Previously: Sherlock moved so fast that Molly only saw a blur; suddenly he was towering over Brook, who merely blinked and stared up at him with a lazy smile. "However, Mr. Brook, I'm afraid I'm not interested in ruling the world. Taking down my brother would mean I'd have to take his place and if there's one thing I can't stand, it's government work."

He gave an exaggerated shudder to punctuate his point before stepping around the other man. Towards Molly. "Now. If you're finished making offers I find all too easy to refuse - and if you're sure you don't want a taste?" He tilted his head toward Molly and raised an eyebrow, reaching out to curl his fingers around her neck while she tried to remember how to breathe. "No? Then please excuse me, my actions at the club notwithstanding, I really do prefer not to feed - or fuck - in front of an audience."

"What a pity," Brook pronounced before shrugging lightly and strolling toward the front door. "Do let me know if you change your mind - about that or about taking out your brother. You wouldn't necessarily have to take over his duties as head of the Holmes Clan if you officially joined another one. But of course, you know that."

"I'll be sure give your proposal all the consideration it deserves," Sherlock replied, matching Brook stare for stare. Just when Molly thought it would devolve into physical violence between them, Brook laughed and turned his back on them, pulling the door shut behind him.


Molly blinked herself awake, vaguely surprised to realize that she'd slept at all. When she stirred, she realized she wasn't alone in the bed. Indeed, she was more or less wrapped in Sherlock's embrace, her head resting on his chest and one leg thrown over both of his. The sheets and blanket had been kicked off at some point and lay in a heap at the foot of the bed, but she wasn't cold, and neither was he. Apparently he'd been there more than just a few minutes, long enough for her warmth to suffuse him.

She studied him as he slept, wondering at how youthful he looked, how vulnerable with the furrows in his brow eased and the small lines around his eyes and mouth vanished entirely. She knew he'd been Turned when he was fairly young, but through some quirk of Vampire physiology, he'd continued to age in appearance until he reached his early 30s. But asleep he seemed closer to the teenaged boy he'd been, and she felt a wave of compassion wash over her, almost a sense of mourning for the boy he'd been on that long-ago night.

With an unpleasant jolt, she remembered his true age: he was in his mid 70s. Old enough to be her grandfather.

She hadn't allowed herself to think about it, even after he shared the story of his Turning. The clinical part of her had been too interested in the physical details to worry about such things, while the very female part of her had been basking in the fact that he'd told her something so intimate, so personal, about himself.

But now...now she was faced with some very unpleasant truths, truths she'd done her very best to ignore. He was a Vampire. She was Human. Unless he Turned her, one day she would grow old, like Mrs. Hudson, and eventually die while he lived on.

He and their child.

Thoughts of the new life growing within her gave her no peace, not even when she picked up the print-out of the scan and studied it. Sherlock had left the light on for her, a courtesy that normally brought a smile to her face, but not today.

She lay the scan back on the night-stand and shuddered. A frown marred Sherlock's pale, perfect brow, his lips turning downward but his eyes remaining closed. Molly glanced over at the wind-up alarm clock to see how long she'd slept, and was stunned to see that the dial read nearly four o'clock. Somehow she'd managed to sleep most of the day away; no wonder Sherlock felt so warm against her!

Her stomach chose that moment to gurgle with hunger, and she reluctantly disentangled herself from her bedmate. Hesitating only a little, she leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. He didn't move, still deep in his Vampiric sleep, as she swung her legs over the side of the bed and got to her feet.

Her mind continued in worrying circles as she padded into the bathroom to relieve herself and splash some cold water on her face. Fears for the future, concerns about the present, nothing to bring her any sort of comfort in the moment. Even waking to find herself in Sherlock's hold held no comfort today; why hadn't he let her know he was coming to bed, told her what his fretful violin playing had helped him to work out the way he usually did? She tried reminding herself that Rich Brook seemed to be an even bigger threat to them than Mycroft, but that only sent her brain spinning off into even darker avenues.

