On the first morning of her marriage, Molly Hooper Holmes woke in the dim light of dawn surrounded by her husband – spooned back to his front, his hand loosely cupping her breast, his quiet breaths warm against her neck, his knee tucked between hers. Mycroft filled her senses, and she wanted to wallow in the warmth and comfort, the satisfaction and love. She hated the thought of leaving the cozy nest they'd created, but needs must.

"Mycroft, I have to go." Molly was sitting on the side of the bed, unable to get up while he kept hold of her hand.

"Go where?"

"Go go!"

"Ah." Mycroft released Molly reluctantly, and she stooped to grab his shirt off the floor, shrugging into it as she opened the bedroom door and hurried down the hall. After taking care of business, she washed her face and brushed her teeth, frowning at herself in the bathroom mirror. He'd certainly be up when she returned, and their wedding night would officially be over.

Sure enough, Mycroft had already left the room. Molly walked to the window, looking past the back garden to the open fields, still gray with early morning fog, then sat in the chair, pulled her knees to her chest, wrapped her arms around them, and sighed. A few minutes later, she heard a floorboard creak and turned just as Mycroft came through the door and got back into bed. He raised his eyebrows questioningly and the bedcovers invitingly, and Molly smiled in delight and quickly joined him. He settled the covers over them, drew her into his arms, and kissed her open-mouthed … and with serious intent.

The next time Molly woke, it was almost half past eight. She looked down at Mycroft, who was sound asleep, his hand curved around her hip, his knee tucked between her legs, his face pressed against her right breast. She wondered if he had ever before been so unguarded around anyone, if he'd ever allowed himself to relax to such an extent in another's presence. His slow, even breaths caused both nipples to tighten and goose pimples to roughen her sensitive skin. Mycroft's arm twitched, and Molly watched as he blinked a few times before raising his head to look at her. He started to speak, but was interrupted by a yawn, which he quickly covered with his hand. "Sorry, my dear," he said, dropping his hand to her stomach. "My head must have felt like a boulder."

"Not at all," she said, smiling, then reached to run her fingers through his hair. "I like it when you fall asleep on me."

Mycroft returned the smile, then lowered his eyes to her breasts before kissing his way to her right nipple and drawing it between his lips. Molly hummed with pleasure, but he released her now-wet areola with a sigh. "Knowing my parents, they'll be on their way home soon. If we're going to be up and dressed before they arrive, we better head to the shower now."

"Together?"

"For bathing, not horsing around," he said, mock sternly, then stretched to give her a brief kiss before getting out of bed. He crossed to the wardrobe, removed their dressing gowns, tossed hers onto the bed, and then shrugged into his as he left the room. When Molly stood, her thigh muscles trembled and the flesh between her legs felt a bit tender. Their early morning lovemaking had ended up being just as vigorous as the night before but had been far more drawn out, and she felt marvelous - unsteady and a little achy, but absolutely marvelous.

#####

"Did the two of you try out our Jacuzzi?"

Molly's brows quirked. "No, we didn't."

"It's wonderful for any aches and pains," Violet paused and arched a brow, "and sharing a bathtub can be such fun."

Molly shot a quick glance at Mycroft, then at Sherlock, taking in their identical frozen expressions, and tucked in her lips as she turned back to her mother-in-law. Their eyes met, and both women laughed merrily. Violet looked at Siger, shaking her head. "How did we end up with sons who are such prudes?"

The five of them were sitting around the kitchen table, having a late-morning cup of tea and chatting about the party. More accurately, Molly and her in-laws were chatting; Mycroft and Sherlock were taking turns sighing, when they weren't having some sort of silent communication/argument. The others had arrived around half past ten, and Violet had greeted the younger couple with exuberant hugs and kisses. Molly had returned them enthusiastically and given Mycroft a hard look when he started to scowl at his mother's approach. He'd quickly rearranged his face to a more neutral expression, and Molly had had to suppress a giggle.

