"Baby, baby, baby, light my fire … Wanna take you higher …"

Suppressing a wince at the ghastly lyrics his wife was belting out, Mycroft took a sip of tea and carefully placed the cup back in its saucer before looking across the table at a blank-faced Sherlock. His brother's cup was frozen midair as he stared at the doorway through which Molly had just left, still singing along with her iPod. "Boom shaka-laka-laka, boom shaka-laka-laka …"

Sherlock's eyes slid to Mycroft's and he blinked several times before setting his cup down with a clatter. "What the hell has got into Molly?"

Mycroft discarded several possible replies – rude, flippant, the truth – and settled on a partial truth. "She's excited about seeing our parents."

"Don't be ridiculous."

Mycroft sighed. "As difficult as it may be to believe, brother mine, some people do actually enjoy visiting their family members."

"Has Molly suffered a recent head injury?"

"Sherlock." Mycroft gave his brother a hard look but then heard Molly returning yet again and had to tighten his jaw and bite the inside of his lip against a sudden urge to laugh. Molly had passed on tea in favor of finishing some last minute tasks before they left, but he couldn't tell that she was actually doing anything and she'd refused his offer of assistance … thank you very much.

When Molly entered the kitchen, she stopped singing and instead executed a few dance moves to where they were sitting. "Woohoo, I'm going on a road trip with my Holmes boys!"

Mycroft gave in and chuckled softly as he swiveled on his stool. "Come sit down, my dear, and have some tea." She took his hand and swiftly moved in for a smacking kiss before he could take any defensive action. Ignoring both Sherlock's muttered "oh god" and the warmth he felt rising in his cheeks, Mycroft shifted to the next stool, slid his cup and saucer over, and reached for a clean cup for Molly. She smiled, but shook her head when he lifted the teapot.

As she turned away, Molly noticed her brother-in-law was staring at her like she'd lost her mind. "Sherlock, don't be annoying." She got a glass and went to the refrigerator for some juice, then returned to the table and took the stool Mycroft had vacated. "Why shouldn't I be happy? Mycroft and I were both able to leave work by half past five as planned, you arrived on time, I get to drive us to Surrey … and best of all I'm married to the most wonderful man in the world!" Sherlock gagged dramatically and Mycroft dropped his forehead onto his palm with a pained groan. Molly snorted, "Oh you two …," then took a long sip of juice. "I'm looking forward to the weekend. Would it do any good for me to ask you to act like you're enjoying it as well?"

"Probably not."

"Sherlock," Mycroft said sternly, but his eyes held an amused gleam that he didn't try to hide.

Mrs. Collingwood returned from visiting a friend in hospital just before they were ready to leave at seven. Molly gave Toby another cuddle before handing him to the housekeeper and following the men to the car. They were buckling their seatbelts when Molly twisted to look at Sherlock where he was sitting behind Mycroft. "Shift yourself over. I don't want a repeat of last year's trip." Sherlock huffed loudly, but moved as instructed.

The trip down was unexpectedly quiet as both brothers focused on their phones, although Mycroft did occasionally make a soft comment to Molly or reply to her remarks. At one point, they'd both been silent for twenty minutes straight and Molly almost missed their bickering. "Are you two playing Candy Crush?" There was no reply from the back seat, but Mycroft glanced up with a crease between his brows. "Never mind." After another ten minutes of nothing but phone tones and road noise, Molly reached for the radio. "All right if I put on some music? Radio 3?" Again, no answer from Sherlock, but Mycroft gave her a distracted smile.

Molly decided to enjoy the brothers' temporary cease fire. She let her window down a bit and glanced at Sherlock in the rearview mirror, his intent expression visible in the light from his phone, then at Mycroft who had a similar expression and posture. She felt a flood of affection for these two complicated men who apparently trusted her enough to put their safety in her hands as she sped through the dark countryside. She took a firmer grip on the steering wheel, slowed to the posted speed limit, and gave her full attention to the road.

It was a quarter to nine when Molly came to a neat stop by Violet's car and she and Mycroft immediately opened their car doors and stepped out. The two of them had been talking for the last ten miles, but Sherlock was still absorbed by whatever he was doing on his phone. Molly knocked on the rear window and he straightened with a jerk. "We're here, Sherlock."

"You do tend to state the obvious, sister dear."

Molly ignored the comment and headed for the house, ponytail bobbing, leaving it to the boys to bring in the bags. By the time she rounded the corner, the front door was open and both senior Holmeses were standing on the front step. Molly quickened her pace and shared a hug and kiss with Violet, then giggled when Siger gave her a noisy kiss on the forehead. Having parents-in-law who doted on her was an unexpected bonus.

By 9:15, they'd all gathered around the kitchen table for tea and chocolate cake, or milk and cake in Molly's case. She set the glass down after emptying half of it in one long swallow and saw the others were looking at her. "What is it?" She wiped her mouth self-consciously, thinking she must have a milk moustache.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, but Violet gave Molly a fond smile. "You just look so young, Molly … like a little girl hurrying through breakfast before leaving for school."

"I've always liked milk," she said, sheepishly, "especially with cake."

