Hi guys, this is my first attempt at a Sherlock fic, any comments are greatly appreciated :)

Thank you to all the support and in particular to kaoruca for your reviews. I appreciate your continued input and look forward to hearing from you again :)

Chapter Seven

"Fuck!" Molly screeched, backing into the door at alarming speed as it fell back into its jamb, snapping shut loudly. "Mycroft!" She shouted angrily, raising a finger towards the opposite side of the room where he sat by a small wooden table, perched on an undoubtedly uncomfortable chair, legs askew and with a rather pleased look plastered across his face. She had just finished dragging her case down the corridor and fumbling her way into the dark hotel room, only to receive the fright of her life when she finally managed to illuminate the area. He had been waiting for her, that much was obvious. And even more so, he found himself highly amusing. "You scared the shit out of me!"

"Nice to see that our cousins across the pond haven't squandered their lexis in your presence," He cocked an eyebrow at her as she clutched her free hand to her chest, breathing heavily, and the other clutched at the handle of her suitcase. He seemed to be awaiting a response from her, but Molly's initial fire had now extinguished, leaving only a puddle of mush where brain matter had once resided inside of her head.

He gave a sigh and continued, "Nice to see you again…Molly," He moved his eyes to stare directly into her own, as if checking that he was correct to not address her as 'Dr Hooper'. This brought her back to her senses temporarily and allowed her mouth to return to functioning correctly,

"Why are you here?" She asked rather bluntly. It was an unfortunate trait she had had when she was younger and had desperately tried to stamp out throughout her late twenties, though her time in Australia appeared to have encouraged it's return. "Sorry." She looked away sheepishly, heat flushing her entire body at her own rudeness, "I meant, it's good to see you."

"No, you didn't."

Molly shrugged in response and tried to avoid his gaze. It seemed since their last meeting he had regained almost all of his previous composure and returned to his intimidating attitude. And yet, it struck her suddenly, this wasn't all of Mycroft. She had seen another side to him before she had moved away, and this softened her attitude a little. She looked back at him and smiled.

"Actually, yes I did." She wheeled her case into the room and sank into the plain white bedding, looking at him softly. If she didn't know any better, she could have sworn he hadn't aged.

'Perhaps a few extra lines…' She thought wistfully, but generally he was the same as ever. Same style, same look, same stance. 'I could definitely get used to him being around more, no clue what Sherlock is always moaning about. If you can put up with him…' She grinned to herself at the thought, before a tug in her chest wiped the emotions from her face, replacing them with confusion and hurt.

He seemed to sense her change in mood as he cleared his throat unnaturally loudly and shuffled uncomfortably in his seat, drawing her attention again.

"Well," He began, sitting back in his seat, "I am delighted at your return also." She gave him a suspicious look, but smiled regardless, flopping back onto her quilt and staring up the cream - coloured ceiling above her.

"And to what do I owe the grace of your presence?" She asked without looking at him, though when he responded she was sure she could hear the smile upon his face through his tone,

"I would have assumed a little more gratitude towards the instigate of your stay in such a fine establishment."

"I knew it was you!" She sat up again suddenly and knitted her eyebrows together, "Meddling Holmes men." She muttered to herself,

"My hearing if still quiet adequate Molly."

"Oh, I don't doubt it."

He was giving her a devilish look as he leaned back into his chair, resting his chin upon his thumb and supporting his cheek and temple with his index finger, elbow propped up on the arm of the chair. Molly had seen that look before and it intrigued her to know he was showering her with it in such a blatantly obvious manner. It had been plastered on the faces of her friends when they were children - Usually when they were about to outwit their younger siblings, or perhaps best their closest cousin in a battle of intelligence. She had, of course, missed out previously, due to her having no brothers or sisters and the rest of her family remaining fairly distant outside of her parents and maternal grandparents. It was a look that said, 'the game is on' and it brought her a strange sense of joy.

"So…" She continued casually, pretending to inspect her fingernails flippantly, "Interfering for no reason? Or I am desperately required for a matter of national urgency?"

He snorted at her in a rather ungentlemanly manner and sat up straight rather suddenly, obviously horrified at himself. Molly burst out laughing and flopped back onto her elbows, head thrown behind her.

"Yes….Well. Quite." The tips of his ears had reddened slightly, and he shuffled uncomfortably. Once Molly had managed to gather her senses, she gave him an encouraging look to continue. Surprisingly she found it easy to be in his presence – Perhaps her time out of the country had mellowed him and hardened her around other people. The Australians she had met thus far had made it extremely difficult to not interact with them. "I trust the room is to your liking?"