The day was clear and warm, and the family walked to the village for an early lunch at a pub that did a good traditional Sunday dinner. By the time they finished eating, it was just after two and Walter was waiting to drive them back to The Cottage. Mycroft and Molly immediately headed upstairs to get their things together and were on their way to London less than an hour later. Mycroft was traveling with Walter so he could do some work and return a few calls. Sherlock was with Molly so he could … not be with his brother.

"Sir?"

Mycroft looked up as he slid his phone into his pocket. "What is it, Walter?"

Walter glanced at him in the rearview mirror, dropped his gaze to the speedometer, then met Mycroft's eyes again, without saying anything. After a few moments, Mycroft raised his brows. "How fast?"

"Eighty."

Mycroft sighed and pulled out his phone again. "Having fun, brother mine?"

"What do you want, Mycroft," Sherlock demanded, irritably.

"Put me on speaker." Mycroft recognized the Scowling Silence that followed his instruction, but after a moment Molly's singing in the background got louder and he had to raise his voice to be heard. "My dear?"

"Oh - hi, Mycroft!" The music was abruptly cut off. "What's going on?"

"Are you aware that the speed limit along here is sixty?" Mycroft's tone was mild, but had an undertone of amusement.

"Oops! Is Walter having trouble keeping up?"

"Molly –"

"Just kidding," she said. "We'll pay more attention to the speed limit … right, Sherlock?"

"Do take care, darling." Mycroft grimaced when he let that endearment slip out and heard Sherlock snort in disgust. "We'll be entering a more congested area shortly."

"Will do. See you later!"

Mycroft rung off and his eyes unintentionally met Walter's. Mycroft turned to look out the window, running his tongue along the inside of his cheek. Letting Walter glimpse a bit of his private life was one thing, but Mycroft needed to shore up his defenses to avoid revealing any soft spots to anyone else.

Molly eventually came to a stop outside Baker Street. By the time she and Sherlock got out of the car, Walter drew up at the curb behind them and kept the car idling. Mycroft watched as Sherlock grabbed his bag and tried to make a swift getaway, but Molly quickly caught hold of his coat. Sherlock scowled but allowed her to pull him down for a kiss on the cheek, and Mycroft saw his expression soften before he abruptly turned away and entered the flat. Molly grinned and waved her fingers in Mycroft's direction, then got in the other car and drove off.

By the time Molly parked the car in the garage, Walter had already dropped Mycroft off and left. She came through the back door, passed through the kitchen and arrived in the front hall just as Mycroft started up the stairs with their bags. They returned to the kitchen half an hour later and Mycroft took a seat at the island while Molly got the kettle going.

"Should we ask Mrs. C to come over for a few minutes?" On Sundays, the housekeeper usually left for her flat by mid-afternoon.

Mycroft planted his elbow on the table and propped his head on his fist. "I wouldn't put it past Mummy to call her."

"So that's a yes then." Molly went to the house phone and invited Mrs. Collingwood to share some tea with them. "She's on her way."

While Molly finished making the tea, Mycroft brought cups and saucers to the table and then went to the pantry for the biscuit barrel. They heard the back door open and a few moments later Mrs. Collingwood entered the kitchen, stooping to pick up Toby as she greeted them with a big smile. "Welcome back! How was the party?"

"Mummy was overjoyed," Mycroft said, with a wry smile. "It was a nightmare."

"Mycroft! It was wonderful, Mrs. C," Molly insisted. "Mummy and Dad both had a fantastic time, which is all that matters. Here … sit down." Molly waited while she did so, then poured the housekeeper a cup of tea. "How has your weekend been?"

"Exceedingly quiet," she said, "though Toby was actually good company."

Molly sat and took a slow sip of her tea, then drew a deep breath and set the cup down. "We have some news." She glanced at Mycroft, then placed her left hand flat on the table in front of Mrs. Collingwood. Mycroft put his right hand on the table beside Molly's.

The housekeeper studied their hands for a moment, then ran her finger over Molly's ring before doing the same to Mycroft's. "That's not the same ring." She glanced quickly from him to Molly, and her eyes widened.

