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Ch5. Upstairs, Downstairs

Molly and the Holmes brothers where left alone in 221B as one by one the group retired to their respective homes. She was once again in John's old room having excused herself shortly before everyone left, after she and John cleaned up the kitchen from a dinner of take away Thai.

She sat on her temporary bed and thought fondly about her conversation with John as they had put away the food and tidied up. John had been so sweet though he seemed overly concerned for her. Everyone had checked on her at some point in the evening, frankly it had started to get on her nerves a bit, that's why she went up to her new room early. She felt a little bad about leaving the group, but the looks of pity from everyone not to mention the fact that Sherlock had yet to speak a word to her drove her up the stairs seeking the comfort of her cat.

Molly of course had realized that the man Mary was talking about must have been the man Sherlock had killed, she was proud of herself for not reveling that bit. The last thing in the world she would ever do is betray the trust of Mycroft Holmes. He may seem cold and shut off to the rest of the world but he had kept her informed about Sherlock's well-being for two years and that meant more to her than she could ever repay.

Molly sat petting Toby, Mary wants me to think about Sherlock's behavior over the last few months... I have almost nothing to go on other than the fact that he's been a complete bastard for seemingly good reasons... this time. She thought ruefully. Why would it matter anyway, he used that woman for a case just like he used me for years... She was exhausted having not slept the night before, she had cried herself into a headache then just laid in bed thinking about how she'd never see Sherlock again. Now she her sadness was replaced with anger and confusion.

Ya, I'll never understand that man. I do know one thing, I can't let him manipulate me or use me ever again. He may not like it, but I'm not the same Molly Hooper I use to be.

"Is there a reason you're still here?" Sherlock asked when he finally noticed Mycroft sitting in the chair across from him, he had been in his Mind Palace for a while and Mycroft was waiting patiently for him to reappear.

"Just wanted a word before I was on my way, won't take long I promise."

"Make it quick, I have a lot of information to process." Sherlock replied.

"What information? We know nothing of this Moriarty situation yet."

"I didn't say it was about the broadcast." Sherlock said looking off in the distance.

"I want to caution you to use care with Dr. Hooper, I think she's a bit chaffed about your absence and actions these few months."

Sherlock stared at his older brother in complete shock. "Where the hell is this coming from?"

"Sherlock, I don't have to remind you how abrasive you can be, especially toward that young woman." Mycroft said with some authority in his voice.

The Sherlock of three years ago would have stormed off in a huff but not before making a scathing remark about Mycroft having taught Sherlock the meaning of the word abrasive. However, a lot had changed for for him in three years time and for that reason alone he sat there and took his reprimand like a good little brother. However he added, "What happened to having little information on the emotional status of my acquaintances?" for good measure, he was a Holmes for Heavens's sake.

Mycroft showed no outer acknowledgment of Sherlock's comment, "I only say this because of the great risk she took for the sake of you, your friends and our family. If I were the type of man to wax poetic I'd say that there must be something truly remarkable about Dr. Molly Hooper. However I am not, so what I will say is that she at the very least deserves your kindness and hospitality during this situation. Do I make myself clear?"

Sherlock took Mycroft's words into careful consideration then said, "I shall endeavor not to cause Molly anymore pain than I have already inflected upon her."

With that Mycroft stood up and started to retrieve his things, at the door he stopped and turned back, "Sherlock, welcome back." Then he left.

Sitting in the quiet of his flat Sherlock took a moment to think about how he should be on his death mission right now, this was suppose to be the beginning of the end. Now he was evidently stuck here until given leave by his brother, who apparently I allow to give me advice as to how to treat my friends? What the hell? Did he slip something in my tea? He shook his head, what in the world has gotten into Mycroft lately? Sure he was still an ego-maniacal, power hungry, dick head but suddenly he cares about Molly's feelings and he was nice to me at Christmas then today... maybe it's his age, he is rather old, he thought as he laughed. He had managed to go from contemplative to confused to a little giddy in a matter of a minute... such are the mercurial moods of Sherlock Holmes.

Then it dawned on him that he had hardly spoken to Molly all evening and decided to go check on her. She'll enjoy that, chaffed...ha, Mycroft doesn't know my pathologist like I do.

He knocked on Molly's door, "Can I come in Molly?"

"Yes, Sherlock."

"I see you're all settled." He said looking around the room, but keeping a healthy distance from Toby.

"How are you hands?" She asked.

He looked down at the bandages, "Oh, they're fine... no harm done." He smiled. "I understand you didn't want to stay here, I got an ear full from John, said you two talked while doing the washing up."

"Well I was afraid it might be a bit awkward, we haven't seen each other since..." There was no need to finish the sentence.

"Yes, you deserve an explanation." He said as he pulled up a chair and sat down.

"What makes you say that?" She asked indignantly.

Sherlock paused, he wasn't ready for that. Molly wasn't acting as if she was nursing hurt feelings, she was acting... well she was acting pissed. As well as Sherlock could read people, Molly Hooper always had the ability to throw him off. She had a knack for putting him off balance at the most inconvenient times.

"I just mean that..." And then something suddenly occurred to him, "Molly what do you know?"

"I know a lot of things, you'll have to be more specific."

"Don't be cute Molly."

"Oh, I'd never presume to think for one moment that you'd find me the least bit cute, Sherlock!"

That stung much more than he was willing to admit, but he was enjoying the fire in her eyes, she was well and properly mad now.

"Who have you been talking to?" He asked.

Molly looked away and took a deep breath clearly deciding on whether or not to make another smart remark. "Sherlock, it's been a very long day, and I didn't sleep last night as a matter of fact. So if you would excuse me I'd like to get some rest and maybe we can retry this conversation tomorrow."

Ah... she knew about my exile. But how, who told her? And what else does she know? A mystery to solve. Might be best to let it go before she unleashes that hellcat on me once again. Sherlock thought as he cast a furtive glance down at the sleeping form on Molly's lap.

"Okay Molly, I'll be downstairs if you need anything. Feel free to use the shower, I know you usually enjoy one after your shift."

"I'm fine, I hadn't started any autopsies when I was collected and dragged here." She said with only a hint of anger left in her voice, Sherlock thought it sounded a bit forced.

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