Mycroft inwardly groaned and turned to face his brother.

"I assume you've spoken to Dr Hooper?"

Sherlock nodded. "I wanted to ask you about someone else - Anthea."

Mycroft's eyebrow raised as he spotted his assistant chatting idly to Wanda. "What about Miss Smith?"

"What do you know about her?"

The eldest Holmes son smirked. "Enough. Why?"

"Molly was right. You have someone watching her." Sherlock replied, carefully guiding them away from prying ears, into the garden.

"I know of Anthea's sister, Emilia but honestly, I did not know that she worked there. The Alexander sisters are quite estranged but I saw it as an opportunity. Someone that we can trust albeit unacquainted, to look after the mother of your children." Mycroft responded, flicking an invisible piece of lint from his suit.

Sherlock stuffed his hands in his pockets and stared off into the distance. "Well, thank you although you did not set it up. I feel somewhat relieved that she is safe."

Mycroft nodded. "Very well. How is Dr Hooper?"

"You know. I could tell she saw you prior to our meeting so do not act so coy." Sherlock replied, his eyes setting onto the swimming pool. "And you do realise that this pool is a bit over the top for a stone manor like Musgrave? A bit too... modern."

"We're in modern times, Sherlock. I was quite hoping that you'd like it since it's yours."

Sherlock raised an inquisitive eyebrow, watching his brother's smile increase. "I believed it was yours - or even 'Ford's."

Mycroft scoffed. "No, Mummy and Daddy found it fitting for my moods but I think Musgrave Hall is fitting for your moods. I am not the one with the ever-growing family, here. Also, Sherrinford rejected my offer, saying that it held bitter memories and I agree..."

"So, you thought giving it to the one person whose life was destroyed here is the best option? My best friend died just a mile from here."

"I know how it seems. It seems cruel, I know but... I was hoping that you and dear Molly could settle here with the twins and create new memories. Happier ones, if you will brother mine." Mycroft said gently. "Children adore water these days so the swimming pool seemed fitting. There's a large garden space as well as compound space as those horrible gravestones have been removed and dealt with. You can be happy here."

Sherlock closed his eyes, taking deep breaths. "Victor drowned in water. I will not have my children suffer such a fate."

"The pool can go-"

"There are too many ghosts here. I will not have them haunt my children."

Mycroft pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, nodding. "Very well. I suppose it can continue to be a hotel or entertainment hall of some sorts but your name is written in the papers, along with mine."

"I relinquish my rights-"

"No, you do not. You forget that I was also condemned to horrible memories regarding this place yet, it seems as if I am the only one willing to try and create new memories. Mine and 'Ford's condemned lives to being bachelors mean that we have no use for such a home but you do. Do you remember the first time that I... I forced myself to stop eating?"

"I do," Sherlock replied gently.

Mycroft nodded. "It was here. Here is this place but I moved on. I grew up and I tried again. Do the same."

Mycroft walked back inside, happily greeting well-wishers as Sherlock remained outside in the dark, contemplating his brother's words.

"Hi."

He tilted his head slightly and gave a polite smile at the intruder of his thoughts.

"Hello, Dr Alexander."

"I wanted a breath of fresh air and saw you. I decided to take the opportunity to meet the man who loves my friend."

Sherlock frowned. "She's... told you about me?"

Emilia chuckled. "Rhys and I all but forced it out of her. She's a wonderful woman, you know? You have to stop hurting her."

"I am not hurting her?" Sherlock replied, confused. Wasn't the distance doing them well?

Emilia sighed, clearing her throat as she fully turned to face him. "You being apart is hurting her. Do something, anything, to let her know you love her. Words are not enough here, Mr Holmes."

"What do I do?"

The blonde pathologist gave him a knowing smile. "You know where she is. Why not conjure up a case and give her a little visit?"

She was about to leave when he stopped her. "Want to dance, Dr Alexander?"

"Using dance as a means to catch up on your lover? I'd love a dance."

They re-entered the hall, watching other partners dance and Sherlock took her hand and slipped an arm around her waist.

"Do you know how to-"

Emilia was suddenly jerked to face Molly's confused glance.

"Is she looking?"

"I thought you wanted intel, not to make her jealous."

"Same thing," Sherlock replied nonchalantly. "I noticed something about her. She's hiding something. Has she met someone?"

Emilia chuckled. "If you're talking about Rhys' cologne then no, she hasn't met anyone that I know of."

"I've passed your colleague - noticed his cologne as well - and he is not the 'someone'," Sherlock replied. "She was hesitant when she talked to me. Then suddenly, she became confident and almost alluring."

"She kissed you..." Emilia stated. "It's quite obvious."

Sherlock sighed, turning them around so his eyes met Molly's narrowed ones. "She's met someone, hasn't she? She's playing me along."

"Just like you did to her." Emilia frowned. "Don't act surprised, Mr Holmes. And you can relax, it's only coffee mornings."