"The recommendation of the British Government personified? Bit tacky if you ask me." She attempted her haughtiest huff but soon dissolved into a smile, unable to help herself as she eyed his glare. "It's wonderful, you daft bat. I expect nothing less." This seemed to relax him slightly though he had an air of perturb at the notion of being called daft and Molly sighed contently. "So, what are you actually doing here?"

He didn't speak for a while, seemingly trying to decide what would be appropriate.

"I…Wanted to enquire as to what your intentions were," He asked cautiously, "Regarding…Regarding my brother?"

Molly's good mood evaporated. She gulped thickly, her throat now dry and the air intolerable. The prolonged silence was becoming agonisingly unbearable,

"I have no intentions." That was a lie of course. She had been up most of the night fretting over whether or not she should go and see Sherlock. Try to explain herself and clear the air. After all, he had summoned the courage to seek her out and explain himself after that phone call. He had had the guts to face her. And for that, she had rewarded him by running. And it had been easier to keep on doing so, once it became apparent that he had not asked after her. He had never tried to make contact and she had settled into the routine of ignoring the pulling at the back of her mind that drew her back to him.

"That is to say…I do not think that he would be very happy to see me."

"What would possibly give you that impression?" Mycroft appeared to be ridiculing her, so she flared her nostrils in his direction. A queasy feeling overtook Molly, and she stared at him solemnly. Surely, he knew already, the embarrassment and frustration of it all had been eating away at her slowly, bubbling under the surface of the character she had allowed the world to see.

"Ah. You think because he never made contact, that he will not wish to reunite?" Molly rolled her eyes at him, "My dear, you requested the silence. Your wishes were honoured."

"I know that." She sighed heavily, "I'm surprised he even noticed I was gone." A quietness settled around them, Mycroft giving no indication of his thoughts and Molly wallowing in her own self – pity. She was furious with herself for feeling this way, unsure of what she had even been expecting. Sherlock was not a soft centred man, even around John and Rosie and they were practically family. It wasn't as if he were about to sweep her off her feet and carry her into the sunset. She burned in embarrassment at the thought, trying to wash it away for fear that his brother would be able to tell what was running through her mind.

"Interesting…" Mycroft commented finally. Giving himself a small shake, he stood suddenly, straightening his jacket, and nodding at her curtly, "Best be off. Good to see you, Molly."

~x~x~x~

John took another large gulp of the wine handed to him by a passing server and tried to look as inconspicuous as possible. He had effectively been babysitting Sherlock for the last hour as they made their way from group to group, exchanging pleasantries and apologising for his friend's behaviour, all while they dug for information regarding their latest case.

It had been less than a week since Miss Dobney had pleaded for their help in locating her friend, Mrs Frances Carfax, who had disappeared quite suddenly a few weeks earlier, leaving no trace behind, no digital footprint and no forwarding address. Her former assistant had supposedly been released from employment very suddenly and had taken up a position at Drapers Hall on a temporary basis. And now the two of them circulated, waiting for her to show herself so that they may begin their reconnaissance.

He adjusted his tie slightly and gave a huff,

"Oh, do pull yourself together, John." Sherlock hissed at him as they stood surveying the room. He appeared to have spotted a group he had not yet entertained and begin to stride over to them. John drained his glass, the alcohol flooding his system and washing calm over him. He felt uncomfortable. The room was filled with men who were impeccably suited, highly educated, and leading members in their medical fields. The ladies were dressed in fine gowns, fluttering fans, and giggling between themselves in small groups, swapping stories and chattering as their husbands conducted their business. Judging by the room, there were few women who had attended the gathering on their own merit as they seemed disinteresting in the conversation, and much more interested in gossiping and occasionally pointing at both himself and Sherlock, though more so the latter.

"-My associate, John Watson."

John snapped back to himself, looking at Sherlock as he wandered back over towards him, bringing to older gentlemen with him and automatically sticking his hand out towards them. They nodded and the one closest with white wispy hair gripped him firmly in return.

"John, this is Professor Gordon," Sherlock continued as the man released him, "And the Honourable Phillip Green." He released the first man and took the second by the hand, a slightly rotund man who was rather short but looked pleasant enough and nodded his head at them both.

"Just Phillip is fine," The man countered.

"Pleasure." John gave them both a strained smile, suspicious engulfing him along with the wine.

"Likewise, Dr Watson," Professor Gordon smiled at him, "Mr Holmes here was just informing us of your impressive medical career in the army. I must say, you are a credit to Queen and Country."

At this John could feel his ears reddening in embarrassment. It was unlike Sherlock to offer such compliments, and John could only suspect he was digging for information by engaging the two of them on such a lengthy basis. John nodded in approval, trying to catch Sherlock's eyes, they he seemed to be wholly fixed upon the two men in front of them.

