A/N: Oh My! Your responses have been overwhelming and utterly amazing. You guys know who you are and you're just fabulous. You lighten up my working day! For that I love you guys!

Anyways, I apologise if there were grammar issues in the last one, I sneakily uploaded it at work using a copy and paste from my private email account so there probably were typos in there. In that case I really am apologetic! Again this is done the same way and sneakily been written since half 8 this morning while flicking to work every so often!

Also one last note, if you love Sherlock, please go and check out Freewaygirl and her story which is called "A Case of the Girl on the Run" – it is utterly awesome even if it's not Sherlolly. But in all honesty do go and check it out because it's well worth a read!

Anway enjoy the third installment!

Day 22: Baking/Cooking

A Sweet Tooth For A Bitter Taste

The month that passed in Elderflower Mansion was quiet and domestic. Molly served Sherlock his supper every evening and he made her talk. He was piqued by the young woman, so awkward yet graceful. She was a calamity of contradictions; it was like trying to untangle a chain, one knot led to another.

The tranquility that had flooded the Holmes' home was shattered by the arrival of a messenger.
Mrs Bells came hurrying into the kitchen where Molly was acquiring bread and cheese for Sherlock's supper.

"Lord Holmes and Master Holmes are returning!" The kitchen was thrown into a flurry and Molly just managed to slip out amongst the sudden servants dashing everywhere with her master's supper firmly intact.

After climbing the servants stairs she knocked once politely and was recieved less than cordially.
Even by the dim light of the fire Molly could see Sherlock was irritated.

"Good evening Sir." She bobbed a curtsey after placing the platter on his table.

He said nothing, but she was used to the mood swings, normally it was when one of his experiments had gone awry and he would fall into a broody silence for hours, sometimes days. However it had been fairly rare and his anger was somewhat internal. Molly was yet to feel the wrath of a Holmes family member.

"My brother is coming home." He suddenly growled and stood from his chair in a swift movement. Molly was no longer startled at this either; he was a pendulum man.

"Is that not good Sir?" She asked, tidying away his papers yet again.

"Not at all, he is inconceivable. He is arrogant and clever, he now holds a minor position in the British Government and it has only exacerbated those traits. Regrettably he can be pig-headed and cruel. He takes great delight in hurting the feelings of those around him." Sherlock had his arms folded as he stared at the flames.

"That's not true Sherlock." His mother was standing at the door. Molly looked down out of respect for the older woman. "Miss Hooper dear please don't be so formal. Yes Sherlock your brother can be a little arrogant but he does not take pleasure from insulting you." His mother sat on the spare armchair and took the tea-cup that had been sat beside the teapot.

"I'll fetch another cup for you sir." Molly mumbled and slipped from the room.

"When will they be arriving?" Sherlock asked grumpily.

"Tomorrow morning." Violet smiled. "How is Miss Hooper? She hasn't run screaming and cursing yet so I can only presume that is good news?" She looked up, eyes full of innocence at her son's searching look.

"She's is adequate mother. She knows her place and is intelligent enough for me to bear." Sherlock replied neutrally; his mother was up to something again.

"Well I can only hope she can bear you as long as you can bear her." There was that twinkle again.

The next day the elder Holmes' men arrived with a clatter of hooves. The staff had turned out in their best clothes again for a brief inspection by Lord Benedict Holmes but it was swift and Molly was soon out of the starched clothes into her more comfortable working ones.

There were a few jibes between the brothers throughout the day as the family toured the gardens. Lord and Lady Holmes happy to be back together again, even if they were discreet Sherlock saw the lift in his mother's attitude around her husband.

It wasn't until dinner that events took place; jibes and deductions that went too far.
It wasn't until Molly's appearance at the staff door of the dining room, dessert in hand. She felt Sherlock's eyes on her but behaved cordially towards the Holmes family. Before she even put the platter down Mycroft's voice broke the comfortable silence that comes with over-eating rich foods.

"She's a thief Mother. Why must you take in these pity case girls?" Mycroft said bored, noticing Sherlock tense and the serving girl in question freeze up.