Mycroft took Molly's hand and threaded their fingers together, causing their rings to click lightly. "We got married by special license Saturday afternoon with just my parents and Sherlock there." His lips quirked. "I'm sure Molly will be happy to share all the details with you later."

"Congratulations!" She gave them a bright smile. "Did you take any photos?"

Mycroft rolled his eyes, but Molly pulled her phone out. "Just a couple of quick ones the rector's husband took after we signed the register." She walked around to the other side of the island and handed the housekeeper her phone. The photos were actually quite good and Molly was happy to have them, considering how photo-averse Mycroft was. The five of them were gathered close together, Molly and Mycroft in the middle, Sherlock on Molly's far side, Violet and Siger next to Mycroft. The brothers were even smiling.

"Oh, you all look lovely … especially you, Miss Molly," Mrs. Collingwood said, handing the phone back to Molly and reaching into a pocket for a handkerchief. She dabbed at her eyes, while Mycroft suppressed a groan. "You should have some prints made."

"Oh, I intend to," Molly said, giving Mycroft a speaking glance.

#####

After checking her list Monday morning, Molly left the morgue and went to find Mike Stamford. He was in his office, door open, and looked up in surprise when Molly dropped into a chair in front of his desk.

"Problem?"

"No …" Molly hesitated, unconsciously twisting her new ring around her finger. She looked up and saw Mike's eyes were on it. "Um, I got married over the weekend."

"What?" Mike's jaw dropped. "Who? I didn't know you were dating anyone!"

"Um, Mycroft Holmes."

Mike's mouth fell open again. "I knew he was here that time you –" He abruptly changed course. "Mycroft Holmes? When did this happen?"

"Actually … we've been involved for more than a year."

"A year!" Mike came around the desk and took the chair beside Molly. "Dear lord, Molly, you've certainly kept that secret." He shook his head, then gave her hand a squeeze. "I'm happy for you if you're happy, but … Sherlock's brother? I can't believe it."

"I'm very happy, Mike." Her smile faded as she looked at him. "But I'm, um, not sure how my job might end up being affected. We're, um, going to try for a baby."

Mike just stared at her for several seconds, then dropped his eyes to his hands and sighed. "I'd hate to lose your services in the lab and morgue, Molly, but we could definitely find other options for you if necessary." He quickly checked his watch and sighed. "I have a lecture in a few minutes." He moved back behind his desk and started gathering some papers. "Don't worry. If you do get pregnant – and I wish you the best with that, Molly – and need to stay away from some aspects of the job for a while, we'll make it work."

"Thanks, Mike," she said, giving him a relieved smile. "By the way, I want to keep the news of my marriage on a need-to-know basis for as long as possible. Do I have to inform anyone else here?"

They discussed that as Molly walked out of the office with him. When he turned down a side corridor, she continued toward human resources.

At about the same time a couple of miles away, Mycroft finished reading a report on a diplomatic incident involving one of his agents in Karachi, then leaned back, staring at his closed door. He picked up his pen, fingers turning it in circles for several seconds, then stilled when Anthea's soft knock was followed by her entering with his mid-morning cup of tea. Her gaze briefly lowered to his fingers before meeting his eyes. Mycroft placed the pen on his desk and waved a hand toward her chair. Anthea settled, then met his eyes again, waiting for his instructions with a raised brow. Mycroft glanced down at the file he'd been studying, then looked up at her, narrow-eyed. "I believe you once knew Peter quite well. What's not in this report?"

Anthea hesitated. "I believe Peter knew the son of one of the commissioner's when they were at university."

"And?"

"Although there's lately been a certain level of acceptance, or at least tolerance, toward gay men among some people in Karachi, I don't believe that particular commissioner is one of them."

"And Peter and the commissioner's son are still …?"

"I don't believe so, but –"

"The commissioner may be using the current situation to punish what he sees as a past transgression, assuming he's become aware of it." Mycroft closed the file, thanked her, and turned to his laptop. When she didn't leave, he looked up at her, eyebrows raised questioningly.