"Yes. Well, he always did like to exaggerate."

"I'm sure that's less than accurate Dr Watson." Phillip chuckled. "Ah!" He seemed to catch sight of someone to his right and motioned them over, "Gentlemen, may I introduce Dr Scott?"

John turned to see another figure approaching and had to do a double take for fear that his alcohol consumption had actually been significantly higher than he had earlier assumed. If he had not been acutely aware that Sherlock were stood next to him, dressed in a black suit, and bow tie, a crisp white shift and hair unusually slicked back to hide his curls, he would have been certain that he was making his way over to the group at that very moment.

The man was tall and slim with chocolate tresses, dressed in a grey suit that complimented his silvery eyes and an alluring grin plastered on his face.

"My gosh, if it isn't Sherlock Holmes!" He made a large point of shaking his hand the moment he reached them, and John began to feel uneasy, sneaking a look sideways at his friend whose false rosy face had turned rather stoic as he nodded at the newcomer, returning the handshake forcefully, "And Dr John Watson. What a delight." They too exchanged sharp shakes, though this did nothing to settle John's anxiety, if anything raising it significantly. "Scott's the name." He nodded at them, smiling toothily before turning to the other gentlemen,

"Ah Phillip wonderful to see you again, and Professor, I hardly recognised you!"

"How have you been dear boy? It's been a fair while since we last met," Professor Gordon responded happily, embracing Dr Scott briefly before looking him all over, obviously eager to drink him in after a supposed lengthy period of absence.

"Life goes on and all that, I hadn't expected to se you here."

"Yes, yes, we're back for a few weeks. I have some exciting news!" He seemed to perk up at this, as though he had just remembered his purpose in being in the room and John's curiosity piqued. It seemed as though Sherlock's did too as he turned his attention from his doppelganger to the Professor. "Myself and-" He stopped suddenly, a pasting look overtaking his face as he paled, "Oh…Oh my. Scott, my lad. I feel I must let you know now, so that you can prepare. Miss Margaret is also in attendance this evening."

John eyed the two of them warily in confusion, particularly as a surprised look cast its shadow across the younger mans face as he momentarily pondered his words. Gulping a little, he forced the smile back onto his face,

"Well…In that case, I had better acquire her a large white wine. Excuse me," He nodded at the four of them and then hurried away, assumingly to find said beverage for the obviously formidable 'Miss Margaret'. John could only guess that the woman in question was another Professor that had once tutored Dr Scott and found it amusing to think that she had the ability to have such an affect on him that Professor Gordan had felt the need to warn the young man.

"Ah. There she is," Professor Gordon commented, causing both John and Sherlock to peer over his shoulder in the direction of where he was waving frantically. "Miss Margaret! Miss Margaret!"

John visibly flinched when he realised that the only woman in that direction was busy handing a shawl to an attendant and patting down a satin steel blue, off shoulder, floor length dress, and rearranging the parting of the slit in her skirt that ended midway up her thigh. Her thick brown hair hung over her face, obscuring her from view, but John could tell from her physique that she was not the elderly woman he had imagined. He gulped and whispered, "My god…" and could practically feel Sherlock rolling his eyes at him despite not once glancing in his friend's direction.

"Miss Margaret!" Professor Gordon called again, and she must have heard him this time, she flipped her hair as she turned in their direction. John almost swallowed himself. He felt Sherlock turn to concrete beside him and John forgot how to breath. The confused face of Molly was staring back at them.

A smile broke out over her face as she seemed to recognise the Professor and began to make her way over to them before stopping suddenly, having apparently spotted the two of them stood a short way away from her intended target. The Professor was waving at her frantically and she seemed to be contemplating whether to run away of not. She closed her eyes for an unnatural period of time before drawing in a deep breath and then sweeping towards the four of them.

"Professor. There you are." She appeared nervous, but her voice did not betray her, her eyes flickering between the four of them in rapid succession. John however appeared to have lost the ability to speak and gaped at her open mouthed, vaguely aware that Sherlock hadn't moved an inch since her arrival.

"Miss Margaret, I had wondered when you were going to appear, you remember Mr Green?" He gestured to Phillip and she gave him her undivided attention, holding out her hand to which he took with a flourish, pressing his lips to the back of it and bowing to her slightly.

"Enchanté Madmoiselle."

"Delighted to see you again Mr Green. I trust Mrs Green is well?"

"Quite so my dear. Mother has celebrated her 98th birthday last month and still insists on attending to the flower beds herself!"

'So…Molly knows the people here…Although…' John thought carefully, 'Strange that they don't address her as Molly.' His confusion at the situation was spiralling out of control and he tried to catch Sherlocks eye, but he was simply staring blankly at Molly whilst she was trying obviously not to crack under his steely gaze.

