A/N: For all you Mycroft fans, Mycroft makes his first appearance! Thanks to all who read, review and favorite! This is going to be a huge week for the story with lots of twists. Next chapter up Wednesday. Reviews are loved and inspiring.

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Mycroft was waiting for them in his office, sitting behind his desk and sipping a cup of tea. On a serving trolley near one chair sat a pot of tea with settings for two, an empty plate, and another plate that held toast, sausages, pastries and fresh cut fruit. John immediately sat in that chair and began filling the plate, pausing to look at Mycroft and say "thank you."

Mycroft inclined his head, then turned his attention to Sherlock, who was still standing. "Now, then, little brother. Perhaps you'd be so kind as to explain why, with James Moriarty out for your blood again, you decided this would be the perfect time to play at a romance?"

Sherlock put the requested items down in front of Mycroft, not quite looking at him. "I'm not playing at anything."

"Really," Mycroft said levelly. "Then am I to take it that this photograph of you outside Club Aquarium holding hands with Doctor Hooper is fraudulent?"

Sherlock glanced down and shook his head.

"I didn't think so. Start explaining yourself, Sherlock."

"There is nothing to explain," Sherlock said through gritted teeth.

"Oh, I rather think there is." Mycroft looked him over and frowned. "What's that in your pocket, a new mobile?"

"Yes."

Mycroft sat down his cup and held out his hand.

Sherlock blinked. "What?"

"Hand me your new mobile, please."

"Why?" Sherlock asked apprehensively.

Mycroft flexed his fingers. "Sherlock."

Sherlock slowly held the mobile out. Mycroft took it, carefully turned it around in his hand as though studying a rare bird. Then he sat it down on the desk and raised his eyebrows at his brother.

"Ridiculous choice for a new mobile," Mycroft said mildly. "Now, then. I am going to go over all the information and think, and the two of you are going to sit and be quiet while I do so." As he spoke he rose and motioned for John to stay put while motioning for Sherlock to follow him.

Sherlock looked at him. Mycroft made an impatient gesture. Sherlock moved to the middle of the room and Mycroft gently pressed a button. Schubert's Death and the Maiden began to play.

Sherlock gave Mycroft a glance that was part approving, part concerned, but followed him as they slipped soundlessly into an adjacent room.

The door closed silently behind them. Mycroft turned to face Sherlock. "Now. I estimate that we have eighty seconds remaining before Moriarty becomes suspicious. Tell me anything you can and be brief."

One minute later, John watched them reappear. Mycroft slipped back behind his desk, and Sherlock sat down in the other chair, soundlessly lifting the cup of tea. Mycroft flicked a downward glance at the items: picture of Molly's back that Lestrade had given John, Love Story video, Sherlock's copy of The Sun and the bags. He lowered the volume of the music, but did not turn it off.

He picked up his desk phone and pressed a button. "Bring me the file on Doctor Hooper. And change her status to grade two, active."

Sherlock frowned. "I hardly think that's necessary," he said, pocketing his mobile again.

"Doctor Hooper is obviously a target. If not now, then later. She was used as a warning to you, Sherlock, and if Moriarty cared enough to make her the vessel of that warning, she is still in danger. So sorry to complicate your new-found love life. Now. Has he visited you?"

"He was the taxi driver last night as we left the club," Sherlock admitted.

Mycroft smirked. "No doubt you were too besotted with Doctor Hooper to notice. And?"

"And he told me to start looking for him, not to let my 'great romance' go to my head."

"Sounds like good advice, from a madman." Mycroft crossed his arms over his chest. "Why her, Sherlock. Out of all the possibilities, why did you choose to go on a date with Doctor Hooper?"

"You are obviously aware of possibilities that I'm not," Sherlock said flatly.

"You could have gone to any number of locations and met a woman. Yet you chose her. Is it because you're familiar with her? She'll let you into the lab, give you someone's necrotic hand in a jar to take home? Because you know each other and you can skip through a lot of the things you'd find especially boring and tedious in a relationship?"

Sherlock looked down. Mycroft stared. "Good God."

John said nothing, as his mouth was, and had been, full with his breakfast, but he watched them intently. He knew better than anyone how they were when they were in the same room.

"You act as though such inclination on my part is an impossible occurrence," Sherlock said.

Mycroft raised his eyebrows. "Yes. It should have been. The only other interest you've shown in a woman was with Irene Adler, and we both know what that really was. No, no. This is different. You… care about Doctor Hooper. Why?"

Sherlock blinked. "She's my friend. She saved my life, remember?"

"Caring is not an advantage, Sherlock: I've told you this before. Of course, when did you ever want to listen to me, hmm?"

"At any rate," Mycroft continued smoothly, "You must find Moriarty before whatever plan he has goes any further. Judging by the copy of The Sun, I trust you already have an idea of where to look?"

"Yes," Sherlock said.

Mycroft nodded. "Good. Good. Keep me informed, would you?"

"Of course," Sherlock said agreeably.

John finished his food and frowned. "Hang on. You know where to look? Based on the paper he sent?"

Both of them turned to look at him. "Yes," they said in unison.

"How do you know?"

Sherlock worked on his phone as he spoke.

"The bags, John. One was damp and one was dry. The damp bag was from a Tesco. The dry one was from a Sainsbury. The damp bag smelled faintly of industrial smoke, which the dampness amplified. The dry one had traces of dirt inside, dirt that contained bits of sawdust and metal. A business that was operational wouldn't have that on their floors without cleaning it up. It came from an abandoned building, most likely a former factory, the dampness indicating condensation at a level we did not have in London last night so it's from outside London, but not so far away as to have made it difficult to obtain a copy of the tabloid and have it sent within the time frame that occurred. So, we are looking for a location within a reasonable distance that fits the criteria of both the markets and an abandoned factory nearby and…"

Sherlock smiled and held the phone up. "Here we are."

John blinked. Mycroft almost smiled.

"Well. You'd best be off, then," Mycroft said.

"Yes. Lovely visit, though," Sherlock answered.

John nodded and stood up. "Thanks again for the breakfast."

"It was my pleasure, John," Mycroft said.

They were three steps from the door when he spoke again. "And Sherlock?"

Sherlock glanced back. "Yes, Mycroft?"

"Do let me know if you need a good book about sex. I'll have one sent to you."

John struggled not to laugh as they left.

Mycroft thanked the assistant who brought him Doctor Hooper's file. He opened it and stared without seeing it.

Sherlock obviously did not see what was so apparent to everyone else. But then, emotions of that sort were unfamiliar territory for his brother.

Mycroft shook his head and looked at the photos of her. Rather ordinary, though not unattractive. It was her eyes, he decided. There was something, some spark in her eyes that disturbed him. As though she could bring light in to a dark place.

Sherlock did not know it yet, but he was going to fall in love with Molly Hooper.

May God have mercy on us all.

Mycroft shook his head again and began to read.