A/N: I'M BAAACK! Honestly, I've got two days left of this internship and its a little monotonous! But it allowed me to produce this!

(Side note: I have no idea when colours came into existence, I've only got a hazy idea of what sort of time frame this story is even set in - it's a little generic but I'll let you decide!)

As always, drop me a review! Because you make my day everytime you do, plus I reply if I can!

As Violet and Benedict ate the beautifully iced sponge cake the next night, Sherlock couldn't help but notice the glint in his mothers eyes. Panicking again slightly, he held fast and watched as she complimented the cake she was eating.

"Mrs Lamb!" She called to the robust woman at the edge of the room, all prepared to clean up.

"Yes Milady?"

"This is a beautifully made cake! Iced so wonderfully as well!" Sherlock was aghast as her realised his mother's teasing. "You really must make it again!" That twinkle was echoed in Mrs Lamb's.

"It's not my cake milady. It is a delightful recipe by Miss Hooper Ma'am. I am also to believe that Master Sherlock added his own baking expertise." Sherlock was now pouting but incredibly glad Molly had been allowed an early night. Turning her gaze onto her youngest son, Violet Holmes laughed at his childish expression.

"It's a divine cake son. You really must allow Miss Hooper to assist you when you're baking again." Violet patted the sulking young man on the hand before spooning into the slice before her.

"Thank you Mother." Sherlock was still grumpy but dinner passed in amicable fashion and the three Holmes withdrew to their sitting room without any more maternal interference.

"Sherlock darling, feel free to return to your own quarters. Your father and I need to discuss your brother." Violet raised an eyebrow and Sherlock raised his in return.

"Certainly mother. I have been left without a serving girl for the night thanks to him." Pulling himself upright and dusting off his jacket, Sherlock kissed his mother's hand and acknowledged his Father before slipping quietly from the room.

"Sherlock I know you're still there!" She raised her voice somewhat and heard his chuckle. "You haven't tried that trick since you were eight and I locked you in the linen cupboard." Violet heard his footfalls disappear up the stairs and turned to her husband.

"Miss Hooper is a special young lady." Benedict swirled the amber liquid of his brandy in the crystal cut glass and stared into the flames. "You do not know how grateful I am that you allowed her into our home sweetheart." He heard the rustle of fabric and felt the pressure of his wife's hand on his forearm.

"Do not worry yourself Ben. I will continue to offer Molly a place until you've caught him." He saw the soft smile on Violet's face and pressed his lips once more to her forehead.

"Genevieve and Gregory Hooper were such a lovely couple. Doting parents on sweet Molly. I never dreamed..." Benedict put the glass on the mantle and turned to face Violet.

"You never dreamed that you would be her guardian I know but with the danger that she faces ..." Violet drew off and saw the worry written into her husband's face. "He won't find her here."

"Not unless I deal with Mycroft. I was hasty in sending him away." Benedict said heavily and the pair embraced; a life in the Secret Service meant everywhere you looked there were enemies and secrets.

"Master Holmes?" Sherlock jumped and saw the door open slightly. Molly stood with her head poked in and he was desperate to push his pulse back to normal.

"I have given you the night off Miss Hooper?" Sherlock was uncertain as he watched her enter with a tea tray.

"It's supper time Sir and all the other girls' are busy with their own duties. I am paid to serve, not to have an early night." She smiled and deposited the tray with barely a sound before rearranging his paperwork again. "Besides there's a rumour that you have pig's eyes in here and the other girl's solidly refused to enter." Sherlock snorted; serving girls could be so feminine at times. But Molly was different, yet again.

"Are you feeling better then Miss Hooper?" He enquired quietly, long fingers crossed, the pads pressed together.

"Much better Sir." She answered with a definitive tone to it.

"I have been told by my mother to pass on my compliments to the baker of the cake last night." He slipped in and watched, with amusement and confusion as she froze temporarily.

"Then indeed sir, it must have been a very nice cake made by you."

"My mother knows you made it Molly." His voice was like silk on her skin and Sherlock didn't miss the shiver that passed through her at his utterance of her name.

"Thank you then Sir. My mother would've been proud to hear that." Molly finished sweeping up the paperwork into a neat bundle and went to leave.

"Sit Miss Hooper." Sherlock suddenly commanded and Molly froze, she turned and the question was clear in her eyes. "I wish to know a little more about you." Panic was evident in her features but nevertheless she did as she was bid. Maybe Mycroft was right; she really did have a secret.

"Okay Sir..."

"Sherlock."

"Sherlock...what would you like to know." She sat primly at the edge of the armchair, hands together in her lap though Sherlock watched her fidget; picking at her nails. She held herself well, spine straight, head held high, legs crossed neatly at the ankles; she sat like a Lady.

"When's your birthday?"

"Third November and yours is the 4th August Sir." He looked astounded, but only briefly.

"Favourite colour?"

"I quite like pink but it's a very expensive colour, then again I also like dark greens." She shrugged and before he opened his mouth once more, she slipped in, "Yours is either a dark blue, practically Navy or a rich purple. However purple is expensive so you opt for burgundy or deep reds." She shrugged again and he narrowed his eyes.

"Okay, favourite animal?"

"Horses, the same as yours." She wasn't fidgeting anymore, she had a look in her eyes, and Sherlock only just recognised it. It was amusement; she was enjoying him floundering at her deductions, he knew that her smile echoed one he usually used to triumph over the average individual who usually crossed his path.

"Anymore questions Sherlock?" She said sweetly and he saw the faked innocence as she giggled. She stood and bowed her head to Sherlock as he sat, staring at her shrewdly. "I should probably return to my duties Sir." She smirked again and he snorted.

"You are entertaining Molly Hooper. I shall enjoy figuring you out." Was that a flash of fear that crossed her face? Sherlock wondered what emotion made the enjoyment become a little fixed, a little faked but he didn't ponder it.

"You take your time Sir, not everything has to be rushed. Take your time with those you love, you never know how long you will get with them." She curtseyed once more and turned to leave, she was surprised to hear Sherlock stand, and was even more surprised to see the warmth on Sherlock's face.

"I am sorry about your parents Molly." He whispered and drew her hand from her side to his lips. Pressing her knuckles to his mouth he heard her muffle a gasp and lowered her hand. "I'm sure, whatever it was, it was a tragic accident."

"They... they died in a factory blast Sherlock." She whispered, throat choked by the emotion showed by Sherlock and she saw the flicker in his eyes.

"I am truly sorry." His whispered again and without thinking, pushed a stray piece of reddish brown hair behind her ear. Shocked at the intimacy of his actions, Sherlock pulled back very suddenly, refusing to look at the wide eyed Molly who seemed frozen into place.

"Good night Master Holmes." He heard the quiver in her voice and her soft footsteps, the door open and the close with a resounding click.

"Good night Miss Hooper." He said to the empty room, returning to his seat lifting the cover and seeing the final slice of the cake they had made together.