When they were finally moving from the kitchen to the sitting room, Mycroft's phone beeped and Molly saw the immediate change that came over him – the tense alertness that replaced his previously relaxed posture, the way the half-smile he gave her faded into a detached mask as he turned to go down the hall. They heard the front door close, and Violet looked at Molly, her brow creased in a worried frown. "Does this happen often?"

Molly watched as Sherlock took advantage of the distraction and headed upstairs with his laptop, then turned back to Violet and Siger. She shook her head slowly, looking thoughtful. "Actually, Mycroft hasn't been working on the weekends as much as he used to." When the elder couple sat in their favorite chairs, Molly sank onto the sofa, then pressed her lips together and released a long breath through her nose. "I've been enjoying having him at home without thinking to ask why."

"Perhaps he decided to cut back on his overtime since your marriage," Siger suggested.

"You know he doesn't have that kind of job, Dad, no matter what he says about occupying a 'minor position.' Nothing's 'overtime' for him – he's always put in whatever hours are required to deal with whatever the situation is, even around-the-clock for days if necessary." Molly rubbed her temple and gave an annoyed huff. "I can't believe I've been so clueless. Damn it! I never asked him to change anything about his work."

"Calm down, dear," Violet said. "You don't know that he has."

"Oh, he has," Molly said, wearily. "I'm sure of it."

When Mycroft came into the sitting room an hour later, his parents were both reading and Molly was curled up on the sofa, sound asleep. "We tried to get her to go to bed, but she wanted to wait for you awhile longer," his mother whispered as he went to stand over Molly. "She was upset."

Mycroft quickly looked at his mother. "Upset? Was she feeling all right?"

"Just concerned about you, I believe," Violet answered, looking at him curiously.

Mycroft turned back to Molly and gently ran a hand over her head. She finally roused, blinking up at him sleepily, and then looked at Siger and Violet. "Sorry – guess I was more tired than I thought." She headed to bed a few minutes later, leaving Mycroft to visit with his parents awhile longer.

When he came upstairs some time later, Mycroft thought Molly was asleep, but she turned her head toward him as soon as he got into bed. "I'm not stupid, Mycroft, but I've been stupidly oblivious about you being home more. You've done something to make yourself less available on the weekends."

"Molly –"

"Why did you do that? I never wanted our relationship to interfere with your work." Molly's voice rose. "I never asked you to change!"

A sudden bang on the wall was accompanied by Sherlock's cranky bellow. "Would you two shut up?"

"Sorry, Sherlock," Molly called back, grimacing, then dropped her voice to a low hiss. "You need to reverse whatever you've done."

"I'm not going to do that." Mycroft took her hand when she started to protest. "Listen to me, Molly. I haven't been unavailable - I've simply stepped back enough to allow some others to step up and do their jobs properly. My tendency to micromanage has caused certain people to depend on me for every single decision, even the low-level ones they are perfectly capable of handling. So far there've been only a few minor hiccups in the process."

"And you aren't worried about a major hiccup occurring that you might have prevented if you were there?"

"I wasn't always there before. I still monitor what's occurring on the weekends and go into the office if it's warranted." Mycroft let go of Molly's hand and slipped his arm around her back. She was quiet for several moments, brushing her fingers over the soft cotton of his T-shirt.

"If you think you needed to change because we're married, you're wrong. I love you exactly as you've always been and, for god's sake, I certainly don't want to domesticate you!" She bit her lip when her voice rose again, then continued in a softer tone. "If your brain isn't as fully occupied as possible, you're going to get bored, if you aren't already. You need much more mental stimulation than you can get from being with me, no matter how we fill the time. And the government needs you to be at the center of things. Those other people don't have your ability to look at facts and information coming in from every direction and to know how everything fits together, what it all means. You need to be doing the kind of filtering of information and focusing on what's actually important as only you can do – which, by the way, was Sherlock's description of what you do when he was in one of his more generous moods." She sat up and twisted to lean over him until their faces were level. "We need to get some sleep now, but I'm going to bring this up again when we get home." She studied his expression carefully, looking for any sign of irritation. "Kiss me?"

And Mycroft did so, most thoroughly.

#####

"For god's sake … what are you wearing?"

Siger grinned at himself in the hall mirror. "Nice, huh?" He straightened the black bow tie, which would have been an understated choice for Siger's birthday neckwear if it weren't for the tie's flashing multi-colored lights. "It was a gift."

"From Molly, no doubt."

"However did you guess?" Siger's lips quirked at Sherlock's snort, then widened into a real smile when Molly came down the stairs, followed closely by Mycroft. She gave Sherlock a "good morning" peck on the cheek and Siger an affectionate hug. "Happy birthday, Dad!"

Mycroft had stopped a few feet away. "Yes, happy birthday, Dad," he echoed, then added with a sideways glance at Molly. "Nice tie."

Molly reached to straighten Siger's collar, then slid her arm through his as they walked to the sitting room. "Where's Mummy?"

"Violet went to get some fresh eggs from the neighbors. She'll be back shortly." Siger waited until Molly dropped onto the sofa, then sat beside her, while Sherlock and Mycroft took the chairs facing them. "You're looking very pretty this morning, my dear."

