It was, mercifully, empty. Apparently Mycroft's assistant had better things to do than drive around with a dead man and a runaway pathologist.

The car took them along a roof that was increasingly familiar to Molly and, it would seem, to Sherlock as well.

"Why are we going to my flat?" Molly muttered to Sherlock, who shrugged.

Her flat was in the same condition it had been when they left, which she found surprising even though there was no reason for it to have changed. The single difference was that there was currently one Mycroft Holmes sitting in her kitchen, sipping her tea, out of her best mug.

"Ah, Miss Hooper." He gave her an ingratiating smile. "Thank you for allowing me the use of your flat."

"I- I didn't." Molly stammered as she was handed a mug of tea. Mycroft's only response to this was a slight frown.

"Sherlock, I told you not to go after Sebastian Moran. We had people trailing him."

"Clearly your people aren't very good, are they?"

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps not, but you could have been killed. Your death would have completely put to waste our careful planning over the past year."

The detective rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

Molly bit back a laugh at how much they sounded like bickering five-year-olds. Perhaps with a larger vocabulary.

Mycroft turned from Sherlock to her. "Our deepest gratitude for saving my idiot brother's life. Twice."

She fidgeted with the spoon in the tea she had been given. "Oh, um, it wasn't a big deal." She told him, trying not to look him in the eye. "I- I'd have done the same with anyone..."

"Be careful, Miss Hooper." Mycroft said, his voice low. "He has never been good at relationships of any sort. Don't expect this to be any different."

"I'm sorry, I never said anything about-" Molly began, but he laughed.

"I'm at least as observant as my brother, not that that would be necessary for that particular deduction. Make sure to look at your neck next time you're in front of a mirror."

She blushed and he turned back to Sherlock.

"I expect you'll be wanting to see John soon. I'd be careful, he's a bit fragile at the moment, emotions-wise. I'm sure he would be a near match to you in a fist fight."

Sherlock rolled his eyes but agreed. "I'll go as soon as you take leave of Molly's flat. You can't just go about breaking and entering. Mummy wouldn't like it."

How'd things go with John? xM

Quite well, actually. I managed to deflect his punch and he eventually believed it was me. SH

That's good. xM

Yes. And Lestrade phoned, he's got a case for me. I hope you haven't been fired because I'll need to run some tests at the lab tomorrow. SH

Nope, not fired. I'll be there all day. xM

Excellent. SH

Goodnight, Sherlock. xM

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