#mollcroft search

[afteriwake]

Make that three fics, as I was requested by @strangelock221b to write a Mollcroft fic inspired by this art.

Compositions (A "What Could Have Been, What Will Be In Its Stead" Story) - Mycroft is composing a lullaby for Molly and Sherlock's son.

READ @ AO3 | SERIES PAGE

Molly had gone to the store to get some food for dinner and some currant cheesecake to curb her latest pregnancy craving and she arrived back at the fortress to the most beautiful cello music she had ever heard. It wasn’t a tune she recognized, but it was soft and sweet and almost brought her to tears. She went to go put the food away and then began to search for the source of the music. She found it in Mycroft’s study, and took in the sight of Mycroft with a cello and a music stand in front of him, papers on it and crumpled around the floor. Her heart caught in her throat as a thought washed over her. If Sherlock was still alive, it would be him with a violin, but she had Mycroft and a cello and she loved the sight just as much as she had always loved to watch Sherlock compose new pieces.

There may be differences; she was clothed and so was Mycroft, and it was a different instrument, but the sight of Mycroft sans tie and waistcoat with his sleeves rolled up, cello between his legs and bow in hand...well, it was something she knew few would ever get to see. She felt privileged to see it, especially when he noticed she was there and stopped. His hair was slightly mussed and she swore he looked younger than he usually did.

“That was beautiful,” she said. “The music was just lovely.”

“It’s a lullaby for your son,” he said. “I know Sherlock would have composed multiple pieces by now, but I rarely touch the cello. I just...it felt appropriate.”

“You play well,” she said, moving to the couch to sit down. “Have you finished it?”

“Not quite, and it doesn’t seem appropriate to play it for you both while it’s unfinished.”

“Ah,” she said. She put her hand on her expanded belly; she’d been playing some of Sherlock’s compositions that she’d persuaded him to record in hopes her son would hear them in utero, but this was different. Nothing that Sherlock had written had been for his son; this would be William’s song especially. “Could you play other things for a while?”

“I suppose, though I’m rusty,” Mycroft said. “I never kept up with playing and composing as much as Sherlock did.”

“It’s alright,” she replied. Mycroft gave her a small smile and then put bow to cello and play. It wasn’t anything recognizable to her, but it was lovely nonetheless. She realized there were bits and pieces of Sherlock in it, and this must have been something they composed as children. She wondered if it had been before or after Eurus had been banished from the family because there could be room for more than one violin in it. But it was happy, happier than anything she imagined Mycroft had ever composed as an adult if he had composed anything before the lullaby since he stopped playing.

She shut her eyes and just listened, lost in the music until her eyes flew open when William kicked. “Mycroft!”

“What?” he asked, worry in his tone.

“Put your hand on my belly. Maybe he’ll do it again.”

“He kicked?” Mycroft asked, realization dawning on him as he leaned the cello against the sofa and leaned forward, placing his hand near hers.

“He did,” she said. They waited only a few moments before there was another kick. Mycroft smiled and Molly almost wanted to kiss his cheek, he looked so cute. But she restrained herself; she was falling for him, yes, but until she could reconcile her love for Sherlock with her love for Mycroft it wasn’t the time. Mycroft removed his hand, took the cello back to its playing position, and began to play again, a waltz she recognized this time. She hummed along, utterly content for this moment to stretch on as long as possible.

There is not just one musician in the family - (2022)

There’s one thing a lot of people don’t know about the Holmes brothers: Sherlock isn’t the only musician in the family.

ETA: I’m spoiled! This artwork inspired two fics in a span of only a couple of days. A big thank you to the authors for their hard work, I’m so happy. Please, enjoy the following stories:

Cello by janto321 (FaceofMer) (Greg Lestrade/Mycroft Holmes - General audiences - Fluff, domestic fluff - 465 words - Greg comes home to hear Mycroft playing his cello )

You are the only one who sees me by Mimisempai (Greg Lestrade/Mycroft Holmes - General audiences - Fluff, established relationship - 1081 words -  Greg comes home early from work and surprising Mycroft, he discovers something new about his lover…)   

[elizasmarkgatissblog]

gif hunting on tumblr with tags

molly hooper/mycroft holmes/louise brealey

molly hooper/mycroft holmes/sherlock

#molly hooper#mycroft holmes#louise brealey#mark gatiss#mollcroft#sherlock#wow my bbs#*celebrates last day of school with this*#coco makes things#haha aka the only moment we seem them interact#popular

molly hooper/mycroft holmes/mollcroft

i tell you, how can i not go mad!

this is just the tip of the ice berg!

and, there is no way to search pics!!

which is why there is so much re-posting!

i truly believe nobody does it on purpose!

*sigh*

sorry, mad at myself for being inefficient

*sheepish smile*

[elizasfanfictionblog]

to have and to hold

(a mollcroft ficlet)

[x]

[Molly’s bedroom]

Molly let out a long sigh, her whole body weary, struggling to move to her side without disturbing the sleeping form of Mycroft. Her mind was in full active mode even though her body wanted her to sleep. Was it only a week back that Mycroft had asked her out for dinner? Biting her lower lip she thought hard as her eyes took in the tired face of the government official. A tentative hand reached out to touch that forehead where a perpetual frown had been lodged these past few days, now smooth as a baby’s skin. Her finger tips graced the eyebrows in feather like touches, when suddenly aware that those enigmatic eyes were now open and studying her in the darkness of her bedroom she pulled back her hand and gave a weak smile without making eye contact.

“Not sleepy?” was the outward response although she knew he had meant something else, something her racing mind could not catch on to even though she tried hard.

“It was another bomb scare,” he supplied casually, as answer to her muddled thoughts. “The usual,” he shrugged and lay on his back, arms going up above his head and supporting his neck, then turning his head to catch her greedy expression for more.

Laughing softly he pulled her closer while lifting the crumpled sheet to hold her naked body close to his. Molly’s leg went around his hip automatically while her arm circled his shoulder, her head resting on his chest.

Closing her eyes hoping for more she waited as her mind recalled the night that had passed. The silence helped as she realised that Mycroft had fallen back to sleep. Rubbing her cheek on the tickling hairs she opened her eyes and looked up. Why was it that men went to sleep so fast?

Resting her chin on her hand that now lay splayed on his chest she remembered his urgent hold of her on entering the apartment just a couple of hours back.

[flash back]

Molly had got back from the morgue and after a shower was searching the fridge wondering what to make for dinner when she heard the front door open and thought it was Sherlock.

“Want anything to eat?” she had called out while humming to a tune that was stuck in her head, the lyrics evading her as she bent down to rummage the vegetable tray at the bottom, when she yelped at the grab of a hand around her waist but melted into the arms that held her tight her back pressed to the soft woollen coat, her head arching to accommodate the lips of a passionate Mycroft who was barely composed.

Molly automatically raised her arms and as one held his head in place the other joined him as he held onto her waist with a force that expressed his need for an anchor. Together they stood still, enveloped in an emotional storm, Molly receiving the full force of the turmoil and cushioning it with her silent acceptance as the turbulence passed through her trembling body and slowly dissipated.

The tension having receded she felt the slow release of the iron grip and was about to straighten herself when she felt herself being swirled around and kissed passionately . Mind whirling with pent up feelings, both shared each other’s passion and Molly felt herself being raised realising that she was now seated on the kitchen table.

“Not here in the kitchen Mycroft,” she mumbled in a plea that she was positive was lost to the Ice Man who seemed to have an agenda of his own but was surprised.

For, with a gruff, “Then it’s the living room,” he picked her up like a doll and in swift strides deposited her and followed her on the floor.

The next few minutes was a frenzied rush to touch and reveal as hands caressed skin that was exposed while the other removed clothing without any systematic order. As much as Molly enjoyed a quick tumble, she had hoped that their first time would be more romantic and savouring, since Mycroft had always seemed someone in complete control of himself. This dark passionate side of his was an exhilarating surprise and she was dragged into that frenzy, drowning herself in his need allowing her base emotions to overwhelm her completely.

Sated and exhausted within a couple of minutes, sweating and panting, they lay on their discarded clothes that peppered her living room floor, legs still tangled but bodies just apart to catch their breath and cool their heated bodies.

“That was fast,” Molly giggled, her tummy contracting, her breasts jiggling as she tried hard to control the burst of laughter.

“Mocking me, are you?!” Mycroft hoarsely threatened, his voice unsteady as his breathing slowed, yet eyes glinted with humour, something that she had never before seen.

Her head still tilted to look at his dishevelled form, Molly smiled in response and opened her mouth to ask if he was hungry but was silenced by his lips as he had suddenly slid closer and covered her body with hers. Unable not to respond to his demanding attention Molly arched her hips and lifted her legs, then yelped when she found herself being lifted from the floor and now being carried as Mycroft mumbled, “Let’s take this to the bedroom shall we?”

[back to present]

And that was how the night had ended.

And now she was hungry.

“Just order something from that take away place you love so much,” Mycroft spoke into the darkness, her chin moving along with his chest as he sighed deeply and pulled her closer to kiss her temple while rubbing his hand along her cool back.