"Who is he?" Sherlock whispered into her ear. "She knows him well."

"How can you even bloody deduce everything so quickly?" Emilia retorted with her own question. "Are you stalking her or is big brother watching?" She hissed.

Sherlock gave her a bitter smile before letting go of her waist, his hand still gripping hers tightly. "It's Tom, isn't it?"

Emilia forcefully retracted her hand and swallowed deeply. "Visit." She mumbled before heading back to her friends.

Molly stepped towards her, Emilia's flustered face alarming her.

"What's wrong? What did he say? What did he do?"

The blonde shook her head before offering a bright smile. "I have to see someone that I know here. Are you two all right?"

Rhys nodded. "What happened with Holmes? You guys got a bit frisky on the dance floor," He smirked receiving a hit from Molly.

"I told him about Molly-"

"Did you tell him about...?"

Emilia shook her head. "He deduced it. Why did you meet him?"

"I had to. He needed to see me, to know that the twins were okay!" Molly whined. "Oh God, how do I choose?"

Rhys placed a hand on her shoulder and rubbed it comfortingly. "The father of your children or the man you once loved. It's a tough choice but you have to make it, Molly."

Molly bit her lip and excused herself to go to the bathroom.

...

Mrs Hudson placed her hands on her hips, exasperated. It had been a week since the party and Molly had gone back to the States along with her colleagues in tow after a short visit to Glasgow. This meant that Sherlock had gone back to his depressive, silent ways.

"Do you need an eighth psychiatrist?" She asked, ready with her trusted Yellow Book.

Sherlock frowned, slowly turning to face her. "When did I have a sixth or a seventh?"

"Those poor women you disregarded as clients. You barely even spent twenty minutes with either of them."

Sherlock's expression became one of surprise. "They were psychs? How long have I been in this state exactly?"

Mrs Hudson shrugged, putting her phone back into her cardigan pocket. "Since Mycroft's birthday. I suppose that I will hold off on getting that eighth for you but you do need to talk to someone, even John will suffice."

"Did you see her?" Sherlock suddenly asked, turning to face the street. "She looked so-"

"Breathtaking? Astonishing? Even pregnant, that woman can light up a room." John interrupted, entering the room. "Got any good cases?"

"Was waiting for you. Rosie?"

"Babysitter. And no, this one does not have a boyfriend to run off to. She's a lesbian."

Sherlock gave a short chuckle before standing up and stretching. "Tea?"

"Please," John said, taking his coat off. "And do you want an eighth psychiatrist? I've got a third that you can borrow."

"Nope. I'm fine."

John shook his head, accepting his tea as he sat in his chair and got his notepad and pen out. "You aren't. You've gone into your shell again."

"Yes, do tell him!" Mrs Hudson encouraged.

The Holmes detective gave an irritated sigh and sat back down. "Mrs Hudson, if you will please let up the first client?"

"Fine." She grumbled before disappearing downstairs. "I'll see if they want some cake your brother so graciously gave for us."

John and Sherlock shared an amused look.

"Would have gone stale by now, surely?" John asked.

"She's over seventy, doesn't notice the taste but we'll be sure to warn the clients. If need be and they don't annoy or disappoint me."

John just shook his head, smirking to himself as their first client sat on the dining chair seat and began their tirade of a case.

"...he's probably touring America now-"

"America?" Sherlock's interest peaked. "Where exactly?"

The freckled ginger woman frowned. "Miami, Florida. I saw his flight ticket but... surely my husband didn't kill this man or the woman in America as well as abduct my children under false pretences?"

"We'll take the case. Don't you worry, Mrs Peel, we have this covered."

Miss Peel gave a bright smile, wiping her tears. "You have to find my husband. He has my children with him."

John cut in, giving a disapproving glance at Sherlock. "How long have you two been separated?"

"Three years. But the calls stopped coming in and I got even more alarmed when the police showed up at my door demanding to see him."

"Miss Peel, I apologise but my partner and I are stationed for cases based in the UK-"

"This is a case stationed in the UK."

John sighed. "If your husband went to America then it becomes an international matter."

"One we can solve before the authorities do..." Sherlock argued gently. "I apologise, Miss Peel but, I've noticed the use of your maiden name. What is your married name?"

"Hooper."

"Pardon?"

"Hooper." Miss Peel repeated. "I'm Jasmine Peel-Hooper and my husband is Harry Hooper."

John and Sherlock shared a look. The name was awfully familiar.

"Excuse me one minute," Sherlock said, closing his eyes as he went into his Mind Palace.

It led him to Molly Hooper's file, shifting through information based on her family and friends before it landed on one piece of information. A sibling. A name for said sibling. Estranged after surviving parent's death as a teenager.

Harry Andrew Hooper.

Sherlock's eyes shot open as he shared a small smile with John.