"Sir, I was just wondering about how Saturday went –" She broke off when Mycroft frowned, but then he swiveled his chair until he was facing her, leaned back and draped his hands over the chair arms.

Mycroft studied her expression for several moments, then surprised her by raising his right hand and wiggling his ring finger. "I am now a married man," he said lightly. "I'm sure Molly will be happy to share all the details with you the next time you meet for lunch."

Anthea felt her cheeks flush. "I didn't mean to pry, sir." She stood, but sat again when he pointed a finger at the chair.

Mycroft sighed, then leaned forward, planted his elbows on the desk and propped his chin on the tips of his steepled fingers. "Anthea, I do understand your interest. The wedding went very well – in fact, the arrangements went off even better than I expected. Unfortunately, Sherlock will no doubt be forever reminding me of his role in making that happen." He smiled at her. "Feel free to talk to Molly about the details. I trust your – and her - discretion."

Anthea stood again. "Thank you, sir. And congratulations."

When the door closed behind her, Mycroft rubbed his temple, but his expression was still light-hearted when he turned back to the computer.

#####

Molly was in the middle of her second post mortem Thursday morning when the morgue's door opened abruptly, followed by a mass of people and noise – in other words, Sherlock, John and Greg … arguing. She paid no attention until the three of them finally settled down and came to stand side-by-side across from her, each peering curiously into Mr. Davidson's chest cavity.

"Heart attack … boring," Sherlock said over his shoulder as he crossed the room to the cooling drawers.

Greg arched a brow at Molly. "Oh, yes – Sherlock's right, but we had to check since Mr. Davidson also had a blunt force trauma to the back of his head. He most likely hit it on the hearth after having the heart attack, but he wasn't found for about three days so ..."

"Yep, boring."

"Greg!"

John had already followed Sherlock, and Greg grinned at Molly and went after him. Molly stared at their backs suspiciously. "What are you doing?" Sherlock started to open one of the drawers. "Sherlock, stop! I haven't done that one yet."

"I know, but we don't have time to wait –"

"Sherlock, STOP!" Molly went to the sink to wash her hands, then pulled off her gloves and washed her hands again before hurrying across the room to push the drawer shut and stand in front of it. "You have to let me do my job."

"But you're taking too long." Sherlock took hold of Molly's shoulders and tried to move her over without using too much force. He huffed in frustration when she wouldn't move. "Molly, let us take a quick look, then we'll be out of here."

"You go stand over there and let me get him out properly."

"You are being extremely stubborn, sister dear."

Molly rolled her eyes as Sherlock lifted his hands and backed away. She then glanced at Greg, who was staring at her open-mouthed, and quickly glanced at John, who also looked gob-smacked. She thought back over what had just happened. Oh.

"Um, guys, there's been a development -"

"Oh, for god's sake," Sherlock hissed between gritted teeth. "We don't have time for this." He reached to grab the drawer handle again, then tossed over his shoulder. "Mycroft and Molly got married on Saturday, so say hello to my sister-in-law."

Greg and John looked from Sherlock to Molly as if synchronized, and Molly laughed. "John, I think you better call Mary."

John's stare suddenly took on focus and he abruptly straightened to his military stance. "Right." He walked off as he pulled his phone out of a pocket, glancing back as Molly called after him. "Tell Mary I'll call her later with the details!"

Molly turned back to pat Greg's arm. "It's all right, Greg. The world hasn't turned upside down. I'm still Molly." She laughed again, then shoved Sherlock aside with her hip and slid the drawer open.

Arriving home after finishing an early shift the following Wednesday, Molly opened the front door and grabbed hold of a somewhat dazed Meena to pull her inside. They'd left the St. John's Wood tube station and turned up Acacia Road, and Meena had looked more and more surprised as they made their way through the neighborhood before Molly finally stopped at the gated drive and entered a security code.