"I beg your pardon Mycroft?" His father said icily.

"She's a thief Father, look at the way she's behaving, tense and shifty eyed; she's nervous and wants to flee." He smirked at the look of anger on Sherlock's face.

"That is because you have just accused her on one of your groundless deductions yet again Mycroft." His mother spluttered. "Are you questioning my judgement on employing our household staff?!" Her deadly question should've warned Mycroft that he was treading a dangerous path but it didn't, his time in London working with the Government had put him above his station.

"Actually, the real question is why Sherlock is so angered at my words. Do you have a soft spot for the girl? Sherlock Holmes, my brother, dealing with emotions. Something is serious." His voice was lewd, mocking and Violet watched her youngest son coil in anger.

"Stop Mycroft." Violet ordered.

"She has a secret Mother, perhaps one that involves our darling Sherlock..." He was insinuating something crude and Molly was scarlet. She had deposited the platter on the table and Mycroft was leering at her; she felt sick. "She's either thieving or attempting to get pregnant by Sherlock, how can you not see this!" He was angry now that he wasn't being listened to.

"She is neither Mycroft. Do not talk about things you do not understand!" Violet had stood up now, she was furious at her eldest son, her husband had remained sitting but was levelling Mycroft with a death glare. Sherlock was sat in the corner, shaking silently with anger. It only intensified when he caught Molly's eyes; she was terrified of what was happening in front of her - after all it would decide her future.

"Miss Hooper can you kindly find Mrs Bells and tell her it's like Bleinhem Palace again." Lord Holmes suddenly stood and it was at his movement that sense seemed to shock back into Molly and she curtseyed low, shakily, all four Holmes' saw and as sedately as possible, headed for the door.
When the door had closed though Molly felt the tears track down her cheeks and she ran to find Mrs Bells. The old woman got the story out of a hiccoughing and terrified Molly, leaving the unhappy girl in Mrs Lamb's capable hands while she and Polly made sure none of the other servants were near the dining room when the domestic argument really kicked in.

"Mother how can you not believe me when I say that girl has a secret!" Mycroft had thrown his dinner to the floor.

"Yes she does have a secret Mycroft but you are not privvy to it!" Violet had rounded the table and was standing up to her much taller son.

"Violet dear calm yourself. Mycroft is being impertinent but I will deal with it." Benedict placed his hand on his wife's shoulder and felt the anger curling in her body. However at her husband's touch she relaxed somewhat. "Sherlock, please take your mother to my study and sit with her a while." His father looked his youngest son dead in the eye and saw a fire in his son's eyes. The pair left, Sherlock escorting his suddenly fatigued Mother from the room, she was leaning heavily on his arm and Benedict was angered at his son's arrogance.

"Mycroft, how dare you think you can put yourself above this family." Benedict rounded on his son as soon as the pair had left. Mycroft was taken aback at his father's tone; he was siding with the serving girl?! "I got you your job in the government's secret service because I thought you were mature enough to cope with the stresses it brings. Clearly I was wrong. You are taking out your frustrations on your mother and our staff. You have been back for less than 24 hours and you believe that you can belittle every servant we have here." Mycroft had never seen his father so mad. "Yes Miss Hooper has a secret and yes she could probably be said as a charity case but your mother has very good reasons for taking Miss Hooper in and if she has not told you then clearly there is a reason. Go apologise to your mother."

Even when Mycroft went to apologise it turned into another argument.

"She has a secret Mother and as future head of this house I have a right to know!" Mycroft had shouted at the older woman.

"How dare you Mycroft Holmes, your father is still well and good and at this rate you will not be in charge of this household!" Violet was appalled at her son's arrogant behaviour.

"You tell me woman!" That was when he had raised his hand to hit Violet; however Sherlock, who'd been watched from the corner of the room took the blow instead.

It had been the final straw for not only Violet Holmes but also for Benedict; he may have been somewhat aloof and incredibly clever but he loved his wife more than the Earth and nobody was going to hurt her. Especially not his own son.