"Thanks, Dad." Molly gave Mycroft her widest, bright-eyed smile. "It's from all the love."

Sherlock scoffed, and the tips of Mycroft's ears turned pink. "Molly –"

"What."

"Please … change the subject – now."

"Fine." Molly grinned when Mycroft grabbed a newspaper from the side table and buried his nose in it. Then Sherlock's phone beeped and he shot up and hurried out of the room. Molly sighed and tilted her head to look at Siger. "I guess it's just us, then." She toed off her shoes and curled her legs to the side on the sofa. "So what have you and Mummy been doing since we last talked?" The two of them chatted until Violet returned, then they all headed to the kitchen.

Once breakfast preparations were well underway, Molly slipped upstairs for a few minutes, then returned to sit by Mycroft, handing him a thin package. She looked up, straight into Sherlock's curious eyes, and shrugged when he raised his brows. When Violet had put the scones in the oven and joined them at the table, Mycroft pushed the package across to Siger. "Here, Dad. Molly and I have another present to give you later, but we'd like you to open your birthday card now." He slid his arm along the back of Molly's chair and paused when he saw Sherlock watching her. His brother nodded once, then surprised Mycroft by giving him a small smile.

Siger used a knife to open the package and pulled out the bulky card. A folded piece of white terry cloth fell to the table and he flipped it open and stared at the message on the yellow-trimmed baby bib: "I obviously get my good looks from my Grandpa!" He looked up with watery eyes and stretched to take one of Molly's hands and one of Mycroft's in his. "I don't need any other presents." He let go and went around the table to hug Molly and kiss her cheek. He shook Mycroft's hand but changed it to a hug, which Mycroft gingerly returned.

Violet had found the sonogram in Siger's card and was staring at the image with tears running down her face. She laid it on the table and wrapped her arm around Molly. "Oh you dear, dear girl," she said, kissing Molly's forehead. "I almost gave up on this ever happening. When's the baby due?"

"May fourteenth." Molly looked past Violet at Sherlock, who'd been remarkably quiet. At the very least, she'd expected some sort of caustic jibe to or about Mycroft. Instead, he calmly returned her look, then waggled his fingers at Violet until she handed him the sonogram.

While Sherlock studied the image, Molly braced herself, expecting an unemotional recitation of potential risks during the first trimester or arising from her relatively advanced age for a first pregnancy, but he simply said, "He looks to be developing normally."

"He? It's too soon to tell, Sherlock."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Of course it's a 'he,' Molly." He glanced at Mycroft. "Right, brother dear?" Mycroft looked at Molly but didn't say anything.

"Mycroft?"

"I do believe the baby is a boy, Molly, but Sherlock and I could be wrong." Sherlock snorted, and Mycroft gave him a hard look, but said nothing more.

Siger took the sonogram from Sherlock and asked Molly to explain what he was seeing. While Molly pointed out what could be determined at nine weeks, Violet went around the table and took Mycroft in her arms without saying anything. After several moments, he patted her back. "Come on, Mummy. The scones are going to burn."

Violet gasped and hurried to the stove to check on their breakfast. Soon after, everyone else had taken their places at the table and Violet leaned over Molly to place a filled plate in front of her.

"Thank you, Mum–" Molly abruptly pushed her chair back, said "excuse me" and hurried out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Mycroft looked at his mother, then went after Molly, but hesitated before tapping on the bathroom door. "Are you all right, darling?"

"I'm fine, just give me a minute." Molly finally opened the door, looking a bit pale and holding a wet flannel. "The smell of bacon apparently doesn't agree with me." She pressed the flannel against her cheeks, then grimaced. "Of all times for morning sickness to kick in - if that's what this is."

"What can I do?"

"I just need to lie down for a while." She stopped him when he started to follow her to the bedroom. "Go and eat your breakfast. You can bring me some dry toast after you're finished, but I'm in no hurry for it." He kept looking at her, his brow creased in a worried frown. "I'm all right, Mycroft. Tell the others I'm sorry to miss the family breakfast and that I'll be down a little later." Mycroft kissed her forehead before turning to go. Molly made her way to their bedroom, shut the door, opened the window for some fresh air, and then stretched out on the bed with a sigh.

Almost two hours later, Mycroft came in quietly and crossed to the bed, toeing his shoes off and carefully stretching out beside Molly before turning onto his side and folding his arm under his head. She didn't stir, and Mycroft watched her softly inhale and exhale, then again, the breaths so shallow that her chest barely moved, and then ran his eyes down the gentle curves of her body, the delicate lines of her slim limbs. Molly looked so young, so full of light, so innocent of the world's evils, and at that moment Mycroft felt the weight of their eleven-year age difference acutely – that all the dark things he'd seen and done, all the dark places he'd been to and that resided in him should have prevented their lives from ever intersecting … that he never should have met her, never put his hands on her, never come to love her. But he'd been inexplicably drawn to her company during the two years they'd shared Sherlock's secret and she, more incredibly, had likewise been drawn to him so that when she'd unexpectedly - in truth, perhaps unintentionally - offered him a chance to share something more with her, he'd been unable to resist the temptation. Mycroft stared at Molly's hand resting low on her stomach and experienced a moment of unprecedented panic at the thought of being responsible for a new life that would be even more innocent than Molly. How could he ensure that –

"Is Molly all right?" Mycroft jolted at his mother's whisper, then looked at her standing in the open doorway. "Is she feeling better?"

