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B is for Brotherly Love
Tom wasn't sure how he had ended up in a disused warehouse on London's Southbank; it was all a bit of a blur. He was sure it had involved tramps, government officials and ice-cream, but not in what order or why. The distant sound of footsteps grew closer and before he knew it, he was face-to-face with the man who had bugged Molly's flat in order to get cake.
"Now Thomas, we have things to discuss" Mycroft's voice echoed through the warehouse,
"We do?" Tom almost squeaked, in films these scenarios usually ended up badly for the person in his position.
"Molly is the only pathologist that will work with my brother, and if he doesn't have work, he gets bored. When Sherlock gets bored, bad things happen. You follow," Mycroft ignored the obvious discomfort his guest was experiencing.
"Yes, still not sure what this has to do with me," Tom tried hard not to stutter,
"Your flat is bugged to protect Dr. Hooper, it was done at Sherlock's request. That should tell you all you need to know." Mycroft smirked,
"So he gets himself mixed up in things that could be harmful to Molly?" Tom was pretty sure they'd already had this conversation, not long before several apple pies went missing.
"Goldfish. If anything was to happen to Molly, my brother wouldn't take too kindly to it. He's not known for adhering to social protocol, and if he wanted you never to be found, I'm sure he could achieve it. I'd rather not have to deal with that situation, and I'm sure you wouldn't either," Mycroft decided spelling out the situation, despite how tedious, may make things run more efficiently.
"Are you threatening me?" Tom asked cautiously, taking a step backwards,
"No, my dear boy, I'm simply making bringing you up to speed, if you will. Sherlock has some unusual habits which Dr. Hooper foolishly indulges; it would be wise of you to turn a blind eye to these. It could end badly for you if you were to question the peculiar brand of normalcy enjoyed by people who tolerate my brother. Any questions?" Mycroft now sounded as bored as he felt, he was aware that wading into his brother's business was not advisable, and an upset Molly may bake more cake, but she'd eat it too much of it. Overall, less cake.
"What do you mean by unusual habits?" Tom's voice was becoming increasingly unsteady.
"I think you should pay Dr. Watson a visit, Anthea will take you. He's presently alone at home. Good day. Oh and Tom, I don't think Molly needs to know about this" Mycroft dismissed Tom with a flick of the wrist. Tom followed Anthea out of the building; this was definitely pretty high on his list of weirdest things to experience.
"Hello John, I'm not really sure why I'm here," Tom said sheepishly, as John opened the door. He caught a flash of a black Jaguar and shook his head,
"Mycroft. You'd better sit down, cup of tea?" John was well accustomed to the oddities and moderate kidnappings of the Holmes brothers, but Tom was not.
"Please," Tom said gratefully, following John into the house.
"What did Mr British Government want from you?" John asked,
"Nothing, he wanted to talk about Molly" Tom smiled nervously
"He offered me money to spy on Sherlock the first time I met him." John tried to lighten the mood,
"He warned me that if Molly wasn't to go into work for whatever reason, bad things would happen." Tom fidgeted on the spot,
"Pretty much. Possibly the end of the world as we know it. Most likely is that they'll come after you- although it would likely be a race between Sherlock and all the other pathologists at Bart's. To put it in perspective, Molly had flu once, really bad couldn't get out of bed flu. I caught him trying to smuggle her out, so I told him in no uncertain terms she wasn't allowed to leave the flat. Do you know what his reaction to that was? He brought said cadaver to her flat, laid it out on her kitchen table, and then proceeded to carry her around the kitchen to get her view on it. I'm still not sure how he transported an entire dead body across London unnoticed," John explained, he was sure Molly wouldn't ever say no to Sherlock, but Tom had to be on side, just in case.
"Wow." Tom had to consciously check his mouth was shut,
"He won't work with anyone else, and no-one else will work with him." John recited automatically.
"Mycroft said I should ask you about Sherlock's unusual habits." Tom said after a short pause filled will sipping tea.
"I lived with the bastard for long enough, I know most of them. Violin at 4 in the morning, body parts in the fridge and not a shred of social nous." John chuckled to himself, despite the noise and the need to get a lock for the bathroom, it had been good fun.
"I don't understand what that's got to do with Molly," Tom was back to square one, why did everyone think would these terrible habits have such an impact on his and Molly's life together, it wasn't as if Sherlock was going to live with them, was he?
"He keeps her in the lab at ridiculous hours; she gives him said body parts and sometimes helps him experiment on them. She will end up missing things like birthday dinners, if there's an interesting murder on Christmas he'll turn up and drag her off. I think what Mycroft is trying to say, is to try and not interfere with that." John realised that Tom wasn't quite as aware of Sherlock's working habits, and demands as he should be,
"That's hardly fair," Tom said, slightly taken aback
"That's Sherlock. He works to his own schedule, and Molly is the most tolerant of that. What has she told you of the events two years ago?"
"Not a lot, he had to fake his death. She faked the records." Tom shrugged,
"It was more than that, he entrusted her with his life. He's a very unusual man, but fiercely protective of his friends. Sherlock could read you like a book and expel all your secrets to Molly. The fact that he hasn't so far is miraculous. If you don't want him to, then I'd advise staying out of his way." John was less than impressed with Molly's summary of things, and felt the need to explain further. Tom took a large gulp of his tea, the biggest question plaguing his mind needed to be answered.
"John, what happens when Sherlock gets bored?" Tom asked with no minor amount of trepidation.
"He becomes thoroughly intolerable. He shoots walls." John answered, becoming increasingly concerned that the more questions Tom asked about Sherlock, the less likely he was to continue his engagement with Molly.
"I also hid things in your room to see if you'd notice." Sherlock sauntered into the room, adding his tuppence worth. Any remaining colour left Tom's face quickly.
"Like chicken hearts, why are you here?" John demanded he hated that his friend could sneak up on him so easily.
"Molly was concerned; apparently Tom wasn't answering his phone. She wanted to know what you wanted for dinner. I told her she wouldn't be there to cook it so why bother. The security in this house is appalling John," Sherlock relayed his conversation with Molly to Tom, quickly returning to matters he found more interesting.
"I was in the Army, Sherlock; I'm quite capable of looking after us." John retorted shortly,
"As you keep reminding me. I could quite easily have killed both of you and disposed of you before you I made my presence known." Sherlock responded trying to suppress laughing at John's enraged face.
"Molly's shift ends at 3, she'll be home in plenty of time for dinner," Tom, again, had missed the underlying point of the conversation, and the one previous.
"I don't think she will somehow, where are we going?" John sighed, if Molly wasn't going to get home for dinner, then he certainly wouldn't.
"Gavin says there's been a body found, no toenails. No marks on the body, no sign of a struggle, and no toenails." Sherlock said, making no attempt to hide his glee.
"Greg. I'll try and help her escape at a reasonable time," John said to Tom as a parting apology, the two of them almost pushed out the door by an overzealous detective.
"Come John, the game is on." Sherlock said briskly, hailing the next cab.
B is for Baker Street was also recommended, but I'd almost finished writing this at the time. If people aren't adverse to more than one representation per letter, I'll get cracking on that prompt?