Of course all of this took place away from the ears of the servants, who had been disturbed at the way dinner had gone. Molly was cowering in the room she shared with Polly, the other woman comforting her. Lydia Markson flew into the room.

"Mycroft's leaving! The eldest Holmes is leaving!" She all but shouted and the other two girls were suddenly aware of the sound of horses' hooves. The three ran to the window that overlooked the courtyard, pressing their faces to the small window. The lone figure of what undoubtedly was Mycroft Holmes vaulting onto his horse while light spilled out onto the gravel was a scary one. It made Molly shrink back from the man who had accused her of being a thief, he'd been onto finding out her secret and she couldn't have that.

Sherlock had found the three women huddled on the stairs, he had come up behind them silently, he watched Molly hang back from the window, but saw Polly rub soothing circles into the young woman's arm. Her hunched shoulders, foot scuffing the floor, fingers twiddling with a loose string on her apron told Sherlock she was nervous and upset. He cleared his throat and deliberately stood on the creaky top stair.

All three whirled at his movement and curtseyed hastily, attempting to hide the guilty look on their faces.

"Miss Hooper, if you would follow me. Miss Markson, MissBell can you please attend to Mrs Bells, in cleaning the dining room. I apologise on my family's behalf." His rich baritone voice was somewhat muted and Molly could hear the anger in his tone still.

The other two scurried off, Polly searching her friend's face but left when Molly discreetly nodded.
Sherlock led her downstairs to the kitchens and Molly started to panic.

They were going to throw her out and leave her outside in the dark!

"Can you at least let me collect my belongings first?" She broke the silence that had shrouded the pair. He looked confused momentarily until understanding showed in his eyes and Molly was shocked to see a brief smile.

"I'm not dismissing you Miss Hooper." Sherlock turned and started to walk again, stopping briefly when he realised a bemused Molly was not following him. "Come along Miss Hooper."
When they entered the kitchen, Molly only just realised it was silent; it was empty, devoid of all servants, it felt empty without Mrs Lamb's loud voice ordering various helpers around.

"What's going on Sir?"

"For tonight you can call me Sherlock. This is my apology to you, on my brother's behalf."

"I do not understand... Sherlock." The name felt weird on her tongue, sounded strange in her voice. She missed the look that passed through Sherlock's eyes when she uttered his name.

"Well Miss Hooper..."

"Please call me Molly then, if we are to be informal." Molly suddenly blurted, and this time she didn't miss the look that flitted across his features.

"Very well... Molly... for the way my brother behaved, it was disgustingly rude and he has upset my parents greatly. Especially because of his sudden violent streak that seems to have appeared." Molly knew that the bruise forming on Sherlock's cheek was from his brother. "For his manner towards you, I have come to offer a peace treaty. How about we make a cake together?" Suddenly Sherlock was very nervous; he was sweating, his palms were sticky and all because of this small, mousey looking serving girl staring up at him with those confused eyes.

"Errr I'd love to Sherlock. You know how to bake?" She was just as nervous as he, she was chewing her lip and her eyes darted across to the furnace which was still crackling away.

"I was a very curious child, much to my mother's chagrin and I do indeed know how to bake a cake." He smiled suddenly and the awkward tension and the pressure Sherlock had felt vanished as she grinned back at him.

His brother's harsh words seemed to fade away as Molly darted around the kitchen collecting utensils and ingredients while Sherlock shrugged off his jacket, undid his cravat and collected one of Mrs Lamb's old aprons from the hook by the door. With everything assembled in front of them the pair mixed in the ingredients, arguing every so often when their family recipes differed.
Sherlock didn't miss the wistful look on Molly's face when she talked of her mother but he didn't pursue it - she'd had enough tears for the evening.

Neither of them saw Violet and Benedict standing at the doorway as they argued over the amount of flour they should use.

"You're a meddling old woman." Lord Benedict kissed his greying wife on the forehead, seeing the smile that graced her features and the twinkling in her eyes.

"Ben my love, if Sherlock had his way the opposite gender would be an unknown thing to him for the rest of his life." She cuddled into her husband and quietly the old couple slipped back to the study, each pondering their individual sons'.