Wide eyed with wonder she stared at him then reluctantly moved away from the bed in search of her phone.

[an hour later]

“Sherlock was there, meddling with the suspected package.”

That curt sentence revealed the cause for his distress.

Molly sat silently with the take away in her hand, having now lost her appetite.

[miz-joelys-sherlollilists]

I read an answer in your ask when you said about the love triangle between Sherlock/Molly/Mycroft. Any faves?

Not really, sorry, as that isn’t one of my things (sorry but Mollcroft squicks me out big time). Anyone else have any faves? Or check these posts:

There was a fic I read not long ago where it was sort of a love triangle between Molly, Sherlock and Mycroft with eventual Sherlolly ofc but I can’t remember anything else except that it was super angsty.

Hi, I search a Sherlolly fic in which Mycroft is in love with Molly too. A story with a little brotherly rivalry and at the end with Sherlolly. :)

I was wondering if there will be any work on the list where Sherlock and Mycroft fight for Molly's love I've read fics with that theme before, but they're , but they were Mollcroft oriented, and I would prefer to read one in which Sherlock winns

[afteriwake]

May I Leave You In Love And Peace (A “The Plans Of Fae And Molly” Story)

And this was an answer for a Mollcroft fic by @strangelock221b. I decided I wanted to update this series and we’ll see how soon I can write his return!

May I Leave You In Love And Peace - After a fruitless search for his and Sherlock's sister in London, Mycroft has to go back to the realm of the fae, and he and Molly share a tender good-bye.

READ @ AO3 | SERIES PAGE | BUY ME A COFFEE?

They spent a week looking for the sister, but it was a fruitless task. London was a huge city, and humans had a grasp of the underground that confounded Molly. But the fae...they made it an art of hiding in the open. Sherlock never made much noise about hiding, but she had the feeling had he really been serious about losing himself in London before she’d saved him, Mycroft never would have found him.

But the task of finding their sister was going to have to go by the wayside as the King’s health took precedence. With Sherlock being banished he wouldn’t get to go back to the realm of the fae, by she and Mycroft could come and go freely. Sherlock wasn’t strong enough to protect himself yet, though, so for now, Mycroft would go back to get news and see if Molly needed to come now or if it could wait a bit longer while they looked for Eurus and her Unseelie lover.

Lover...that wasn’t quite what Mycroft was to her, as the most physical their relationship had gotten was the kiss that caused them to float in the air, a shared bed where they simply slept, and physical touches here and there with a few cheek kisses thrown in. But she had come to the realization that there was a relationship brewing between them. She’d gone back to the ER and confirmed it to her co-workers with a smile on her face.

But she wasn’t sure how long his trip would take. Mycroft had to be careful who he talked to, because if it came out that he was beginning a relationship with the human boon giver and was collaborating with the Errant Prince? His life was in danger from more than just his sister.

The night before he was going to leave he was on her sofa and she was curled up in his embrace. They were watching a film, or rather she was. She was sure it made little sense to Mycroft, but it allowed them an excuse to be close so he relished it as much as she did. But she was getting tired and he was aiming to go at midnight. She wanted to stay awake to give him a proper send-off, but with crazy shifts and trying to track down Eurus, she was utterly exhausted. Sherlock had enough strength to protect her home with the wards in place for twenty-four hours, and she was going to use the time to rest and gather her strength.

Finally, the movie ended and he nudged her up. “I need to go,” he said softly. “I’ll be careful, and I will come back as soon as I possibly can.”

“I know,” she said, yawning before reaching up to touch his face. “I’ll rest and get as close to full strength as I can.”

“And you’ll keep my brother safe?”

“As long as he doesn’t drive me crazy in the process.”

Mycroft chuckled. “That’s always a possibility.” He caressed her cheek softly. “I know we haven’t kissed in days, but I would like one for good luck, I suppose.”

“As long as we don’t float again. I can’t stand heights.”

“If we do, I’ll keep you safe,” Mycroft said. “I’ll always keep you safe, I vow.”

She shivered. A fae vow was a powerful thing and not given lightly. Whatever she considered the seriousness of their relationship, he felt the same way. It was important to them both, she realized as she leaned in, and that would mean something from here on out.

Her lips touched his and almost without hesitation she melted into the kiss, losing herself in the sensations. Her eyes were shut and he leaned in, embracing her tightly. She felt the seat of the sofa disappear from under her but she didn’t care at the moment. It felt so heavenly to kiss him, even if it was a good-bye kiss.

When they pulled apart she could feel nothing under her for a moment and she kept her eyes shut, clinging to him, and then she felt the cushions underneath. She was loathed to let go but she knew he needed to go, but he surprised her by shifting his hold on her and picking her up, carrying her to bed. He managed with a bit of difficulty to pull the quilt back and set her down, then covered her up and kissed her forehead. “I’ll be back soon,” he said, and then there was a flutter and she could feel his presence was no longer in the room. But she was so tired she sank into a deep restorative sleep, the taste of his lips on hers as she slept.

[elizadoolittlethings]

my fanfic/mollcroft/the princess and the banker/ chapter 1 - the beginning of a journey

eliza doolittle

[Anglesey

- mycroft’s home

Island in Wales

Anglesey is an island in Wales, off the mainland's northwest coast. It's known for its beaches and ancient sites. The island is accessed by the 19th-century Menai Suspension Bridge and the Britannia Bridge, rebuilt in the 20th century. In the medieval town of Beaumaris, 13th-century Beaumaris Castle has concentric fortifications and a moat. ]

[Pembrokeshire

-molly’s home

Town in Wales

Pembrokeshire is a county in the southwest of Wales. It is bordered by Carmarthenshire to the east, Ceredigion to the northeast, and the sea everywhere else. The county is home to Pembrokeshire Coast National Park.]

[Snowdonia

-moriarty’s home

Mountain range in Wales

Mountainous 823-square-mile National Park, including remote villages, lakes and Snowdon peak.]

The Princess and The Banker

Chapter 1 - The Beginning of a Journey

Molly woke up to the nudge on her shoulder and the whisper in her ear - recognising the voice - “My Lady! Wake up. Wakeup! We’ve to leave!”

It was Mary, her maid , her guard, her childhood companion. Someone she, and her father trusted with their life.

Something was definitely wrong.

Silently Molly allowed Mary to bundle her into clothes of a man - shirt, trousers, boots, cloak. They took the secret stairs behind her wardrobe. It led to an underground passage and into the woods behind the castle.

A hackney was waiting for them. As Molly climbed into the back she heard Mary whispering to the man beside the horse. Slowly she recognised the silhouette - it was Sir John, second in command to Captain Lestrade, the King’s commanding officer.

She desperately wanted to ask them why he was not with her father, the King, protecting him! But knew she was expected to follow, not ask questions and cause a delay.

Although only 14 yrs old, Lady Molly Hooper was far more intelligent and capable than any of her friends. Not that she had any - friends! They treated her with respect for after all she is the Princess of Astoria, only daughter of King Edward Hooper. Even if most of them felt that she was not normal, with her obsession with taking care of injured animals, reading books on medicine and death! Death! She seemed fascinated by poisons and decomposition of the body. That was definitely not normal!

Molly’s thoughts of her life in the castle were turned to the movement of the hackney. Mary had joined her at the back, and they were off in a hurry. She was jolted from side to side but held on to the beam passing along the canvas roof. Her thoughts strayed to the castle, her father. She shut them down. Concentrated on the twists and turns of the path ahead.

The forest was her only friend, with Mary as her companion, while she explored - memorising plants from the hefty books that Mary carried in a small cart, as Molly searched for specimens to use in the small room her father had ordered set up for her. He loved his daughter, more when her mother passed away from a fever that had taken more lives in his kingdom than any battle. His loss though hidden was obvious to his quiet daughter. Molly was determined to find the cause for this ‘plague’ that had taken so many precious lives. And her father indulged her, much to the discomfort of his councillors - who thought that a Princess’ role was to be presentable in court, and make a good Queen when the time came.

Half-way through the journey Molly started losing the orientation of the path. They were heading deeper into the woods - farther than she had ever been. Slowly the rocking of their vehicle lulled her into a doze that she found hard to resist. She needed to remain alert, study the path, note the relevant pieces that would help her re-trace the way back to the castle. Not that she did not trust John or Mary. It had become a force of habit - memorising everything that fell in her field - of vision.

Not sure for how long she had slept, Molly heard the whispered arguments of her companions and decided to get out and see where they were. It was still dark, they were at the border of the woods, and all she could see ahead was fog. Her movement had alerted her guards and Mary came running to her “My Lady. Please remain inside. It is not yet safe for you to come into the open.”

Frustrated but practical, Molly nodded and sat inside, waiting for John and Mary to finish their discusion and continue with their journey. As she cuddled into the fur blanket that was spread out on the make-shift bed at the floor of the hackney, something hard touched her head. She leapt up, silently, and focussed her gaze on the object hidden under the fur. The outline was definitely familiar. It was her log-book : the one she carried with her wherever she went. All her work was detailed in it. As she slowly placed the bookon her lap the hackney shifted under the weight of Mary who climbed in to join her. They started moving again.

