Note: I can't even express how sorry I am for being this late...
Seriously, University kills me and I've had some private disasters as well so... this took me AGES.
Spelling errors etc on my account, and as always I hope you enjoy.
„And what would that be?"
A long and uncomfortable silence followed her question. Mycroft seemed to falter, or at least that was how Molly interpreted his silentness.
Once again, Molly pondered. What could he possibly mean? His piercing gaze made her feel even more uncomfortable than she already did.
Mycroft, leaning on his still dripping wet umbrella, bend his head and frowned. To Molly it seemed as if he was just as confused as her, and she couldn't quite process that fact. If a man like Mycroft Holmes himself behaved this weirdly, then something had to be terribly wrong.
Whatever it is that makes him act like that, it has to be something of greater importance. But why doesn't he say a word? , she wondered. Is it a dead-end situation but he's clinging to the last hope ?
Her mind created the most incredible, almost apocalyptic scenarios.
„As I know you are well aware of...", Mycrofts voice brought Molly back to reality.
He had a troubled look on his face and was clearly searching for the right words to express whatever his concern was. Molly couldn't remember having ever seen him this... disperced... not even when he knew he was responsible for making Sherlocks suicide the perfect, inscrutable fake. He had handled everything in a nonchalant manner, never hesitating, always knowing which methods would provide the best results.
Molly felt a knot in her stomach.
Everything about Mycroft looked a bit out of order, now that she thought about it. A few strands of hair were out of place, he didn't maintain the blank expression anymore which he'd worn when she had entered the lab only a few minutes earlier. Even his blue tie was loosened, exposing his throat, which made him appear a bit more vulnerable to her, since she's never seen a single part of his whole appearance, and especially his suits and ties, even an ounce away from perfection.
In less than a minute the whole atmosphere in here had changed, Molly realised that - and it didn't make it any better. She was still waiting for an explanation.
„Doctor Hooper, if you could focus on our conversation instead of my exterior, please."
Molly blushed. She'd forgotten for a second that he was just as observative as his younger brother. She murmured an excuse, but he didn't seem to care, and that was a reaction totally unlike him. Molly would have expected him to be annoyed by her somewhat unsteady behavior, since that was also the impression he gave her when they'd been working together.
But in fact - he didn't even seem to be any other than exhausted. She'd got to know him as an orderly and focussed person, but also someone whose patience could be stretched very easily if people questioned his decisions or made mistakes.
...or people that get distracted easily and are preoccupied in thoughts all the time... she added notionally.
/
Mycroft watched her every reaction. She seemed lost in thought, which did not surprise him, he knew her all too well – or more precisely, he could read her like an open book. Which, by all means, made her what came closest to call it friend. Even though, of course it was no friendship. Mycroft Holmes did not need any friends. If any, he only needed domestics, people who would be good enough to do some leg work, since he detested to leave his office for any other than a meeting.
Doctor Hooper was not one of those persons who (to his mind pointlessly) tried to hide their emotions behind a wall of serious demeanour. And most of them, giving regard to his great mind that had no difficulties in tearing these walls down, failed miserably. He also detested these kinds of people, they seemed to ignore the fact that he would always be the one to vanquish such little contentions, even if they were hold only on a spiritual level.
She was one of a handful of people who Mycroft Holmes would (yet merely in case of emergency) rely on...
would trust them to do as I told them.
...because he knew what to expect. He could properly judge every detail about their methods and their practices, so he was always aware of who could be the perfect pet to do a certain job for him. There has not been a single occurence that had turned out differently than he had planned.
And still...
Molly Hooper was indeed unlike every other person he got to know over the many years of working for the British Government. Always wanting to impose others, yet she did not behave like that at all. Neither did she wear high-cost (she cannot afford it), never did she put on descreet yet charming make up (she did not have the time) nor has he ever seen her being... ordinary.
She simply did not fit in - she was clumsy, a bit timid and on top of that fairly bemused. On the other side she was, not only according to what Sherlock had already told him, but also what he had figured out himself, the most reliable, cooperative and in an emergeny also very purposeful woman he knew.
It was some kind of a paradox, everything about her, that he had not solved yet, and even though he could read her – he did not understand what he saw. It made him feel weak and a little less superior, a feeling that he has rarely ever felt before. But this only urged him to figure it out in the future but now was not the time for that. He had other things to do. The Japanese delegate was waiting for him and he was wasting his precious time.
... in a mortuary.
She still seemed a bit puzzled. He did not exactly know what she was thinking of but he would find it out anyway, so that was not of major importance for him when he began to explain.
„John Watson is about to marry a certain Mary Morstan this week, and according to the information I received you are invited as well, am I right?" It was a rethorical question. He knew he was right. Molly looked at him, with growing confusion drawn on her face.
„My brother, Sherlock, was asked to be John's best man. I can only assume how much it pains him to attend his...", Mycroft cleared his throat and searched for the right words to continue. „... best friend's wedding. It must be even worse to him, to be burdened this way in addition."
He looked right up at her. „I want you to accompany him."
/
Molly's mouth dropped open. Had Mycroft just implied what she had immediately thought of? The way he had expressed it made her shoulders drop and raise her brows in astonishment. Sherlock... had feelings for John? That changed her whole perspective of all that had happened between her and him. Of course he wouldn't love her the way she'd loved him.
Mycroft's blue eyes were piercing her, holding her gaze and forcing her to wait for what would come next. And that was the moment when she knew that he knew.
„I want you to accompany him."
Molly's ears were ringing. So this was it. He wanted her to be Sherlock's diversion, knowing exactly what she had felt for Sherlock.
She heard herself muttering something like I can't, then turning around to leave the lab, she found herself shattered inside. Not even a man like Mycroft Holmes would ever see anything else in her than a useful toy to play with whenever he feels like it.
„He needs you." He cat-called at her when she already held the door wide open so she could leave. He found find the way out of St Bart's on his own.
„It is not like I wouldn't need anyone.", she said softly but also sorrowful. She turned her head and looked back at him. He hadn't moved one inch. „And I won't be the one to fake happiness only so that Sherlock gets through this evening easier. And later on he will be suffering as well – do you expect me to dry-nurse him for the next days, if not even weeks?"
Mycroft didn't answer her question, he only wrinkled his nose and shifted weight from one leg to another. She could see this was his way of showing that he felt uncomfortable in this conversation. From the beginning on, he'd surely known that she wouldn't doubtlessly do that for him. She understood him, she also comprehended his reasoned submission. But she wouldn't do it. She had her own problems, and Sherlock was still one of them, so she would not waste her time on him any more as far back as she had.
Molly closed the door behind her without politely bowing out. And when she arrived back home she searched for her smartphone and messaged Val one question: Is this guy you mentioned before . Tom was his name? - still free to accompany me at John's wedding?
She would rather take the chance to become someone's new favourite diversion instead of staying Sherlock's there-is-no-alternative diversion. Molly went to bed and fell asleep immediately.
Val's answer came in the early morning while the young pathologist was still dreaming a strange dream, Molly's smartphone display was flashing through the gloominess of her bedroom, saying: Sure. Thought you weren't interested? ;)
Additional notes: This probably didn't turn out the way you expected but since Molly and Mycroft are two very different characters I feel like this story just needs to continue a bit more slowly than fics for other pairings. Thank you for staying with me anyway :)