"She's still asleep." Mycroft answered Violet softly, but then raised his voice a bit to call Molly's name while running a finger over her cheek. He watched her eyes move behind their lids, then her lashes fluttered and he was staring into her warm brown eyes. She smiled slowly and hummed as she raised her palm to his chest and slid her hand up to curve around his neck. "Mummy's here to check on you."

Molly held his eyes for a moment before dropping her hand and turning to look at Violet. "I'm fine – I think." She scooted to the edge of the bed and sat up.

#####

Violet wouldn't let anyone assist her with Siger's birthday lunch, insisting that she had everything well in hand, so Molly and Mycroft went to sit in the back garden. Siger came outside awhile later, saying he'd been banished from the kitchen, and Sherlock was right behind him. Siger asked if the others would like to go for a walk, so the four of them went out the back gate and headed across the open field. They were all walking together until Sherlock abruptly strode off on his own. Molly glanced at the others, then took off after him. Once she caught up, she slipped her arm through Sherlock's, ignoring his long-suffering sigh.

"Slow down, Sherlock," Molly protested. "We're not in a race."

"I'm not walking too quickly," he said, glowering. "You're just short, Molly."

She looked over her shoulder. "You're increasing the distance from your dad and Mycroft, and they're as tall as or taller than you, so you're going too fast."

"They're old and fat – well, Mycroft's fat."

"Mycroft is not fat, Sherlock!" Molly huffed in annoyance. "That joke isn't funny, you know. It's getting really old."

"So is Mycroft."

"No he's not." Molly sighed. "Are you ever going to stop insulting him? You're thirty-nine, he's forty-six … don't you think it's about time the bickering stopped?"

"He starts it."

"He does sometimes," she conceded, "but not as often as you." Molly rolled her eyes. "I'm almost thirty-six years old and having to talk to my brother-in-law about how to behave. I suppose it's good practice for when I have an actual child to raise." She looked over her shoulder again and tugged on his arm. "We're getting too far ahead of them."

"That was the point."

"Sherlock." She pulled and tugged until they were facing the other direction. "Come on. Lunch will be ready before long."

Two hours later, Siger was sitting at the head of the table, wearing a bright red cone hat, while his bowtie flashed with multi-colored lights. He sat up straighter when he heard Violet and Molly returning from the kitchen. As they came into the room, Violet carrying his cake, ablaze with candles, the two of them started singing "Happy Birthday" and Sherlock and Mycroft joined in, but only after receiving stern glances from both women. As Violet set the orange and white-chocolate sponge in front of Siger, Molly hovered with a box of matches, ready to relight any candles that went out. "Hurry up and make a wish so you can blow out the candles!"

They had made it through the main meal without much sniping between the brothers, but Sherlock's resistance failed when Molly was serving the cake.

"That slab of cake will blow the diet for sure, brother dear –"

"Shut up, Sherlock!" The others' heads whipped around at Molly's sharp rebuke, but she kept her eyes on Sherlock's. "Stop being so tedious."

"Molly –"

"It's true, Mycroft. Sherlock's constant needling of you about an unnecessary diet is a complete bore." She turned back to Sherlock. "Mycroft may be older than you, but he's taller than you, perfectly lean, even a bit underweight for his height, more active than you think, and in exceedingly good shape. Pay attention, brother dear, and stop with the old joke." She raised the cake knife again, arching a brow at him. "How much do you want?"

When Molly took Sherlock's plate to him, she kissed his cheek before he could stop her. "You're still my favorite brother-in-law." She grinned at him when he snorted, then returned to take her seat by Mycroft.

By the time they'd finished eating, stored the leftovers, and completed the kitchen clean-up, it was almost half past three and Siger and Violet went upstairs for their usual afternoon nap.

Molly wanted to get out of the house so she and Mycroft walked to the village and strolled around looking in shop windows before walking back to The Cottage. Sherlock was on his laptop in the sitting room and studied Molly for a moment, before returning his gaze to the screen. "Blue raspberry slush puppy, Molly?"

"How did you – never mind." Molly went upstairs to the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror. Her tongue looked blue and her lips also had a bluish tinge. Brushing her teeth and tongue helped, but didn't entirely get rid of the evidence.

Siger and Violet were back downstairs by five so Molly and Mycroft joined them in the sitting room. Sherlock had disappeared again, and Molly found herself hoping there wasn't a gun on the premises. She'd heard what happened to Mrs. Hudson's walls when he got bored, and Sherlock was most definitely bored. She figured Mycroft's boredom had almost reached Sherlockian levels but he was better at hiding it.

The conversation turned to the baby and Siger and Violet – mostly Violet – asked so many questions about their plans that Molly felt as if she'd been interrogated, if in a kindly manner. There hadn't been time for Molly and Mycroft to discuss the kind of details Violet brought up, and Molly felt a bit overwhelmed by the time their talk changed to what to have for supper.