Mary watched her caress the book and smiled. It was the only personal item that she could collect given the circumstances. Yet, she knew Molly would prefer this to all the treasures her father had bestowed upon her over the years.

———~———

The slowing of the hackney woke her up. Molly watched Mary jump out and run ahead. She held the book close to her chest, seeking comfort for her racing heart.

John slowed the horse and got down, leading them closer to what looked like a barn.

He tied the horse to a pole and came to the back to help Molly get down. Seeing her questioning look John held a ffinger to his lips, watching Molly nod in understanding, and led her into the barn. Settling her in a corner with the blankets around, he signaled her to wait while he went out.

She was too tired to even think of the reasons for all this secretiveness. And too anxious to sleep. So all she could do was wait even if not patiently.

The sound of more than a pair of boots on the gravel outside made her crouch into the hay.

“Where is she? AAh. My lady, please allow me to escort you inside,” the voice was deep, touching her heart like a well sung sonata. Yet she did not dare peek at her interlocutor.

A strong hand with thin long fingers grasped her elbow firmly and fluidly pulled her up. As Molly rose up from between the hay she looked up to see a tall man with curly hair, strong chin, high cheek-bones, long neck, dressed in a tight shirt and breeches and boots. Her head reached only his chest. In the dark she couldn’t see his eyes. His breath was steady and he was watching her intently.

Trying to gather all information about the stranger, she did not register the other voices behind the man. Like a fog being displaced by the sun, her clouded mind cleared on hearing the slightly admonishing tone of Mary. She tried to look over the stranger’s shoulder but couldn’t budge.

“Well, you do want me to keep her safe, don’t you John?” he asked.

“Of course we bloody do, Sherlock! But, don’t frighten her into running away! That’s not very good now, is it?” John replied.

“Hmph. She doesn’t look like the running type.” “ Shall we, Princess?” saying so, the stranger Sherlock walked past them out of the barn.

“Don’t worry. He is a Good Man. You’ll be safe here, till John can bring more news from the castle” Mary assured her Lady.

“What happened? Is Father alright? When will I see him again?” Molly started babbling as she was led into a small single storied house by Mary, John following them. Sherlock was nowhere to be seen.

———~———

The front door was open. As they stepped in Molly could hear the faint sound of music- violin, behind the closed door to the left of what looked like the only room in the house - there was a fire-place, next to which stood what looked like a shelf that held kitchen utensils. This was at the far right of the rectangular room, where there was a window with a ledge that had books, writng paper, and some cushions. Right in front of the fire-place was large chair looking cozy with a rug and more books on the floor beside it. There was a large table in the middle of the room that was covered with pans and jars and more books.

Next to the door in the left corner of the room was a make-shify bed that looke more like a wooden board covered with a rug and a few blankets. There was a stand covered with books next to it. A candle was burning on the stand and there was a quill that was resting on a parchment paper.

Molly slowly realised that what was resting on top of the books was actually a skull, and, looked human! She had seen the remains of a baby in the forest, and Mary had mentioned that sometimes when a woman gave birth to a still-born, the father would bury the child in the forest, and not in the graveyard of the church. This was to let the spirit of the child be free to wander in the woods and not be bullied by the other ghosts.

Though Molly never belived her and knew that Mary was hiding something, the fact was she loved fantasies and this only fueled her imaginations.

As she slowly approached the skull the door opened with a bang and Sherlock moved in a flash to the pots and pans on the shelves.

“What would you like to have?Soup?”

John exchanged a glance with Mary. “I’ll worry about the food.”

Sherlock merely looked at him as if he was a disturbance and fell into the chair by the fire.

“Why don’t we get you settled, my Lady?” Mary asked Molly.

Molly looked at her not sure what she meant. She was led by Mary through the door to the stable right behind the house where on the floor was a trap door that she lifted to reveal stairs. A faint glow lit the stairs. Molly followed her companion down the stairs to a small room that had a bed, a shelf for clothes, a basin and a jug full of water, also a table with books and writing equipment.

The room had walls and floor that were covered in wooden beams - probably to keep the chill out. There were pipes running along the ceiling. Molly wondered what they were for.

“You’d best change into something more comfortable, my Lady.” Mary was already taking out a few clothes from a bag that sat on one of the shelves.

Molly walked over to her, held her trembling hand and slowly turned her to look directly into her eyes “Tell me. You know I would rather know the truth than avoid it. Please. In the name of our friendship, if you truly are devoted to the King, please!”

There was unshed tears in her eyes.

Molly was never one to interefere when she knew she was expected to remain silent. But this was about her father! Her Kingdom! She held on to Mary’s hand steadily.

Mary nodded and led her to the bed. She still carried the bag of clothes. “These are John’s. Will fit you, even if a little loose. Why don’t you change first. After I promise to tell you everything.”

Sighing, Molly rose to her feet and started shedding the clothes she had hastily worn earlier in the night. “What time do you think it is?” she asked in a whisper.

“Almost daylight” Mary answered as she helped her remove her petticoat.

Mary moved to a corner where a wooden board was covering what looked like the beginning of the pipe that ran along the roof. Removing the lid she placed the jug of water on the iron plate that was revealed. The water slowly started heating. Mary dipped a piece of cloth in the water and gave it to Molly who wiped herself. After ensuring that she was clean Mary took the jug, closed the iron plate with the wooden lid and washed the rag in the basin. After wiping Molly’s hair with the damp cloth, Mary helped her into the clean clothes.

“I’ll wash your petticoat and dry it. We’ll have to improvise since there is no spare.” Mary refused to maitain eye-contact. That was not a good sign.

Molly sat on the bed waiting for Mary to finally run out of excuses.

“Lord Magnussen was heard threatening the King by John. Not sure about the details. John approached Captain Gregory, who’d said that the King is in his debt and owes the Lord quite a large sum. Since he’s in good terms with King Moriarty, of Snowdonia, John feels  …” Mary paused, not sure if she should complete the thought.

“That Moriarty might attack? Like he captured Snowdonia?” Molly completed the sentence in her head, not realising that she had whispered it aloud. “But, Pembrokeshire is so far away! Unless he has the help of the neighbouring kingdoms …”

“Lord Magnussen has too many nobles in his debt. It’s not safe for you in the castle ‘till we are sure of his motives. Trust John. He’ll be off to the castle by now. W’may have to wait for a day or two. He’s promised to get back to us by then with any new developments. If it’s safe, we can return immediately.” Mary tried, her voice not convincing enough.

But Molly was a practical girl. She never was carried away by fanciful thoughts. “Let us go eat” saying so, she rose from the bed, determined not to give more trouble than she already had - which was inevitable, considering the fact that the fate of her Kingdom rested on her head. Mary may be doing her duty, but she knew that Mary was more like an elder sister to her. She was cared for deeply, and knew that Mary would give her life to protect her Lady.

———~———

As she entered the room, Molly realised that it was empty. Mary went over to the fire, where soup was simmering in a pot hanging from the hook over the fire-place. Carefully she laddled out a few spoons into a bowl, placed it on a table, took out a few slices of bread from a tin on the shelf near the window, and beckoned Molly to sit - by the window. Handing over the bowl of soup and bread, she filled a bowl for herself and sat beside Molly.

They ate in silence, Molly watching the faint traces of sunrise through the clouds that filled the sky, Mary keeping watch, expectantly.

Once they had finished, Mary gathered their bowls “I’ll wash up. Please rest for a few hours, my Lady.”

Molly was not sure if it was proper to occupy someone else’s bed without asking permission. “But, what about..?”

“Master Sherlock? He won’t be back till nightfall. Even then he’ll be using the cot here. The one below is a safe-place, to hide those… Why don’t you go rest. Best not know things which’ll cause trouble.”

Molly stared at her for a while. She knew there was more going on. But she had a way of observing and collecting facts when most people found it indistinct. Determined to be aware of whatever it was that was being hidden to protect her, Molly simply gave a brief nod and walked out the door to the stable trap - door.

———~———

As she tossed about restlessly, unable to sleep, Molly realised that she needed to go to the toilet, and not seeing any commode or chamber pot, sat on the bed wondering. Finally she decided to go upstairs and ask Mary, who had not joined her.

“How long have I been asleep?” she wondered aloud.

As she made her way out of the trap-door, she could hear Mary whispering. Not sure if she was allowed to be seen by others, Molly hid behind the door. The voices were faint. “…but you cannot take her back, and I cannot leave her here alone.” That was Mary.

“You have to come, or else he’ll be suspiscious.” That’s definitely John! Molly wondered how he was back so soon and that worried her.

Slowly she opened the door to make sure that there was no one other than John and Mary. They stopped whispering once they saw her at the door-way.

“Oh, my Lady, you’re awake?” Mary hesitated, unsure of Molly’s response.