She left the bathroom and headed for the kitchen. Since she'd moved in Sherlock had begrudgingly made space for her there so she wouldn't have to rely entirely on Mrs. Hudson for meals or a cup of tea. She automatically moved a pile of empty (and clean, thankfully) petri dishes to the side in order to slide the electric kettle forward when a noise at the door froze her in place.

Even though it was daytime and she knew it couldn't be him, she broke out in a cold sweat at the thought that Brook might have returned. Or sent someone in his place - surely he had half-Vampire Nosferatu in his employ?

She relaxed only a little as she heard a familiar calling her through the door. "Hello? It's Mary, are you in, Molly?"

Molly let her in, feeling Mary's curious gaze on her as she relocked the door behind her. "Are you all right?" the other woman asked, concern coloring her normally cheerful voice. "Bill Wiggins showed up at my clinic about an hour ago, telling me Sherlock wanted me to come over before it got dark, but he didn't say why. He brought me here, let me in, then took right off again. Do you know what this is about? Are you all right?" she asked again, eyes centering on the other woman's abdomen.

"I'm fine, just a bit shaken up, actually," Molly replied, resting her hands on her small baby bump. She started to explain what had happened the night before, but was interrupted by the sound of a key turning in the door.

It was Mrs. Hudson, but right behind her was John Watson, and following him was DI Lestrade, whom Molly had only met once before. The two men were carrying trays laden with food, and settled them on the coffee table as they greeted the two women, while Mrs. Hudson headed into the flat's kitchen, clearly intent on making tea.

"What is this, a war council?" Mary quipped, but her eyes were suspicious.

"Something like," John replied. "At least, that's how Wiggins made it sound when he rang me up earlier. He said Molly would explain, and that Sherlock wanted us all to stay here until he wakes up at dusk."

Molly shifted uncomfortably as all eyes fell on her. Clearing her throat, she quickly told them about Rich Brook, flushing red and unable to meet any of their eyes as she explained how she and Sherlock had first met him. She hadn't said anything to either John or Mary about the Viewing, and judging by their shocked reactions Sherlock hadn't either. Lestrade, in fact, seemed ready to murder Mycroft and Sherlock both, let alone Rich Brook, for forcing her into such a horrible situation.

She was quick to defend Sherlock when the DI's anger seemed ready to rocket out of control. "I agreed to do it, Greg. It seemed like the best way to keep Mycroft satisfied - I mean, that we were actually going along with what he wanted," she stammered out, once again feeling her face heat up with embarrassment. "If Sherlock and I cooperated, then he wouldn't feel the need to pry into our lives any further. And you know that would put all of us in danger."

"All of us but his brother," Greg muttered, obviously not at all appeased. "I'm beginning to wonder if trusting Sherlock was a mistake."

"It's not," Molly said, with more force than she'd meant to. "And before you start making accusations, no, I'm not under some sort of spell or being controlled by him. You all know that's not how it works anyway; even if he was controlling me, that only lasts a few hours at most."

"Unless that's just what they want us to think," Greg muttered, but he seemed to have calmed a bit. "Still don't see why he needed us to come over and wait for him to wake up. Some of us have jobs to do - no offense," he added quickly as he realized his faux pas.

"None taken," Molly said tightly.

"Tell us more about Rich Brook and why Sherlock thinks he's a bigger threat than Mycroft," John interjected, gently steering them back on topic. He nodded his thanks to Mrs. Hudson as she brought in a tray of tea cups, sugar and cream.

"Tell me why I'm being included in this strategy session first, if you don't mind," Mary said. "I'm not part of your little rebellion, and neither is Mrs. Hudson. So why are you acting as if we are?"

"I think it's because Sherlock knows we're all in the same danger, because we're all his associates," Molly said hesitantly.

"That's exactly it."

Every head swiveled toward the kitchen, every set of eyes opened in shock at the sight that greeted them: Sherlock awake and alert, standing next to Mrs Hudson with over an hour of daylight left.


A/N: Sorry for the very long delay, but I am really crappy at action and plotting and let it stymie me for way too long. Thanks for sticking with me and I hope to have the next chapter up with less of a lag. I already have it started so that should help!