By a quarter to ten, Molly had fallen asleep on the sofa and Mycroft wrapped an arm around her so her head was resting on his chest. She roused a bit when she first felt the vibration of his voice under her ear, but was lulled back to sleep by the easy rhythm of his heartbeat and the drone of conversation. Mycroft woke her when the others were ready to go to bed. He let Molly have the bathroom first, then waited until she was in bed before giving her a brief kiss and going to get a shower. When he returned, Mycroft carefully positioned himself along the curve of Molly's body and slid his arm over her waist, expecting her to be asleep again, but instead she shifted away and rolled to face him, folding her arm under her head.

"Mycroft …"

"Hmmm?"

"All that talk about the baby tonight …"

"Yes?"

"Your parents are obviously ecstatic at the thought of having a grandchild to spoil, but they seemed to assume you'll be participating in a lot of the usual childhood activities." Molly put her palm on his chest and urged him onto his back, then scooted over to burrow her head in the hollow between his neck and shoulder. "As far as I'm concerned, the only thing you have to do is to love him unconditionally. The details can work themselves out as we go along, but I won't be expecting you to get strained carrots spit up on you or to bathe a slippery toddler or to wrangle kids at noisy birthday parties or to take him to Legoland." She lifted her head to look at him. "But I am counting on you to be around until your father's age and beyond so we'll have a lot of years being just the two of us at home again once this child grows up and has his own life to live." She dropped her head back against his shoulder. "And I don't ever want us to stop being a couple and start treating each other like nothing more than his parents. Do you know what I mean?"

"I do," Mycroft said, brushing his fingers up and down her arm. Molly nestled closer and was quiet for so long that he thought she'd gone to sleep, but she suddenly slid her hand off his chest and rested it on her stomach.

"I've known how a baby is conceived for more than twenty-five years, but first it was a basic 'how babies are made' talk and then later the emphasis was on preventing that from happening. I'd never really considered the act of conception in personal terms," she said, rubbing her hand in a circle. "Now I keep thinking about how my becoming pregnant depended on that one single sperm out of millions of your little wiggly guys overcoming incredible odds at just the right moment to fertilize my egg, and even after that so much more had to go right." She sighed, then gave him a slow smile. "But what I really think about most is the fact that I'm carrying a part of you inside me twenty-four hours a day, which makes me feel incredibly sexy."

Mycroft slipped his hand around her neck and tugged her closer until their mouths met in a kiss that started out easy but gradually deepened. Molly broke away and whispered, "Won't Sherlock hear?"

"We'll just have to be quiet," Mycroft whispered back, then slowly rolled them onto their sides. "Unless you'd rather go to sleep."

Molly slid her leg over his hip to pull him closer. "Not a chance, Mr. Holmes."

#####

Molly was lightly dozing, her cheek pressed to Mycroft's bare chest, when someone tapped on their bedroom door early Sunday morning. Her eyes flew open when she heard Violet softly call her name. Oh god. She knew Mycroft would be mortified for his mother to see them in bed together, much less in bed together naked. Molly pushed herself up and off of him and was moving to sit up when the door cracked open. She swiftly jerked the bedcovers over Mycroft's chest and clutched them to her breasts as Violet's head appeared around the door. Molly smiled and beckoned her to come in since there wasn't much else she could do.

"Good morning, darling girl," Violet whispered as walked to the bed and set a small foil-covered plate and a bottle of water on the bedside table. "I brought you some dry toast and crackers. It should help settle your stomach if you eat a few bites before getting up."

"Thank you, Mummy … I will." Molly saw Violet glance at Mycroft's sleeping form before her eyes slid back to Molly, who flushed right on cue. "Um, Mycroft's still asleep." And I'm an idiot for stating the obvious again.

"So I see," she said, looking amused. "I just wanted to bring you the toast before you got up." She took a few steps toward the door, stooped toward the floor, and turned back to lay their pajamas across the foot of the bed, giving Molly another amused look. "I'll see you both later."

Molly simply fell back onto her pillow and pulled the covers over her head.

#####

While the others tucked into Violet's usual morning feast, Molly took a glass of orange juice and a plain scone into the back garden and settled on a bench along the stone wall. The smell of bacon had caused only a low level of queasiness and even that had eased off once she went outside. She set her empty glass on the ground, stretched her arms along the back of the bench, raised her face to the clear blue sky, and drew a deep breath of the cool morning air.

"Feeling better?"

Molly opened her eyes and smiled at Violet, then shifted over to make room. "Mmmm, from sheer enjoyment of this beautiful weather. The morning sickness was really nothing. I think the toast and crackers did the trick."

Violet patted Molly's leg then drew her own deep breath. "It really is a lovely morning. After so much rain for so long, the past week has been glorious."

They sat in companionable silence for a while, then Violet sighed. "I'm sorry for all the questions last night, Molly. You can't have had time to think about everything, much less to have made decisions that you're ready to share." She turned to Molly and frowned. "I hope you don't think I was being critical when I asked if you were going to stop working."

Molly took Violet's hand. "Not at all. I'm not sure what will happen in the long-term. I'll be doing more teaching and administrative work and less hands-on in the lab and morgue the farther along I get. At this point, I plan to go back to work after my maternity leave, but I don't know. I know it's not necessary financially, but I do enjoy it, and there's child care available at work, so I could have the baby close by." She sighed. "I just don't know, Mummy."