“I, …”Molly beckoned her closer, and whispered in her ear when she got to her,”I need to use the chamber pot.”

“Oh! Yes, I forgot to mention! Come this way.’’ “John, could you make some coffee?”

“Mhm” John watched them closely, not moving. Mary gestured that they’ll be back soon and guided Molly out the door behind the barn and into the trees.

At first Molly thought there must be some room, then realised she was to go in the open! Of course she knew that only rich people had chamber pots and commode, but, …Well! There was a first for everything!

On the way Mary plucked a few leaves from a bush and as they entered a dense thicket gestured for her to go behind the bushes, thrusting the leaves into her hand.

When she was a child and played in the woods close to their castle accompanied by Mary and her nurse, Molly had occassionally been helped by the nurse, so it was not like she didn’t know how. Still, she worried someone may walk onto her and.. No use panicking, she thought. Mary was trained to protect her. She was safe.

Adjusting her clothes, on coming out of the thicket, she saw Mary, talking to a small boy not far off. On seeing Molly approaching, Mary gestured vehemently and sent him away. They walked in silence to the house.

John had made coffee and what smelt like stew was simmering in the pot above the fire. Molly sat on the cot next to the door and pretended to look at the books on the shelf.

Mary was whispering to John. Clearing his throat, “My Lady, ..”

The door opened with a thud “I am not to baby-sit a foolish girl who cannot take care of herself!” Sherlock barged into the room. “There are more important things to do! If she is staying here, she needs to be able to take care of herself. Or you can take her with you. I have no objection.”

Sighing, John handed a bowl of stew to Molly, who looked at him pleadingly. He gave her a reassuring smile and walked over to Sherlock who was standing near the window. He looked more like a five-year-old, than the tweny-year-old imperious Master who had greeted Molly earlier that day.

“You do know the situation is too dangerous.” John couldn’t help the tone of impatience creeping into his voice. “She is definitely capable of taking care of herself. We simply wanted you here before we left.”

“I’ll be back as soon as I can convince Lady Janine that there is nothing to worry. The princess is having a fever and needs rest. If I’m not there, we cannot say who will enter the chambers and ..”

“Lady Janine is not Lord Magnussen’s neice! Isn’t that obvious? He has sent some poor relation looking for a better life to do his dirty work! And you fell for it!! Grow a backbone and stand up to him. Or be cunning and divert his attention. Not go where he pushes you! That is his advantage. Preying on your fears, forcing you to take the easy way out. So predictable!”

“What d’you want us to do then? Let the woman wander around and talk to the maids. We might as well anounce our plans to the bloody kingdom!” John was shouting now.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes intently studying John’s face, puffed up with anger.

“Best get there as early as possible. No use delaying then, right?”

He turned to Molly who was almost crouching on the cot. “I need to use the downstairs room for a couple of hours. Unless you hear someone approaching, DO NOT come down.” His voice low and emphatic. With that Sherlock stalked off opening the door and shutting it with a bang.

Mary approached Molly who simply sat with her head bent down, unsure what to say. John held her back and shook his head. Gently sitting beside her on the cot, he held her hand and started softly, “Your father knows you are safe, my Lady. We’d be at ease if you’d stay here till it’s safe. Better that you don’t know the details… in case of..” John sighed and was about to get up.

Molly held on to his hand and in a voice that was too steady to be confident “I will do my best. You should try and reach the castle in time.” She looked at Mary, gave a wintry smile and nodded. Mary rushed to her, hugging tight, and  was out the door without looking back. John squuezed her hands, bowed, and followed Mary.

———~———

It was close to evening, Molly was curled up on the cot, not asleep, simply exhausted from all the frenzy. She knew that she had to get up, complete her evening toilette, before it got dark, and make supper - or something to not get tired from hunger.

The sound of approaching hooves alerted her reflexes. As she was on her way to the trap-door in the barn, she was met by Sherlock running towards her. He caught her in time and silently gestured for her to hide below.

Before she could make a move a soft clear voice alerted her attention “It will be best for The Princess to accompany me home, don’t you think so, Sherlock?!”

Molly clung to the back of Sherlock, hiding, hoping that he would protect her.

“If you say so, Mycroft!” Sherlock sneered.

Hearing the reply made her relinquish her hold. But as she tried to rush into the woods, strong slender fingers held her in place. She was trembling, unable to struggle free.

“Do we have time to discuss this?” Sherlock asked softly.

“Maybe while on the way.” was the reply from the new-comer, who seemed to be steering her towards a carriage - probably the one that ‘Mycroft’ had arrived in.

Sherlock was not moving, silently surveying the scene.

“Are you coming?” was the imperious command that made him move along with them.

“How long has Moriarty know about the new development?” Sherlock questioned the man whom he seemed to be familiar with.

“Hmph!” was the only response.

“I doubt this is your cleverest idea yet.” Sherlock seemed determined to irritate the man even though it was obvious that ‘Mycroft’ was the person in charge.

Molly never felt so small in her entire life.

Seated between two tall imposing men, she felt more like the child she was than the Princess she was meant to be. Having seen Sherlock with John, she felt closer to him even if their interactions were minimal. Also he was handsome! Until he opens his mouth, of course.

“I have left instructions for John. Still, maybe I should travel to Pembrokeshire, make sure of the situation before going on to Snowdonia. Better to get down near the highway. Take care of her. You owe John. Never forget.”

{sorry for the abrupt break. posting for @lilynevin :) }

[intpthinkinginquiet]

