I am sooo sorry for this entire wait but my exams are going on and it's the final sem so I have to study a lot. Anyway, I made some time and I hope you like this chapter. It's little funny and do hope that the characters don't seem OC

Brothers!

The next few days past rather uneventfully, if you did not count Sherlock's potentially fatal rants about not having enough to do.

'Oh, my brain!' he would scream and yell. He'd fight with the pillows, slash the curtains, experiment—in among the most lethal and dangerous forms of the words. 'I need something, oh I soo need something. Oh, shut up John. If you had not given her the flowers she was allergic to, you would really have made it to a third date with her.'

Molly and John who were already accustomed to such behavior kept their cool and tried to help him as much they could, between Molly being cross with Sherlock and Sherlock being cross with John, which was not much. John remained perplexed so as to why Sherlock was behaving so with him and why Molly was much keener on talking to him than even looking at Sherlock.

Molly still was not allowed to leave the apartment and Sherlock, who was occasionally let out by them in severe disguise, had already talked to the head of pathology on why she would absent for some days. They had decided that she was to be attacked with food poisoning. John assisted her with every new topic he could find to interest her, and Sherlock made some efforts talking to her but she nearly always deigned not to answer or started talking raptly with John or Mrs. Hudson.

Yet it was Mrs. Hudson who had the worst situation of all. Her joy of seeing Sherlock had been somewhat reduced on Sherlock's continuous rant and scruples. She now regularly found something or other that was either dead or slashed or cut and holed in some way or other in wider range of places around the house than ever before. Then there was John who would keep running out and in, due to his exasperation with Sherlock and his inability to be angry at Sherlock and, at the same time, be grateful that he was alive. Molly kept trying to talk to her and when she appreciated it, her jumping in at any time made her slightly uneasy. All of this, along with all the trouble that her hip was giving her. Not that she was complaining. It was after some days that rain of change came to 221 Baker Street in the flesh of one prim man, wearing a black suit, carrying a black umbrella and in a black car, which was in no way queer.

Sherlock Holmes was having a great night after what seemed like a very long time. It was not unusual for him to come panting on that door step but it had now become somewhat distant being allegedly dead did that to you. He looked at the doorstep and saw that his brother had come for a visit. Why did Mycroft have to spoil everything? Always. He went upstairs and opened.

'How are you dear brother?' Mycroft drawled in his droning vice as usual.

'What are you doing here Mycroft?' Sherlock asked his brother curtly.

'I see you have been through a chase. Although, you are not supposed to be running around the city when you are dead, Sherlock!' Mycroft said his voice rising in the end.

'Sherlock…you were in a chase! I thought we all agreed that it was only a walk you were going out for.' John reprimanded.

'oh, John -' Sherlock started to retort but was cut short by Molly.

'Oh John, don't tell me what to do. I'm going to keep doing all this till I make sure I really dead. Don't you know how little I care about what you all think or feel.' Molly impersonated in something of joke of the deep voice she loved. Sherlock looked at her resigned. Mycroft turned his head towards him and cocked his eyebrow.

'What are you doing here Mycroft?' he asked again.

'I have come now to tell you that Moriarty knows that you are alive and you should soon make a good come out otherwise it would be him who would take the game changing step.'

'What step?' Molly asked.

'The first one, Dr. Hooper. And you ought to have realized that how badly the rival's taking the first step can affect you, Sherlock.' Mycroft said.

'If that is all that you have to say Mycroft, I bid you a good night, because I have already thought of that and I have a plan and there is no more need for you here.' Sherlock said after and exaggerated eye roll.

'That's it then.' Mycroft said without emotion. He got up, buttoned his jacket and was about to walk the door when Molly interrupted.

'That's it then?' she ejaculated with some surprise. Both the brothers looked at Molly enquiringly, reflecting her surprise.

'Is there something else to be discussed Dr. Hooper?' Mycroft asked politely.

You met your brother after about six months, you were convinced that he was dead, and now that you see him alive the only thing you tell him that the criminal behind him is alive? And how to play game with him to win?' she looked at John and asked. 'Are you sure that Sherlock is not adopted?'

'Their genes are much too similar for that.' John said with a serious shake of head.

'What else do you think there should be? A hug? A kiss? Maybe a even a punch in the face for giving me a near heart attack? Or beating with my umbrella that he can't even hide properly from a criminal who is behind his life, Dr. Hooper?' Mycroft asked fervently. In that statement Molly saw and heard how much Mycroft loved Sherlock, who she could swear she had glimpsed half expecting that. For him she said.

'Well, yes. I insist. For me at least do that. Show me that you're not heartless machines.' She said the last three words with a slight glare at Sherlock. Sherlock shrugged slightly, but he was thrown on to the floor due a heavy punch from the Holmes, who, Sherlock & John had assured her, abhorred doing anything physical.

'Ow! Mycroft!' Sherlock yelled from the floor. But Mycroft would not listen for he had stated beating Sherlock with his umbrella anywhere he could safely reach. Sherlock kept groaning and "ow"ing loudly but Mycroft did not back off. Somehow, both John and Molly knew, Sherlock did not retaliate in any way. Otherwise he could have easily tackle Mycroft. That was the first that Molly realized hidden affection and boxed love meant.

The scene went on for a few minutes, with Sherlock bellowing, Mycroft breathing heavily, John guffawing, and Molly staring bewildered. When me stopped Sherlock heaved himself up and there was some blood coming from his where Mycroft's punch had hit him. Hesitantly, both the brothers move towards each other and hugged each other but very quickly. Mycroft lightly slapped Sherlock in the face and said "moron". Even Sherlock was smiling lightly.

'Thank you Dr. Hooper. That was fun in deed. We should do this more often' he said looking and smirking at Sherlock. They both had resumed their men of ice forms. But Molly still knew the meaning and feeling behind those words. She smiled.

'It's Molly, Mr. Holmes.' Said she.

'Mycroft.' He replied. 'so good night all of you. Sherlock don't trouble them. Molly, John.'

And he left, leaving the three to the aftermath of the scene.