"Stop thinking about it for now and let's enjoy the day," Violet urged, patting Molly's leg again. "So … how did Mycroft react when you told him?"

Molly gave Violet an exaggerated look of shock, then giggled. "Surprised. He was actually surprised. I assumed Mycroft would be the one informing me if I ever got pregnant." She looked toward the kitchen window. "I had just stopped taking the pill the first week of June and my system and hormones were doing crazy things, so I assumed everything going on with me was related to that. It wasn't until Wednesday that I seriously considered I could be pregnant so I had the sonogram done by a friend at work that morning. Mycroft didn't know anything about it until I presented him with the proof." Molly paused, then grinned slowly at Violet. "At lunch. At the Diogenes Club."

"At the Diogenes!" Violet laughed. "A pregnancy announcement at the Diogenes … that must surely have been a first!"

Molly's grin faded and she sighed. "Mycroft has dealt with so many changes over the past year, and he's been so good to me. Sometimes I still think it must be a dream, that there's no way the 'Ice Man' I first saw at Bart's could be the man he is with me now."

Violet sobered as well. "For all that Siger and I hoped Mycroft would someday meet someone and then actually let that someone into his life, I didn't really believe it would ever happen. He'd always been detached from people, and he never showed any interest in women – or men – that we saw. It was all about the work or having to deal with Sherlock, which I know involved a lot more time and trouble than he's ever let on to us about." She looked at Molly with raised brows, then continued when Molly said nothing. "It's possible Mycroft had some sort of personal life that we knew nothing about, but, if he did, there was no sign of it in the way he acted and no evidence of it at his home. When we'd visit London and go out to dinner or to a show or some other public place, I'd often see women and sometimes men look Mycroft over and make an effort to get his attention, but he didn't seem to notice." She paused, considering that. "Well, being Mycroft, he probably noticed someone was looking at him, but I doubt he realized it was in appreciation." A sigh, then she continued, "As you know, Sherlock never lets Mycroft forget that he had some issues with weight in his early adult years, and I think that's affected Mycroft's image of himself ever since."

Molly took Violet's hand and gave it a squeeze. "The first time I saw Mycroft, he was arguing with Sherlock across the lab from me. I didn't know who he was and he was in his iciest Ice Man mode, so he certainly didn't create a good first impression," she said, smiling at the memory. "But then he kidnapped me …" she stopped to laugh at Violet's gasp. "Come on, Mummy … you've heard about him doing that! Anyway, Mycroft was being scary Ice Man, and I was doing my best not to be intimidated, and I came away from it being proud to have held my own with him but also feeling overwhelmed by his – I don't know, I guess his charisma. Later that night, when I thought about what had happened, I found myself remembering how damned attractive Mycroft was in his three-piece suit and with that deep voice and how tall and lean and powerful he looked."

When Molly didn't go on, Violet asked tentatively, "How did the two of you ever get together?"

"That wasn't until years later. After I helped with Sherlock's supposed death, Mycroft would contact me from time to time to let me know Sherlock was all right, and then we started having tea occasionally and later we met on a bit more of a regular schedule - as Mycroft told you when you forced him to spill the beans last year!" Molly grinned, then continued, "The meetings stopped when Sherlock came back, but then Mycroft contacted me after a couple of months and we started going to tea again."

"And then?"

Molly glanced at the kitchen window, then looked at Violet. "You know Mycroft wouldn't like me talking to you about this, right?" When her mother-in-law nodded, she went on, "So let's not tell him I told you." Violet giggled – there was no other word for it. "Well, it was about six months after my engagement to Tom ended, and Mycroft and I were having tea. I was feeling quite lonely and blurted out something about missing being with someone occasionally." Molly looked at Violet and flushed. "I can't believe I'm telling my husband's mother this."

"Because you know your mother-in-law understands completely."

Molly grinned. "Anyway, I then blurted out the idea of having a friend with benefits – a concept Mycroft was completely unfamiliar with, by the way - and his reaction made me want to needle him a bit, so I asked if he knew anyone who might be interested and … well, a couple of weeks later he showed up at my flat and, um, offered his services. So to speak."

Violet gasped and stared at Molly, wide-eyed. "I don't believe it. My Mycroft? Really?"

"Really."

They silently stared at each other, then Violet started to grin. "Well, well, well." She turned to look at the kitchen window. "I don't think I've ever been so proud of my son." They were silent again for a few moments, then Molly burst out laughing and Violet joined in.

Indoors, Siger was putting a stack of plates in the sink and happened to look out the window. "Oh, dear."

"What's wrong?"

Siger turned away and looked at Mycroft, who was sitting by himself at the kitchen table, Sherlock having disappeared somewhere right after they finished eating. "Um, probably nothing."

Mycroft studied his father for several moments, then got up and joined him at the sink. He looked at his father, then gently pushed him aside so he could see out the window. His mother and Molly were sitting on the bench, laughing … and continued to laugh while he watched. Mycroft turned away and leaned against the sink. "So? They're … chatting," he said, grimacing.