We'll Sweep out the Ashes in the morning

http://archiveofourown.org/works/10142627 Hello Tumblr! A one shot MollCroft - also on Ao3. We'll Sweep Out The Ashes In The Morning "There are some instances in time that are doomed to repeat themselves. They are etched into the sands so deeply that no matter what is done to avoid them they will happen; like the sun rising. Couples are like that. History has shown us that some people are as addictive as drugs and a relapse is inevitable." Present time It was early one afternoon when Mycroft and Sherlock were bickering in the lab over a body that had come in a few hours early while John tried to play referee, just as Molly’s phone rang. She fumbled with her pocket and apologised to no one in particular as she glanced at the screen, ‘Tom’ glowed and vibrated from the small device. She blushed a little and gave a small nod to John. “Don’t leave me.” He mouthed across the cadaver but she gave a polite ‘nothing I can do’ smile and beelined for her office. Molly held the phone tighter to her ear as she shut the door with her hip trying to block out the horrendous racket the supposed grown men were making. ���Sorry, try again -” She closed her eyes tight and focused on the voice coming from the phone rather than to the two in the morgue next door. “Hey Mol’, good day?” She final heard Tom ask cheerfully. She narrowed her eyes a little, ‘Did the racket next door sound like a definition of a good day?’ “….Erm, just a little busy, is everything alright?” “Oh, anything interesting?” He answered. Molly took a deep breath; he was being a good, caring husband, she should be happy to have found someone like him…. she repeated this to herself more times than was probably healthy. ‘It shouldn't irritate you that he's trying.’ “The usual really; dead bodies, PM’s and the Holmes brothers noise pollution.” Tom gave a chuckle on the other end of the line, “- Oh, erm, I think I’ll be finishing late again tonight, if Sherlock has a case on-” “Oh….okay,” This pause she knew well. It usually ended with a reluctant sigh and a cold shoulder when she got home at an ungodly hour, “well that's great because a few of the team were going out, I wasn’t going to go if you were home but...I guess we’ll be back around the same time?” Molly was the one to pause this time. This was new. But good. Definitely an improvement. “Great!” The door to Molly’s office opened after two brief knocks and Mycroft walked in, shutting the door to behind him. “Tom, I’ve got to go-” Mycroft stood close by watching her closely. Though Mycroft still carried the air of completely unruffled she could see the static practically leaping off of him from his mental spar with his little brother. “Ok Mol’s, see you tonight, I love-.” Molly’s heart ached in her chest as she hung off a little too quickly to give a reply. She blushed as she fidgeted getting her phone back into her lab pocket, avoiding Mycroft’s stare. “Its customary to return such declarations to ones ….’spouse’.” He practically growled, finally. Before she had chance to speak Mycroft had moved in on Molly and had her pressed up against the wall, his lips locked with hers. She didn’t need more than a second to respond, wrapping her arms around his neck, one hand left resting at the back of his head, their tongues searching each others mouths with Mycroft leading the possessive dance. It had been a three weeks since they had last been together and Molly found the guilt at the start of all this was quickly erased when Mycroft made a reappearance in her life, lab, office, his car, her flat. When he finally broke the kiss, she immediately rested her head against his chest taking in the sound of his pounding heart, bringing her arms around his waist. “How was the trip?” “‘Hmm.’” His hands gently caressed her cheek and his thumb brushed along her lip as they stood in the silence of her office. A soft sigh escaped one of them and then he composed himself and pulled away. Mycroft glanced down his nose at her, his expression still blank but not unfriendly and offered his hand. She knew what to do, placing her left hand in his. He eyed the ring resting on the commitment finger and slowly slide it off, sending a shiver of anticipation through her as he placed it in his blazer pocket and then exited the room. Molly watched him and bit her lip, tonight would be another one of their nights. She followed his lead and heard him say, “Miss Hooper was chatting to her beau. It would have been rude to interrupt.” John scoffed at Mycroft as she entered, “Her ‘husband’,” he corrected, “And since when have you cared about manners?” Mycroft didn't respond, only a raise of the eyebrow gave any sign he’d heard John at all. “Dear ol’ Tom checking up on you, Molly?” Sherlock sniped, “Probably for the best since your attention has been diverted, though you would expect after trapping someone in a marriage he’d feel less insecure. Though you do work closely with men you’re very fond of, even one you fancied yourself in love with-” Molly’s heart stopped,but Sherlock gave a cheshire grin and a quick wave of his hand. And it jump started again. All the time Sherlock was flicking through reports and files, opening drawers and examining the dead man on the table. “Though, it isn’t me who has your attention this time…” He stopped sharp and looked at Molly hard, frowning. He couldn’t quite place what he was seeing this time, his head was a flurry with the current case, but he knew he was onto something when her denial didn’t come but the blush along her chest and up her neck did. “If you’re quite done Brother mine,” Mycroft interrupted, sounding fedup, “One case at a time, hm? I’m sure Miss Hooper’s love life is a fascinating topic however there’s a serial killer to track.” He had collected his umbrella which had been resting against the table and was now casually leaning on it, a small tight smile on his face as he gestured to the body. John glanced between the other three with a look of pure confusion but disappeared quickly after Sherlock through the clattering doors without asking a single question. Molly let out a sigh and her shoulders sagged as the doors shut behind the soldier, Mycroft was still leaning on his umbrella glancing at his shoes completely nonchalant. She wished she had his bravado; inside her stomach was twisting and her heart was racing - that had been the closest they had ever come to being exposed. It had been around a year now and so far Sherlock, or anyone for that matter hadn’t figured them out. Molly said nothing as she fumbled through the other pocket of her lab coat and pulled out a box of cigarettes, saying nothing she held the packet towards the elder Holmes. He raised an eyebrow and paused, it must be getting too much if she was carry smokes around in the day. He’d only known her smoke when- well, she only smoked after taxing activities and the smokes were usually purloined from his tin from his trouser pocket. He slipped one out and placed it in his mouth and she lead them through the back door of the morgue and out into a small court yard, retrieving her lighter and offering it again to Mycroft. They stood in silence for a moment before Molly glanced around to make sure no cameras were trained on them, “Mycroft-” “It is fine, Miss Hooper.” He commented without looking over to her, “Sherlock is just acting wounded because you’re not pining over him nor are you his shadow anymore, he’ll get over it again.” “It been-” “One year, three months, two week, and fourteen hours.” He blew out the smoke. “I was going to say a while,” She laughed a little, “But, yes. Why has it taken him this long to notice?” “We’ve discussed this before - Sherlock only notices when it affects him. You’re no longer going that extra mile to help him and when that event occurs and he realises all over again and he...sulks.” Another drag on the cigarette. An affirmative noise came from Molly and she turned towards Mycroft as she dropped her cigarette butt to the ground, taking a step closer. He eyed her but didn’t move away and she leaned into him as almost a sideways hug. She stood there for a few moments and then, turning, she placed a hand on his blazer pocket, feeling her wedding ring through the fabric. He watched as her eyes became somber once more, “Mycroft…” “The last time.” He dropped his cigarette and looked down to her, “As always.” With that he placed his hand over hers giving it a small squeeze and removed it from his person. He’d send a text in a few hours and she’d know where to find him. ---------- One year, three months, two week, and fourteen hours ago “John go home, honestly, I’ve got him for a few hours - you need a break.” Molly hugged John tightly as his wet eyes struggled to stay open. Both of the friends were covered in grime and blood from excavating Sherlock from one of his hovels. John’s frame shook as Molly held him tighter. Sherlock, you’re going to get such a tongue lashing over this! She vowed as she stroked John’s back and squeezed him. “Come on, they’ll be a few taxi’s milling around down stairs, you’ll be home in no time and once you’ve had a few hours and a shower you can come back and we’ll swap, okay?” John nodded sharply and sniffed, his bulky frame moved quickly out the door. Molly’s smile faded and she sank in her chair as she cradled her head in her hands. For fuck sake Sherlock! How could you?! She moved back towards the bedroom and checked his heart rate and blood pressure once more. She rearranged the cushions and turned him slightly so he wouldn't get sore. She brushed a few hairs from his face, “You bastard…” She whispered, “You absolute sodding bastard…” A tear moved slowly down her cheek, “If you get through this I’ll kill you..” “I sincerely hope not. Especially after all the effort you’ve put into keeping him alive.” Came the voice from the doorway, Molly jumped around and within an instant had knocked several books from her bedside table and it landed with a loud gasp from the offender. “Really, Miss Hooper…” “You shouldn’t have made me jump,” She sniffed indignantly when she had realised it was Mycroft, “You’re lucky I don’t store a gun closer to hand.” Molly wrapped her arms around herself and perched on the edge of the bed. “You don’t need to search my flat, I was kidding…” Mycroft watched a moment but didn't pass a comment. “His vitals are steady, they could be better but for now steady is the new high score…” When Mycroft didn’t speak for the second time Molly began to ramble, “John should be back in a few hours… he needed a break. After finding him like this… John didn’t want to go but he did on the condition I’ll do the same afterwards. We can’t leave Sherlock just yet.. Just in case… Lord knows why he did it this time, John hasn’t a clue. Everything was fine, cases were a little slow but not… not enough for this…” She paused when she heard her phone vibrate. When she rolled her eyes, Mycroft finally spoke, “Avoiding someone Miss Hooper?” “What? No… No, not- that is, I was supposed to be meeting Tom tonight and he’s just checking up on me. Not in a jealous sort of way, just in a you’ve cancelled to take care of another guy sort of way. I wouldn’t blame him for having an issue with it- not really… But it’s never going to change, Tom knows I’ll always do everything for my friends….” Molly wished she’d stop talking but late nights/early mornings had taken their toll. She still didn’t answer the call though. “I’ll call him back later…” She muttered, placing the phone screen down on the bed. She covered her face with her hands once more and sat in silence. She must have fallen asleep for a moment because the next thing she knew Mycroft had said her name and was handing her a cup of coffee and she's suspected a tot of whiskey. Molly hesitated a moment, she wouldn’t normally drink while on duty but if the head nurse was supplying the beverage what's the worst that could happen? She took the cup and sipped it slowly confirming what she already knew. Feeling her muscles relax a little she sighed. “Drink up and then go take a shower.” Mycroft insisted, “He will be fine for half hour whereas you might not last the night.” She smiled and without a word knocked back the contents and made her way into the bathroom. Mycroft watched her retreating form and once he heard the bathroom door close he slouched down onto the bed. His eyes roaming over Sherlock, taking in each assessment and cataloguing it for comparison in an hour. Once that was done he removed his blazer and hung it on a peg on the back of the door and then loosened his tie. It was going to be a long night, may as well be comfortable. Mycroft leaned back in the chair which had been set next to the bed and crossed a long leg over the other, hands hanging over the ends of chair arms. He sat lost in thought for quite some time but once he came to he heard a choked sob coming from the bathroom; listening once more to confirm and yes, Molly Hooper, was indeed sat in the bathroom, alone, sobbing with the shower running. ‘Probably about Sherlock.’ Mycroft took a deep breath as though to shout from the bedroom to ensure she was okay but thought better of it and rose to make his way to her. His selfish younger brother certainly wasn't worth the tears - especially when the damage was self inflicted. He wrapped his knuckles on the door and waited but the crying didn't cease, “Miss Hooper?” Still no reply. “Doctor?” A heaved sob. No doubt with the water running she couldn't hear him. This stumped Mycroft for a few moments - should he just wander in? After knocking again he decided that maybe this may be more serious than just Sherlock's state and decided to just take the gamble. Slowly he pushed the door open and peered inside. The steam from the shower had clouded the room so he came in a little further. He found Molly sat on the corner of the tub, hair in a messy bun on top of her head and a towel wrapped around her, crying into her hands. “Miss Hooper?” He had pulled out a handkerchief and held it out to her. She took it and dabbed her eyes and wiped her nose, “I am so sorry Mycroft. You must think I'm ridiculous! Sobbing in the bathroom whilst it's your brother lying in there… it's just, it's nothing….” Oh to hell with it. “I just can't help but feel so bloody lost about Tom.” Tom...? Oh. Oh. Not Sherlock. Right. Not prepared for this. Mycroft shifted his weight from foot to foot slowly, frowning at Molly. So she continued. “He wants to get married - he's happy for it to be as soon as possible! And he wants to settle down and have children AND for me to stop being involved with Sherlock. Too dangerous he says.” Again Mycroft didn't speak and Molly continued still, “It's all so fast. I mean, we've not known each other long and he's already trying to discuss all this - moving into a house? A house away from Baker Street, away from this life style… I like Tom. I do. But..? I just don't know…. I know I'm not getting any younger ….but…? AND What if I don't find anyone else and-” The tears started again and Mycroft couldn't have been more uncomfortable. Here he stood in front of Sherlock's pathologist in an indecent state of dress on both sides, arguably her more so than him and found himself with no idea of how to handle this. He surprised himself when he finally he spoke, “Miss Hooper?” He stood in front of her. “What if, just for now, you aren't engaged and you just focus on the task at hand?” Molly looked confused so Mycroft held out his hand and gestured for hers. Whimsy had never been Mycroft forte but it seemed the way to go - if the world wanted to play ‘silly buggers’ then he may as well join in. A crease appeared in her brows but she placed her hand in his and stood to face him. She let him slowly twist her ring off and pop it in his shirt pocket. “There.” He held her hand still, staring at her fingers intensely for a moment before meeting her eyes. Molly felt her heart rate double as she studied his face. Slowly, he said, “Right now, none of those issues exist. You are just Molly Hooper. A single, attractive and independent woman.” Without thought Molly brought her mouth up to his and kissed him firmly. When he made no move to pull away she brought her other hand round to hold him. Within an instant his hands found her under her towel and had pressed against the bathroom door. Molly had made quick work of his belt buckle and the couple that weren't a couple at all became a single unit, and every concern and every question died on their lips as they spent themselves with each other. The come down was awkward for the briefest moment until it became evident both were happy to pretend it hadn't happened. That Mycroft hadn't claimed Molly in her bathroom while an unconscious Sherlock lay feet away. That Molly hadn't moaned Mycroft’s name and wished she didn't have a man waiting just a phone call away. And, after everything, the intimacy they shared left in the haze of the early morning cigarettes. It was only a week later though when Mycroft insisted they see one another and ‘clear the mess up’ by which he meant inform Molly that he intended for this to be a permanent fixture and that he had every intention of seeking her company out again. Molly snorted when he'd spoken to her in the little local coffee shop. But when he merely looked annoyed she cleared her throat, “Mycroft, you can't seriously think I'd - we'd - I mean…” She blushed and spluttered. “It was good- great even but Mycroft,” She raised her hand and wiggled her finger, “Tom?” Small micro movements in his eyes showed he was processing the next response but all it came out as after a few moments was a shrug of the shoulders. “I have no intention of stopping your engagement.” Again Molly laughed, but this time it continued until it turned bitter, “Oh well isn't that kind of you? Mycroft, you realise how ridiculous this is! Last time was a,” ‘mistake’ sprang to mind but she couldn't say it, “ - it shouldn't have happened. We were both exhausted, mostly emotionally with Sherlock and Mycroft I'm getting married soon.” Reluctantly, as logic is less dominant than loneliness. He sipped his tea and placed the cup down. Silence stayed between them for a long time before he finally asked, “Is that all you have to say on the matter?” Molly didn't answer right away, chewing her bottom lip thoughtfully, she couldn't believe they were really having this conversation and if it wasn't for Tom…. But… No. She had Tom. Was marrying Tom. “Yes, that's everything. I'm flattered Mycr-” He stood abruptly and looked down at her, “Excellent. You have yet to come up with a valid point to convince me this isn't to be continued.” He bent down and kissed her forehead. “I'll be in touch. Duty calls.” And with that he strode out of the shop leaving a very baffled Molly in his wake. When he arranged her kidnap it had been a few weeks later and she was less than impressed but once again she was swept away with the insistence of the suave elder Holmes. How simple, clean cut he made it sound for her to just admit she wanted to physically be with him, to say out loud just how much she enjoyed being ravished by him, to declare that this could last as long as he'd want her. Every time, once she was back home, she would take a shower and cover up any marks and hot wash her clothes before Tom could spot anything amiss. It's just sex. It's just sex. I wish it was just sex. I wish it wasn't just sex. Months later, and many meetings later, Molly hung her head between her legs as she sat on her squishy sofa, cradling it and squeezing her eyes shut. Her heart raced as she waiting for the inevitable knock on the door. She'd asked Mycroft around when he finished his latest meeting and decided it was time to talk. Actually talk. Not just sit while Mycroft lead her around in circles and then into bed. Molly's knew the affair with Mycroft was slowly becoming more and more integral to her life. She lived for each of their little moments, each text or brief call. Each impromptu meet up had her heart racing and soul screaming. The excitement of small looks shared over a corpse in the morgue were becoming too much to handle. She knew their steps: They met around once a week, the routine like clockwork A one ring phone call in the morning. A text around lunch. A black car at the end of her shift. And finally a location of his choice. Sometimes, just a handful of times if it had been over a week she'd find a black car idling on the curb outside, without warning, with Mycroft waiting inside. These unplanned meetings turned out to be his way of just touching base with her. A reassurance that she wasn't being forgotten - he was just busy. ‘Would a just sex set up go to such lengths?’ She'd often wondered. Every day that went by without a text from him felt like an eternity and Molly found it harder to deny the feelings she felt so she decided at the next meeting she’d tell him. Tell him just how important he'd become. How she couldn't spend time with Tom without wishing it was him. But most of all she'd tell him that she cared for him too much to do this any more and if this couldn't be all then it would be nothing. That's it. She'd finally said it. In her head at least. But it was one step closer to honesty. She scoffed, honesty? Who was she kidding? A love affair with Mycroft Holmes whilst planning her wedding with Tom - which she was willing to throw away if Mycroft would just say that's what he wanted- A knock at the door broke her thoughts and she smoothed her top and tucked her hair behind her ears. She hurried and turned the latch, giving a small smile as the tall gentleman let himself into the room. “Molly.” He greeted as he placed his briefcase down in the usual place and removed his coat and blazer. She closed the door and watched the routine unfold, clasping and unclasping her hands as she did so. He final noticed her hovering by the door. “Is everything alright, my dear?” He stepped closer and offered his hand. She, out of habit, placed her left hand in his and moved towards him but as he relaxed and went to remove the ring once more she spoke, “Mycroft,” He paused, “We need to talk.” He ran his thumb over her ring slowly, as though he suspected where this may be going. She saw his shoulders rise and he moved away to stand, hands in pockets, over by the bookcase. She gestured for him to take a seat though a small eyebrow raise declined the invitation. She wanted to move closer and hold him, try and coax the man back out from behind his shell. She knew the moment he held her though that the entire night would fall apart and into bed and she'd never tell him how she felt and this would never end. She took a deep breath, “We can't do this anymore - I can't do this anymore.” His eyebrows raised but his face kept impassive. “Molly,-” He made to come to her but she held out her hand to stop him. “Mycroft, please? Just listen.” She shuddered, “I know, you're fine with how things are. But… I just can't, i can't do this any more. I,” Her mouth dried out, “My wedding is next week- this, this all hurts too much. I care so deeply for you but you don't... you don't want…” ‘Me…’ she thought sorrowfully. “If you could say now that you want ‘us’ I'd call Tom, I'd tell him- I’d tell the man who is planning our wedding, picking children's names who wants me so purely that I couldn't do it. I'd give everything, right now. But I’d need to know you feel the same before I threw all that away. And I know….” She stopped when she saw Mycroft head towards to coat stand and gather his blazer and coat. “You deserve to be happy, Miss Hooper.” He kissed her cheek and left. She stared at the door for a long time before crawling into bed and sobbing herself into a fitful sleep. ------- The wedding went off without a hitch - even Sherlock behaved himself. Mr and Mrs Green fell into their lives as husband and wife like ducks to water. Mostly because nothing really changed - Molly's post looked odd for a few weeks while she got used to the sight of ‘Mrs M Green’ or just ‘Mrs Green’ but other than that, Tom didn't insist they move out of the flat just yet and she still worked at St Barts and Sherlock still snapped at her and thrashed around her morgue. The only major change was the lack of Mycroft. Something Molly felt deeply. When Tom worked late or Molly worked alone she allowed herself to think about him, and how it had played out. How he'd chosen to walkout rather than pursue a proper relationship. She'd even cry sometimes, especially if she'd heard about him that day. Or if he'd had to come in to claim a body, well, that was crippling. But they did it. With the utmost civil behavior and not a word out of place. She wanted to text him, just to make sure he was okay. Or double check the body was right - or maybe even ask why he hadn't wanted to be with her properly and left her when she wanted him most. But she knew that wasn't sensible or rational so she took to just opening his contact on her phone and closing it again. And opening it again, starting a new message. Then closing it again. Then assigning a silly picture to his number. Then removing it because she'd die if he ever found out. Then locking her phone. And then opening it again and then clicking - Oh shit! Molly panicked, it's bloody ringing. Hang up? It's too late now - he'll call back regardless and if she doesn't answer they'll be a swat team with her in seconds. She clears her throat as she hears him pick up. “Miss Hooper, is everything alright?” His tone seemed strained. How would it sound to seem indifferent but utterly panicked? She cleared her throat again, “Mycroft…” oh god… “Hi… busy?” He didn't respond straight away, she could hear he'd held his breath for a second and then, “Not at this moment. Is everything okay?” “Errm, yeah,” I'm just a world class idiot and dialed you by mistake and I'm too embarrassed to tell you, “I….” She sighed and paused. What felt like the longest few minutes passed with neither saying anything. “I'll be with you shortly.” The line cut off. And it began again. -------- Present time Molly felt her phone vibrate and scooped it out of her coat as she locked her office. Car outside - MH A smile took her by surprise. She hurried outside and climbed in. ------ They lay in bed, his arm around her as she traced patterns into his chest absentmindedly. His eyes were closed but she could feel his breathing change as he woke up. 10pm - He'd leave soon, Tom didn't usually stay out too late. “Mycroft?” A grunted ‘yes?’ came from his chest. “When we stopped, when we stopped ‘this’ before, did you miss it?” She practically whispered into his chest. She knew he'd heard her however because his breathing ceased for what felt like a long time. Then a long exhale. He turned his head and kissed hers, mumbling into her hair. “What?” “Hmm” Barely a whisper. “I never gave you reason to believe I wasn't happy with the arrangement. You ended it, my dear.” Molly frowned, “If you were happy why didn't you say? We spoke about it and you never-” She pushed up to stare at him. “No. Not at all.” He frowned back at her. “You called me here and told me you couldn't do this any more and listed all the reasons how Tom was the perfect partner. You'd said before you had no intention of calling off your engagement for our ‘engagement’. We never spoke about it. You told me what you wanted and I agreed to leave you to have it.” He looked sleep ruffled and adorable. And if he wasn't slashing through her illusions Molly would agree and thoroughly kiss him. “You said you were fine-” “No. I said you deserved to be happy. And you still do. And the way you spoke about Tom back then… well it was clear that he was the one making you happy…. Just like right now, I believe this,” He gestured to them, both naked and in her bed, “is making you happy? Good.” Molly felt her heart drop, ‘He just wants me to be happy…’ Mycroft watched as the cogs tightened and snapped inside her head. He brushed her hair behind her ears and continued, “When we spoke in the cafe all that time ago you made clear you didn't want anything more, and if physical intimacy was the only intimacy you were offering then I would have been a fool to not pursue it.” He kissed her gently. “Mycroft….” Tears sprang into her eyes, “I want you.” He kissed her more passionately. “I've been so stupid.” He leaned forward claiming her and pulled her on top of him once more. They both froze as they heard the key in the door. “Mol? You home?” The front door shut and foot steps could be heard entering the living room. What if he spotted the blazer?! With that Mycroft raised his finger to his lips, he reached across and swiped his phone off the side and with a few dexterous strokes had sent a message. They listened intently at what sounded like the kettle boiling and then a phone ringing. Hopefully he was a little tipsy or tired or horrendously ignorant and didn't notice the briefcase tucked down the side of the cabinet by the door or the blazer hanging with the random coats on the stand. “Hello? Oh you're kidding me?! Christ!.... fine. Fine. Yes. Give me five minutes.” More clattering and then the door slammed. Neither spoke for a while after. Still holding their breath in case he came back. Mycroft was the first to clear his throat and speak, “As lovely as this is,” He eyed her appreciatively, “It would be prudent to be in clothes next time he comes back - Anthea will have brought us twenty minutes.” She blushed furiously and smiled, carefully climbing off him and gathering up her clothes. Fifteen minutes later when Mycroft was showered and dressed immaculately once more he stood by her front door. “I want to see you soon.” He kissed her. She smiled brightly and wrapped her arms around his neck, “Are you sure? I mean, we never concluded-” “Molly, if the sporadic relationship we share is enough for you then I want everything. All of you.” He kissed her once more. “If this is what you want I will also endeavour to make more time for us.” Molly could feel her heart swell as she kissed him soundly, “Good night Mycroft. Next time you're free we can talk.” He smiled and dipped his head, walking out of Molly's flat phone in hand preparing to organise the removal of Tom Green from her life. No way was Mycroft Holmes waiting to claim what was now undeniably his.