"Have you met-" Began the Professor, only for Molly to cut him off, rounding on John suddenly,

"Why yes, John! It's so good to see you again, in the flesh." She beamed at him and took a step forwards, raising her arms a little as if to embrace him, but perhaps thinking better of it and instead giving him a small wave of her fingers, "Dr Watson is actually father to my godchild, Professor."

"Ah, this is John? I must say, Sir, you have done a fine job raising the young Rosamund. From what Margaret has said, she is a fine young lady."

At this, John straightened and lifted his chin slightly, pride and appreciation pulsing through his veins at the thought of Molly parading his ego along with the generous appreciation she had supposedly shown his daughter in front of her associates.

"She is quite the wonder." Molly commented, "I can't wait to see her again."

"And she you." John commented light - heartedly, the awkwardness of the situation having been temporarily forgotten until Molly turned her attention once more to the elephant in the room.

"Er…Mr Holmes was previously an associate of mine when I worked at the hospital here. I assisted in some of his investigations whilst he operated for Scotland Yard." She seemed to draw every ounce of her strength to look at Sherlock and smile graciously at him. He gave her nothing in return by way of an expression, remaining completely unreadable and making the atmosphere uncomfortable. John's eyes flickered to his right hand, noting the slight tremor present, which was quickly quashed when Sherlock balled his hand into a tightly clenched fist. John narrowed his eyes in apprehension. His friend was supressing…Something. He was usure as to what but did not particularly want to find out despite his curiosity.

An awkward silence fell over them all, and Molly began to fiddle with her small reticule, shifting from foot to foot before Phillip cleared his throat.

"Well, perhaps Professor I could give you my number? Whenever you get a chance, you can call me to discuss-"

"Yes, yes, quite." Professor Gordon began rummaging in his pockets, producing a small paper napkin, and then returning, presumably to find a writing implement.

"Ah, one moment please," Molly said hastily apparently eager to escape the discomfort of the quiet. "I always carry a pen somewhere," With that, she began to dig around inside of her bag with some fever to try to assist.

"Always prepared, Miss Margaret." Professor Gordon stated proudly, and after glancing around them cleared his throat nervously, "Now, there is something I need to mention."

"Oh, yes?" She responded absently, not looking at him as she continued her search,

"Yes. There is…That is to say…Here today-"

"Here we go!" She pulled the pen out and held it towards him, a confused look creeping onto her features as she finally registered the discomfort etched into face as he removed the item from her,

"Margaret Hooper. What a sight you are after all this time." Came the voice of Dr Scott to the left of them and John saw Molly visibly freeze momentarily, her brows furrowing suddenly as she appeared to recognise the voice but was seemingly unsure of herself. She straightened slowly and gradually rotated to face him. Her face drained of blood immediately and her entire being seemed to sag as she released a heavy breath.

The reaction bewildered John increasingly. Seemingly Molly knew Dr Scott as well, and was less than pleased to see him, or perhaps in shock. Her lips trembled a little as she spoke in a voice at a much lower volume than previous,

"W…William?" She asked uncertainly, and he began striding over to them, a glass of white wine held firmly in his hand and a grin spreading across his featured manically. When he was within reaching difference, he gave her a toothy smirk,

"Hey Mags, long time no see."

"Wills!" Molly threw her arms around his neck suddenly and dragged him straight into her clumsily and he chuckled at her, careful not to spill the drink as he lifted her off of her feet with the other arm held firmly around her waist.

'Shock it was then,' John thought, his eyes slipping back to Sherlock who he caught gulping thickly, eyeing the two laughing adults wearily. His mask had slipped, and anger floated across his expression momentarily before he tucked it back away.

Dr Scott lowered Molly to the ground, and she took his cheeks into her hands and looked his face all over in apparent wonder. John noted that he did not remove his arm from around her and stared down at her with a look of wonder on his face.

"You got old." She stated calmly before blushing furiously as she realised exactly what had come out of her mouth, "Oh my, I am so, so sorry, I didn't-"

"Never changed have you Maggie?"

She stood back out of his embrace, lacing her fingers together and staring at him from under her lashes even as he continued to snicker at her.

"Sorry." She bit her lip in penance and looked around her nervously. A loud bell sounded behind them somewhere and Molly practically jumped out of her skin, "Oh…" She giggled nervously, patting down her dress again,

"Well gents," Continued Dr Scott, "Shall we?" He turned back to Molly, "My lady?" He held out his arm to her, and this seemed to fluster her even further and she cleared her throat a little before shyly slipping her hand around the crook of his arm and allowing him to lead her away from them and towards the dining hall.

Japan's Arc Angel x