Siger shook his head slowly. "Son, when women are laughing together like that, they are almost certainly talking about men. In this case, us."

Mycroft stared at his father, alarmed. "Molly wouldn't …"

"I once thought that about your mother."

They turned in unison to regard their wives. "Surely Molly wouldn't …"

Oh but she would.

"What happened next, if you don't mind my asking?"

"He, um, invited me to spend the following weekend at the house …" Molly looked at Violet, then flushed as she continued, "and it was better than I could ever have imagined. Mycroft was … is, um, amazing." Violet arched a brow, and Molly arched both of hers and nodded.

"So, in other words, he takes after his dad," Violet said, deadpan, and they burst out laughing again. They both turned to look at the kitchen window and jumped when they saw their husbands staring back at them.

"Oh shit," Molly muttered.

Violet covered her mouth to guard against any possible lip-reading. "We tell them nothing." After a few moments, they got up and walked around the edge of the garden, with Violet answering Molly's questions about various plantings. By the time they reached the kitchen door and went in, they had control of themselves and were able to meet their husbands' eyes without laughing. Molly bit the inside of her jaw when Mycroft's gaze narrowed on her suspiciously, but she gave him a close-mouthed smile and took her glass to the sink. She was relieved when Sherlock suddenly swept into the kitchen, Belstaff swirling around his legs.

"We need to leave now."

"We're not leaving until after lunch, Sherlock."

"No, we're going now, brother mine. Lestrade has a case." Sherlock's eyes met Molly's, then moved on to Violet and Siger. "I'm sorry, Mummy and Dad."

"It's all right, dear, but I don't think Mycroft is ready –"

"Mycroft?" Sherlock stared at his brother, a deep crease between his brows.

Mycroft looked at Molly. "Are you all right with leaving now?"

"Of course she's all right with it," Sherlock snapped irritably. "Come on, you're wasting time." He gave Violet a brief hug and kissed her cheek, then hugged his father and went out the door, calling over his shoulder. "I'll be in the car."

Mycroft sighed, then held his hand out to Molly. "We better get our things together."

As the younger couple went upstairs, Siger looked at Violet and sighed. "Do I want to know what you and Molly were talking about in the garden?"

"Let's just say you should be extremely proud of your son," she replied, grinning mischievously, and gave him a quick kiss. "Mikey's apparently a chip off the old block."

#####

"Can't you go any faster?"

"I could go a lot faster, Sherlock, but I could also get arrested. Unless Greg wants to send us a police escort, eighty is as fast as I'm going."

"Molly –"

"Needs to focus on the road, brother dear," Mycroft broke in, smoothly, "and you need to relax and stop distracting her." Sherlock huffed loudly in annoyance, but slumped back on the seat. Mycroft reached over to give Molly's knee a quick squeeze, then sat back and took out his phone.

Molly thought they'd made good time as she turned off the A3 onto Roehampton Lane, then groaned when she saw the flashing lights from a police motorcycle coming up quickly behind her. Molly pulled over as soon as she could, then reached for her handbag. She stopped, shocked, when Sherlock jumped out, yelling "Bring my bag to Bart's tomorrow!" before he slammed the car door and hurried toward the policeman, grabbing the extra helmet as he swung onto the back of the motorcycle. She and Mycroft watched as the motorcycle sped off, lights still flashing, Sherlock's coat fluttering in the wind before he quickly tucked it under his thigh, and then looked at each other.

"Well, Sherlock said he was in a hurry," Mycroft observed dryly, then smiled when Molly snorted.

The rest of the drive home was slower and much more pleasant. When they neared St. John's Wood, Mycroft asked Molly if she'd like to have lunch out since Mrs. Collingwood had the day off, so she changed course and headed for a corner "gastro pub" that was located within a mile of the house and reported to have a good Sunday menu. She pulled into a curbside parking space just meters from the pub door and turned to Mycroft with a grin. "How's that?"

Mycroft looked over her shoulder at the pub and nodded. "It looks fine."

Molly had deliberately shown no reaction to Mycroft's suggestion of an unplanned lunch out, but she actually felt stunned. She couldn't believe they were going to a pub like a "normal" couple, especially one that hadn't been checked out by security. Actually, Molly thought, someone might have been following them from Surrey and even now be on alert nearby, but she chose to believe they were on their own.

Mycroft took Molly's hand as they walked the short distance to the pub, then held the door open. Molly stopped to look at him before going through the door in an attempt to fix the image in her mind. Mycroft was wearing a pair of black cords, a white shirt – no tie, top two buttons undone - and a charcoal gray V-necked jumper. He looked casually elegant, but not so elegant that he didn't fit in with the pub crowd. Molly was actually dressed quite similarly – black jeans, white shirt and pale gray jumper – but she couldn't pull off the kind of easy sophistication that seemed to come naturally to Mycroft.

The pub was about two-thirds full and they were able to get a booth in the snug located off the side of the main room and far enough away from the bar and televisions to be a bit quieter. They studied the menu, then Mycroft went to the bar to place their order and bring back drinks. Once he settled across from her and took a sip of wine, he set the glass down and put his hand on the table, palm up in invitation. Molly looked at it, then placed her palm over his.