[kalkopyryt]

Searching Sherlock Long Fanfiction

Dear Sherlollians,

Next week I’ll start my vacations, and probably I’ll be disconected for a lot of time. No signal in my cellphone. Tipically, I take a lot of books with me, but this year I want to read some really good Sherlock Fanfiction after S4 (and I have reduced space in my luggage). So what do you recommend?

:P I prefer to read Sherlolly, but if you another suggestions, I’ll be grateful (really, anything; no pairing, mythea, mollstrade, mollcroft, even JL).

Sorry for my english

and thank you very much!

[mousedetective]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Sherlock (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Molly Hooper Characters: Molly Hooper, Mycroft Holmes Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Royalty, POV Molly Hooper, POV Molly, Weddings, Dancing, First Dance, surprised Molly, Childhood Friends, Childhood Memories, Mycroft Holmes Has Feelings, Mycroft Has a Crush, Molly Has A Crush, Mentioned Irene Adler/Sherlock Holmes, Lonely Molly, Sad Molly, Happy Ending Series: Part 4 of A Thousand Different Lives Summary:

Molly returns to the estate where she grew up in time for her Lordship’s youngest son's wedding, and on the day of the event finds herself feeling plain and alone and unloveable. But not everyone sees her that way...

So this is another fic closer to my 800th Sherlock fic! The ship was picked out by @mollyhooperish, and I chose a prompt that has been sitting in my inbox since I got my 1,000th follower and started the series this is a part of from au-lives that asked for Wed!lock Mollcroft fic with the sentence "'You look beautiful.'” So here you go!

She had no idea why she'd let her mum talk her into coming to this wedding. Everyone looked so posh and glamorous, especially the lovely bride, dressed in a designer gown with gorgeous jewelry and a radiant smile. Molly looked down at the simple lavender dress she wore, with the scalloped lace edging at the bottom and the single strand of pearls around her next and the lavender high heeled Mary Janes she wore. She felt so plain and so...dull.

Her mum came over and nudged her with her elbow. “Go mingle, dear. It’s not every often you get an invitation to his Lordship’s wedding.”

Molly nodding before her mother scuttled off. She’d been the personal assistant to Lady Holmes for her entire life, and she’d grown up with both the Holmes brothers until she’d gone off to uni. She hadn’t come back home often, and hadn’t caught a glimpse of either of them when she was there. Oh, she’d heard stories; Mycroft was a member of Parliament, making a name for himself there, and Sherlock was a bit of a wild canon, a brilliant man passing the time as a private investigator of some sort but doing so for those who only had “interesting” cases and occasionally consulting for the Yard. She, herself, had gone abroad, gone to the States, and worked for a coroner’s office in New York. It wasn’t exactly the type of profession brought up in polite company, but it was interesting work and she enjoyed it.

And then she’d gotten the email from her mum that her father was ill and he needed care, and she’d dropped everything and rushed home, only to find herself smack dab in the middle of wedding preparations. Sherlock Holmes was settling down with the rather infamous Irene Adler. She had no clue the hows or whys of their relationship, but they seemed happy and, when she saw them alone together, genuinely in love. She wished them nothing but the best. But seeing them reminded her that she was nothing but alone in this world when it came to the field of romance.

She picked up a glass of champagne from a passing tray and took a sip. Oh, it was the good stuff. She should have known the Holmes’s would spare no expense. She was about to take a second sip when she heard a throat clear behind her. She turned quickly, her hair fanning out behind her slightly, and found herself looking up at a familiar figure with wide eyes. “Molly,” she heard Mycroft say quietly.

She felt herself warm at the cheeks slightly, not sure if it was the champagne or the nickname. Aside from her parents, Mycroft had been the only other person to call her Molly. She was Margaret to everyone else. She gave him a warm smile. “Mycroft. You look quite well.”

“You look beautiful,” he said, and she felt the warmth spread from the apples of her cheeks, a little further. To be honest, while Sherlock was the more classically handsome of the two brothers, she had always rather preferred Mycroft, both in looks and company. He always made time for her, always listened to her, and even though he was not classically handsome, there was an attractiveness to his features she had found that she thought of even as years passed.

Maybe he had done the same?

“Thank you,” she said, ducking her head slightly.

“Perhaps I could have a dance?” he asked, gesturing to the floor of the ballroom, where there were couples moving along the floor to a rather slow paced song.

“You want to dance? With me?” she asked, more surprised than she had realized she would be. There had to be any number of women wanting to go after him. Yes, Sherlock was off the market, but he was the second son. He wasn’t going to inherit the title or the estate. That was all going to go to Mycroft anyway. Why wasn’t he fending women off with a stick?

Why did he want to dance with her?

“I have wanted to since I was nineteen years old, and you were outside on the terrace during an event that my parents were having that you had been allowed to attend,” he said. “You had on a cream dress that my mother had let you borrow, and your hair was up in a bun, but a few tendrils had escaped at the nape of your neck. You were swaying in time to the music and I had thought to ask but my brother came out and enticed you to come back inside.”