Once in the front hall, Molly waited for Meena to hang up her jacket, then led the way to the kitchen. There was no sign of Mrs. Collingwood, so Molly reversed course and returned to the hall. Meena hadn't said anything and still looked shocked. "Meena, it's just a house." Molly took her arm to get her moving again. "Come on … I'll give you a quick tour of the ground floor, but then I want to talk to you." She took Meena down the main hall and let her look at the sitting and music rooms, then a briefer look from the doorway at Mycroft's study, then on to the dining room and finally into what was now her office. Molly hesitated, then backtracked and led the way to the gym.

"Are you kidding me?" Meena walked over to run a hand down the sword held by an armored knight. "This is where you work out?"

Molly laughed. "We're talking Mycroft here – remember?"

Meena followed her up the stairs to the first floor, then up the next flight and through the door of a large, sun-filled room where they found Toby curled up on the cushioned window seat. Meena recognized some of Molly's things and felt more at home at seeing her television with its usual haphazard stack of DVDs and the built-in bookcases filled with Molly's books and knickknacks. She dropped into a deep-cushioned chair after picking up a familiar kitten pillow. "Molly, this house …."

"I know, Meena. It previously belonged to Mycroft's grandparents and he's lived here for more than fifteen years. Despite, well, everything … this really is a welcoming and comfortable home. It was his, now it's ours, and that's that. Well, Mycroft wants me to believe that, but sometimes I still think … good god!"

"You'll just have to fill it with children."

Molly rolled her eyes. "Even if we wanted to have a bunch of kids, my biological clock is getting too near midnight for that! No, we're going to try to have one child and then who knows. But two would be it, I think."

Molly used the house phone to let Mrs. Collingwood know they were upstairs, then stretched out on the sofa and launched into a description of what had been happening over the past month. After a while, they went to the kitchen and had tea with the housekeeper and then returned to Molly's "den." Time passed quickly as Meena caught Molly up on the goings-on with their mutual friends, and Molly was surprised when she heard what sounded like the front door closing. She left the room and leaned over the stairwell, then came back and put her shoes on. "Listen, Meena, give me a few minutes and then come down, okay?"

Meena nodded her agreement and Molly hurried downstairs. She found Mycroft in the kitchen talking to Mrs. Collingwood and walked over to stand beside him. "Good evening, Mr. Holmes," she said, teasingly. "I hope you've had a good day."

Mycroft put his hand on Molly's back to urge her out of the room. Once in the hall, he gave her a brief kiss. "Good enough," he said. "Mrs. C said you have a guest."

"My friend Meena. She'll be down in a minute," Molly said, then tilted to head to study Mycroft's expression. "You're home earlier than I expected. Do you mind if she stays awhile?"

Mycroft tucked some loose hair behind Molly's ear. "Why don't you invite her to stay for dinner? I have some work to finish, but should be through by that time." Molly heard Meena coming down the stairs before she could respond.

When Meena saw them both watching her, she slowed her pace and stopped on the bottom stair. "Hello."

Molly took Mycroft's hand and pulled him across the hall. "Mycroft, this is my friend, Meena Richardson."

"Mr. Holmes," Meena said, offering her hand.

"Mycroft, please," he responded lightly, shaking her hand. "Welcome to our home."

Molly glanced at Meena and wasn't surprised to see a slightly dazzled look on her face. Mycroft being charming was a bit overwhelming. Then there was his navy pin-stripe … oh god. Molly cleared her throat. "Would you like to stay to dinner, Meena?"

"Uh, yes. That would be nice," she stopped to swallow. "Thank you."

Mycroft looked down at Molly and smiled. "I'll see you both later then." He nodded at Meena, then turned and walked to his study. Molly and Meena stared after him until he shut the door, then stared at each other.

"Wow."

"I told you." Molly grinned. "When you saw him outside Barts several months ago, you said someone his age who looked so cold-blooded and wore three-piece suits and carried an umbrella couldn't possibly be hot."

Meena grabbed Molly's arm and tugged her toward the stairs. "I want to hear absolutely everything …"

"Wait a minute." Molly pulled her arm free and led the way to the kitchen, where they found the housekeeper rolling out dough on a pastry board. "Mrs. C, Meena is going to be joining us for dinner. What time should we be down?"

