A few weeks passed uneventfully at Baker Street, John having dutifully attended to Squish's ankle was happy to let her walk on it without the aid of the crutches. This marked a return to business as usual and though there were no more gunshots in the early morning, Sherlock did begin to drag them out late into the night once more. Squish returned to her job though John insisted that someone walk her to and from Baker Street and on occasions would give her his own gun for safety. To the surprise of everyone Sherlock continued to see Molly, to the extent that Squish demanded to know his intentions, but was brushed off with a characteristic, terse and sarcastic reply.

One morning, a month after the first date, Squish came into the living room, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes and yawning to find Sherlock sitting opposite Mycroft who was sat in the chair normally inhabited by John. Having surveyed the scene sufficiently she tried to quickly and quietly leave the room and barricade herself in her own bedroom. She was pretty sure that there was a bottle of coke and a chocolate bar that would tide her over until Mycroft left, and as his visit were notoriously brief that wouldn't be longer than half an hour.

However as she turned to leave, Mycroft's polite slow voice stopped her.

"Ah Squish, I have been meaning to drop in. How are your injuries recovering? I understand from your records that they were quite severe?"

Squish slowly turned once again, silently cursing herself for not having a lie in, she smiled at her uncle.

"Their improving, thank you Mycroft. John says that he can't see any complications with how the ribs are healing and the ankle's now pretty much back to normal."

Mycroft smiled.

"How many times must I insist that you call me Uncle, my dear? Even if my brother treats you like a stranger, I feel it's important that you feel that the Holmes' are your family. And the scratches on your back? How are they healing?"

Sherlock interjected here, his deep voice under laid with sarcasm, "They aren't scratches Mycroft. They are deep cuts. From a knife."

By this point Squish had made her way across the room and was perching on the arm of Sherlock's chair, and put her hand on his shoulder, gently warning him to be polite.

"Much improved. We think that only the middle one will scar and the bandages are coming off in a few days."

"Oh good I am glad. I was hoping that you would wear the backless dress that I gave you for Christmas. It would be perfect for the occasion and of course it would be a shame to waste it"

Sherlock leaned forward in his chair, "and as I said brother, we aren't attending."

Mycroft sighed and also leaned back, "Sherlock, its Mummy's birthday, and she hasn't seen you or her granddaughter in months, you're coming and that's that."

"And I have to decline the invitation. For one thing I am in the middle of important case and for another Squish has important meeting with the hospital on Monday. Please don't let the door hit you on the way out."

Mycroft reached into his briefcase and laid some shots on the coffee table, "I imagine if these happened to make their way to Mummy's desk, she would be only too happy to come down and see you for herself."

Squish picked up the photos and gasped. The shots were from a CCTV camera and she recognised the outside of Molly's apartment building. The foreground of the shot was two people kissing, each shot zoomed in until the shot was of the two faces. They were of Sherlock and Molly, her hands were entwined in his hair, and his were cupping her face. It was an intimate moment and Squish felt herself blushing that she was intruding on it, but angry that Mycroft had the audacity to violate it. She passed them to Sherlock, whose eyes narrowed.

"When did this happen" she asked, as he flicked through the photos.

"Last week" he said shortly and tuning to Mycroft, "this is low even for you brother."

Mycroft shrugged his shoulders indifferently, "You relationship with Ms Hooper…"

"Dr Hooper, Mycroft, Doctor, she did attend medical school and they don't just give medical degrees out to anyone. "

Mycroft stiffened slightly, "As I was saying, you relationship with DR Hooper is of little interest with me, but I doubt the same could be said of Mummy, and I'm sure that if you don't see her this weekend and these photos happen to be anonymously posted to her, I believe you'd have a house guest."

Squish stood up now; when she spoke her voice would have frozen the summer, "You've made our position perfectly clear uncle, and we'll get back to you shortly, now please don't less us distract you from the upcoming Ghanaian elections. Goodbye."

Mycroft stared at her hard and unblinkingly then smiled and nodded his head. Gathering up his umbrella and briefcase he rose to his feet, he (very deliberately Squish thought) left the stills on the table, he then left the flat and the sound of the front door closing could be heard from the flat. Squish turned to Sherlock who was still examining the photos

"Are you ok?" she asked as she made her way into the kitchen, finally able to make herself some tea.

"Hmm. Yes, these photo's aren't fake mores the pity, Mother is sure to have seen right through the if they had been, shame"

Squish sighed and all but fell into the chair, clutching her mug like a drowning ma clings to driftwood. "I meant you Sherlock. Your brother is blackmailing you with photos of your first kiss"

Sherlock looked up at her surprised, "what do you mean my first kiss?"

She snorted, "Oh please it's all in your technique. The classic slightly far away stance so you can pretend that you were aiming for her cheek if she doesn't kiss you back. The slightly too angled head, slightly awkward initial start, all in the technique"

Sherlock stared at her bewildered, "You sound knowledgeable. Why?"

Squish stared back at him, now it was her turn to be bewildered, "You really don't know? And you can't deduce it?"

"Oh I've known for some time that you've been meeting a boy. For about three weeks or so correct? I followed you actually. When you went to the park? He's quite tall isn't he? But you kissed him! And I didn't know. That's…strange"

"YOU FOLLOWED ME? WHILE I WAS ON A DATE! YOU ARE SUCH A TWAT! "

And with that she stormed off into her bedroom, making doubly sure to slam the door behind her. The noise resonated through the flat, and caused John to come running into the living room,

"What have you done now?" he said to Sherlock exasperatedly.

Sherlock jerked from his reverie, "Oh it's not important, you need to start to pack."

"Umm why?"

"Oh you're coming with us to Mummy's birthday party. I mean where would we be without our blogger?" he said with a smirk.