"So," he said, rubbing the back of her hand, "what were you and Mummy talking about in the garden?"

Molly didn't answer directly. "I can talk to her about things I wouldn't talk to anyone else about." She stopped to take a sip of sparkling water. "I'll be able to ask Mary questions about being pregnant, but talking to Mummy will be like talking to my own mother." Mycroft was aware that Molly hadn't answered his question, but let it go.

They weren't in a hurry to get home, so lingered over the traditional Sunday roast and trimmings, which Mycroft agreed was tasty enough, if not up to his mother's or Mrs. Collingwood's standards. It was just after three when Molly pulled the car into the garage. When they were walking to the back door, Mrs. Collingwood came out of her flat, carrying Toby. She followed them into the house for a few minutes before leaving again, then Mycroft and Molly headed upstairs to put their things away.

Molly was on the bed in her room, playing with Toby, when Mycroft came in. "What would you like to do the rest of the day?"

"You need to do some work." She observed, scratching Toby's chest. "I heard all those text alerts."

"Anthea's on top of things." He waved a hand dismissively. "What do you want to do?"

Molly tilted her head and considered him thoughtfully. "Soak in the tub. Take a nap. Have my way with you."

Mycroft studied Molly equally thoughtfully. "Could we reverse the order?" When she giggled, he took Toby from her and set him aside, then picked Molly up and headed down the hall.

Molly slipped her arms around his neck and pressed several kisses along his jawline. "I love you, Mycroft Holmes." She kissed him in front of his ear. "I adore you." She kissed his earlobe, which caused a quiver to run through him, then whispered into his ear, "I want you … I crave you with every cell of my body." His hold on her tightened and he hitched her higher in his arms as he pushed the bedroom door shut with his foot, then crossed the room and set her on her feet by the bed.

Mycroft lifted her chin with his thumb and forefinger, kissed her forehead, then pulled back and met her eyes. "I love you, Molly Hooper Holmes." He gently kissed her lips, then met her eyes again. "I adore you." He carefully pulled her jumper over her head, then tugged her shirttail from her trousers and slowly unbuttoned her shirt. He slipped the shirt down her arms, letting it fall to the floor, then cupped her breasts and brushed his thumbs over her lace-covered nipples. "Are your breasts sore?"

"Not sore, just extra sensitive," Molly said, as he slid his hands around to flick her bra open and pull it down her arms.

Mycroft took hold of her waist, tugging her to him, then arched her backward and lowered his head to her breasts. "I crave you." Molly gasped and clutched his upper arms when he gently nibbled on her right nipple, then laved it with his tongue. She moaned, urging his head closer as he moved to her other nipple and did the same. Mycroft lifted his head and returned his attention to undressing Molly. Once she was naked, he moved closer, urging her onto the bed. She lay back, arms flung overhead, and watched him pull his jumper off and toss it toward a chair. Her breath caught when he undid his belt, loosened his trousers and lowered the zipper, before shrugging out of his shirt and reaching for his wristwatch –

"Stop!" Molly quickly sat up, grabbed his left hand and tugged him toward her. "God ... your wrists and hands drive me crazy. And wearing that wristwatch –" She ran her fingers around and under his watchband and raised his hand to her mouth … "hnnnnggg …," licking his palm before running her tongue over his wrist, then she took the base of his thumb between her teeth and dragged her lips along it until she sucked the thumb into her mouth. Mycroft's fingers caressed Molly's jaw as she continued playing with his thumb, the wet sounds audible despite his heavier breathing. She looked up at him from under her brows and slowly pulled her mouth away.

When Molly licked her lips, Mycroft suddenly gripped her upper arms and lifted her off the bed, clamping his mouth on hers and delving deep. Molly pulled her arms free and shoved his trousers and pants down, then fell back onto the bed, clutching him to her with arms and legs. She gave a protesting moan when he struggled free and stood again, then gasped when he slid his hands between her knees, separating them as he pulled her backside to the edge of the bed, and carefully positioned himself before slowly pushing into her until he could go no farther. Their eyes met and he bent to kiss her again, their tongues tangling for several moments, before he raised his head and almost withdrew from her. Molly moaned and reached for Mycroft's shoulders when he thrust more firmly into her, then retreated again, thrusting and retreating, settling into an unhurried rhythm, their breathing getting faster and rougher until Molly gave a choked sob - ohgodohgodohgodohgod … He wrapped his hands around the back of her knees, tilted her hips higher, and leaned further into his thrusts, grunting from the strain, then groaned from deep in his core when Molly cried out and dug her fingernails into his shoulders. Several sharp thrusts ended with an eruption so powerful that Mycroft's knees gave way and he had to catch himself with both hands against the mattress to avoid collapsing on top of Molly. He quickly withdrew and swung her legs farther onto the bed before falling on it alongside her.

When Mycroft's breathing had finally returned to normal, he raised his head until he could see Molly's face, which had gone slack with sleep. Ah. He got up and tugged the bedcovers down, worked them out from under her, then carefully adjusted her position until she lay lengthways on the bed. He settled beside her, pulled the covers over them, and stretched out with a tired sigh. Being loved, he thought … being craved, was good. Very good indeed.