"That's nice, Miss Molly," she said, smiling at both of them. "Half past seven should be good."

"Is there anything we could do to help?"

"No, no – go have a nice visit."

Molly and Meena returned upstairs and Molly offered sufficient details about her relationship with Mycroft to satisfy Meena's curiosity without being overly indiscreet. He would probably consider sharing anything about their sex life to be indiscreet, but men – and Mycroft in particular - understood nothing about what women expected of each other when it came to girl talk. Besides, Molly didn't have to say that much. Meena was good at reading between the lines … and thus ended up being thrilled for Molly and not a little envious.

Dinner went well, with Molly and Meena talking almost non-stop. Mycroft didn't need to say much but occasionally offered an opinion or comment. Molly could tell Meena was still somewhat intimidated by him, but that didn't stop her from being her usual chatty self. Meena had another early shift the next day so left just after nine in Mycroft's car. Molly had been surprised to see the driver was Andrew, but greeted him without making further comment to Mycroft. She'd decided not to question his security arrangements unless something about them truly bothered her. That didn't.

When they finally went upstairs to go to bed, Molly stopped outside her bedroom. "You must really need to decompress after spending the evening with both me and Meena. Would you like a quiet night alone?"

"No, I need sex," he said calmly.

"What?"

Mycroft chuckled at Molly's shocked expression and then cupped her chin and tilted her head back as he carefully studied her face. "I would like to make love with you," he said, giving her a lingering kiss. "Is that better?"

"The other works for me as well – I was just surprised that you said it." Molly slid her arms around his neck and lifted into another kiss. "So what are you waiting for?" She laughed when he swept her up and carried her down the hall. Just as she'd hoped he would.

#####

Two days later, Molly was finishing a report on her latest post mortem when a sudden cramp made her double over. After it passed, she massaged her stomach and thought about what she'd eaten for lunch. When the cramping started again, she recognized the feeling and quickly left her office and went to the locker room.

Half an hour later, she went to Mike's office and sank into a chair. "I finished the McDade PM and there aren't any more on the list. Would it be all right for me to leave early?"

"Of course, but are you ill?" Mike studied her pale face and then came around the desk. "Can I help you?"

Molly waved a hand. "Don't worry, Mike. I stopped my oral contraceptive about six weeks ago and my first 'normal' post-pill period just started. After taking the pill for so many years, I'd forgotten what my cramps used to feel like. I'll be fine by Monday." She stood a bit gingerly and Mike walked with her down the hall to her office and waited while she got her handbag and locked up. She looked at his expression and smiled. "You don't have to see me off the premises, Mike. I'm okay … really."

Mike watched her walk down the long corridor and push through the first set of doors, then turned to go back to his office. He thought about Mycroft and wondered if he'd expect Mike to have let someone know about Molly feeling unwell. Mike certainly wasn't afraid of Mycroft, but decided it wouldn't hurt to give John a call.

Molly was walking home from the tube station when her phone went off. "Hi, John … what's up?" She perched a hip on a conveniently located half-wall. "What? No, I'm fine. How did you – oh, Mike. No, really, it's just cramps." She let out an exasperated breath. "Yes, I promise to call you if I feel worse. Honestly, I do recognize menstrual cramps!" She listened for a moment, then broke in. "For god's sake, don't you dare contact Mycroft!" Pause. "Okay, fine. I'll call you later. Now let me go so I can get home to a hot water bottle." Molly rang off and rolled her eyes … Men! … then smiled fondly at the thought of her friends wanting to take care of her.

An hour later, Molly had taken a quick shower and put on a T-shirt and her favorite kitten pajama bottoms. Mrs. Collingwood had then dosed her with paracetamol and tucked her into the bed in "her" bedroom with hot water bottles pressed against her stomach and lower back. Molly sent John a text and was soon asleep.

Molly next surfaced when Mycroft sat beside her on the bed and leaned over to kiss her forehead. She blinked several times to bring the room into focus and then met his eyes, feeling momentarily confused about why she was in that bedroom. He ran a finger along her hairline and around the rim of her ear. "How are you feeling?"

Molly suddenly remembered what had happened and twisted her lips. "Better for the moment, but the cramps aren't going away yet." Her brow furrowed. "Don't worry, Mycroft. It's completely normal and I'll be fine in a couple of days."

Mycroft sat up straighter and glanced around the room. "Why are you in here and not in our room?"

"Well, I thought you might …"

"I might what?"

"Be a bit squeamish … you know, ewww."

Mycroft gave an exasperated huff. "I may not have had much first-hand experience with a menstruating woman, but the sight of blood doesn't bother me. Besides, this isn't the first time you've had your period around me." He stood and then sighed when he saw Molly's blush. "Oh, grow up, Molly." It was said teasingly, but she also heard an underlying serious note.

Molly's first reaction was to want to punch him, but she quickly realized she was the one reacting poorly, not Mycroft. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to take a shower and then we can talk about what you might like to eat." He raised his brows. "Would you like me to freshen your hot water bottles first?"

"No, I need to get up." Molly pushed them aside and sat on the edge of the bed. "Go have your shower." She stared at her feet, feeling like she'd been both off-putting and ungracious. "But thanks for the offer." She looked up when Mycroft came back and sat beside her.

"I'm sorry you aren't feeling well," he said, putting his arm around her and cocking his head so he could see her face. "How would you like to have supper upstairs while watching one of your favorite films? I promise not to say anything about the poor plot or bad acting."

Molly elbowed him, but gently. "And no sighing or huffing … or rolling your eyes."

"Well, certainly not when you're looking." He gave her a warm smile. "Is that a plan?"

"Yes, thank you." When Molly's eyes met his, she felt herself tear up and blinked rapidly trying to force them back. "I love you."

"I know." He gave her a brief kiss. "Even when you want to hit me."

Mycroft did end up convincing Molly to sleep in their bedroom, but she insisted on spreading a dark bath sheet under her. "Are you expecting a flood?"

"Mycroft!" Molly flushed, embarrassed despite herself. "It's heavier this time."

He got into bed and scooted over to slide an arm under her. "I don't understand why you're worrying about a little blood so much more than about semen."

"Oh, god. Let's not talk about it, OK?"

They were silent for quite a while and Molly had fallen into a light doze. "I understand that having sex can be helpful in relieving cramps. An orgasm uses up some of the excess prostaglandins that cause your uterus to contract. Plus, the release of endorphins can make you feel better."

Molly had stiffened as Mycroft went on, but suddenly relaxed and raised herself onto an elbow. "Did you google that?"

He'd been staring at the ceiling, but turned to look at her. "It was included among ways to relieve menstrual-related cramping."

Molly fell back onto her pillow. "I can't believe you'd even consider that." When he didn't say anything further, she turned to settle on her side and shifted the hot water bottle lower on her stomach. After a few moments, Mycroft moved into their spooning position, slid his arm around her waist, and nuzzled her hair aside to kiss her neck.

"Good night, Molly."

"Um, Mycroft …?"

#####

Another week passed without any unusual incidents. On the Thursday, Mycroft let himself into a quiet house. Molly had gone to the pub after work to meet Lestrade and the Watsons – and possibly Sherlock if he deigned to show up. He placed his briefcase on his desk, then poured himself a whisky and sank tiredly into a chair by the fireplace. He took a sip of his drink, then closed his eyes and dropped his head against the back of the chair. It had been a difficult day, but one he deemed ultimately successful in that the people of London had gone about their daily lives without having to know how close the dragons had come to wreaking so much havoc. He took another sip of whisky, wishing Molly was there. He'd become accustomed to having her in his life, to knowing he didn't have to do his living alone. To loving her.

Mycroft straightened abruptly, hearing the chime from the hall that signaled the opening of the front gate. He set his drink aside and went to welcome Molly home.