Her mouth formed a small O shape as she searched back to that night. She had to have been young. Fifteen, perhaps? There wasn’t much difference age wise between them, though he looked older. She was older than Sherlock, after all. And oh, she was had been at just the right age then that she would have let him sweep her into his arms and dance the night away with her, heedless f the rest of the world. Their lives might have been very different then. Maybe better, maybe worse.

But now...today they could have their dance they should have had all those years ago.

She set her glass of champagne on a nearby table and then set her hand on his arm. “I would love to have a dance with you, Mycroft,” she said, giving him the warmest smile she could, and for a moment she got a look of surprise that she knew must have rivaled her own only moments before, but then it melted away, becoming a look of utter satisfaction as he led her to the floor. He set his hands on her waist as she stepped closer, wrapping his arms around his neck, and when they began to move in time with the music she felt a sense of rightness.

Perhaps going home hadn’t been a bad decision after all...

Please leave comments & kudos @ AO3!

[wetislandinthenorthatlantic]

Today’s question is: Any fandom tropes you can’t stand?

@onegirlandherpen I thought this was such an innocent question then I did a Google search on fandom tropes. Before that search I thought I knew what what all the troups are .... my goodness how I was wrong! And I must now admit my list of fics to write has now grown exponentially! 

All right, once again keeping in mind my Mollcroft focus these are the troupes that I don’t think really suit this ship:

1. Tentaclefic -- umm. Yea. Mycroft with tentacles would just be too creepy.

2. Prison AU -- No way I’m putting Mycroft in an orange jumpsuit

3. Hooker AU -- I have just read a stunning Mycroft/Hooker fic but I just can’t see Molly as a sex worker.

4. Tattoo Parlor AU -- I’m not big into tattoos so this  doesn’t really appeal to me.

[elizasmarkgatissblog]

A MOLLCROFT CHRISTMAS

Previously: Molly meets Mycroft at the entrance to 221 B on Christmas Eve. They join in the festivities separately, each in their own world. {x}

Mycroft stood beside the open front door waiting for Molly to step out.  Greg right behind her.

“May I give either of you a lift?” he asked plainly while donning his gloves.

“I came by car,” Greg replied his face mirroring Mycroft’s blank stare.

“And you Miss Hooper?” Mycroft insisted as he observed Molly adjust her scarf.

Molly awkwardly waited for the door to be opened. She stepped out carefully, turned to wish the driver and moved towards her apartment when losing balance in the snow fell forward face down.

Mycroft’s driver rushed to help but was beaten to the task by the Ice Man himself,  who, ordering the driver to get the keys to the apartment from her handbag lying on the pavement, scooped her up like a feather and carried her up the steps.

Molly was in a daze. She heard a murmur in her ear but didn’t respond. Feeling herself descend she squirmed uneasily. Clenching her fingers to make a fist she felt her coat buttons and opened her eyes to see Mycroft standing beside her in her living room speaking into his phone. Looking around she realised that she was lying on her sofa.

Struggling to rise, she felt a pressure on her shoulder and saw Mycroft’s fingers gently hold her down.

She closed her eyes, out of breath from the emotional turmoil and as her breathing slowed she heard him say, “Yes, it would be best if you came over and took a look.”

Listening for a few seconds he cut the call and she heard his coat rustle and then the squeaking of her wooden chair. Shifting to her right she opened her eyes and watched the ice man, lips sealed tight, degloved hands resting on wooden arms legs crossed at the knees.

“It was only a fall. You didn’t have to call John,” she spoke in a whisper.

Raising his eyebrows in surprise the Ice Man licked his lips slowly, sat back and resting his elbows on the armrest steepled his fingers.

Hearing no response she shifted more to see him clearly and asked, “Sherlock told you didn’t he?”

“No. I suppose you deduced,” Molly grumbled as she snuggled into her coat and wiggled her sock covered toes.

Raising her head she looked down at her feet and searched the floor for her shoes. Looking askance she saw them placed neatly in the corner next to the front door.

Wiggling her toes she dug her feet deeper into the cushions and closed her eyes.

 A few minutes of silence passed when she felt a warmth and looked up. Mycroft was covering her in/with a quilt - the one from her bedroom, she thought as she chewed her lower lip.

She watched him walk over to her kitchen balancing herself on her elbow. Sitting up she removed her scarf and coat hung them over the back of the sofa and looked at him as he busied himself making tea. / cutting a lime.

“I told John that you are fine since that’s what you want. But I’d rather you fix an appointment with your gynae at the earliest.” Mycroft spoke mechanically while rolling his sleeves up and then slowly rolled the lime on the counter with his palm.

“I’m not that fragile,” Molly pouted as she spoke resting her cheek on the hand that was on the back of the sofa, eyes following Mycroft's movements as he arranged two cups and tea bags and a bowl of sugar.

“Maybe not. Better to be on the safe side,” Mycroft insisted as he put out the flame and let the boiled water in the kettle cool.

“What do you care?” Molly muttered and then jumped on hearing a clang.

Mycroft stood at the kitchen counter face red as a beet. The kettle placed next to his palm that was clenched into a fist pressing hard on the counter.

Sighing Molly rose and walked towards the kitchen.

“I appreciate your concern,” she spoke softly placing her hand over Mycroft's fist.

“Do you?” Mycroft’s sarcastic tone made her withdraw her hand and resting her hip on the edge of the counter she looked down while her fingers ran over the edge of the granite.

[afteriwake]

A Boon For You, A Boon For Me (A “The Plans Of Fae And Molly” Story - 1/?)

I just started updating this one again! Yay! As I’m planning to finish it for WIPBB, I’m reposting the earlier chapters to refresh everyone’s memories, so here’s chapter one of yet another fae AU, this time a Mollcroft one! I decided to make it into a series to shorten how much I need to tell in this story, but also because I have ideas for stuff after they fix the main problem in this series.

A Boon For You, A Boon For Me - When Molly saves the life of a fairy prince, she’s given the chance to ask for whatever her heart most desires, and since what she wants to do most is help others, she’s given the ability to grant boons by the prince’s eldest brother. Little does she imagine such a simple and generous wish will change her life forever...

READ CHAPTER 1 | SERIES PAGE | HELP ME SURVIVE? | COMMISSION ME? | BUY ME A KOFI? | MY PATREON

He was not quite what she expected a fairy to be. Well, perhaps she did, as he looked similar to the bureaucratic ones in The Fairly Oddparents, she realized, taking in the suit and die and very well-shined shoes. But they weren’t fairies, were they? It really had been a long time since she’d caught that series.

“Miss?”

He spoke, and she had to admit, he didn’t sound monotone like the animated creatures did. Bored, yes, but not nasally or just...flat. There was warmth in his voice and it was nice and deep. Almost soothing? That was a delightful surprise.

But he’d asked her a question before she went off into the train of thought on the child’s cartoon and really, it was polite to answer questions promptly.

“What would you recommend I take as a boon?” she asked, curious.

He blinked, as though no one had ever asked his opinion before. And perhaps it was the novelty of the question that caused his reply. “A million wishes.”

“Can you do that?” she asked.

“No. But I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to try. I could go up the chain of command and ask, at least. You have done a great service rescuing our prince.”

She turned and looked at the curly black haired fairy currently pouting off to the side. She had no idea how she had known he was one of the Fair Folk, but she had spirited him out of the A&E while he was in his state and smuggled him to her flat near the hospital. At least he had come out of his delirious state long enough to tell her how to contact someone to collect him. Otherwise, she may have had an unwanted flatmate. The curly haired man had such an attitude.

Eventually, she turned back to the older fairy, if older was a term that could be used. “Perhaps I could grant boons?”

If her first question had surprised him, this one caused his eyebrows to disappear right into his hairline. “You want to grant boons?”

“Well, not all of them, obviously, or I’d intrude too much into your territory, but...maybe little ones? Like giving blessings to newborns?”

He tilted his head and shut his eyes, as though he was listening to a faraway conversation. When he straightened his head and opened his eyes again, he was frowning. “I’m afraid that’s not possible.”

“Oh,” she said.

“You have to grant all the boons, no matter how large they are.”

Her eyes widened as she looked at him. She could have this wish? She could do some good in the world after all? Oh, that was a lovely thought. She smiled at him. “Then I’ll take this boon,” she said.

“Very well,” he said with a nod. He lifted up his umbrella and then tapped the end on top of her head very lightly. She felt a curious warm tingling spread through her from the top of her head to the tips of her fingers and the soles of her feet. Eventually, the warmth faded but the tingling stayed. “I have been told to help train you in your newfound gift.”

“Oh! Oh, very well,” she said. “So I’ll see you again?”

“Yes, you will,” he said. “Miss…?”

“Hooper,” she said. “But you can call me Molly.”

“Very well,” he said, pursing his lips together. “I suppose you can call me Mycroft.”

“Then I hope to see you again soon, Mycroft,” she said with a smile. He nodded in return and then went to the faerie prince and cuffed the back of his head before hauling him up to his feet and then wings coming out from behind his back. The wings were not drab in the slightest, with a beautiful pattern on them, though they were in a shade of gray so close to white she was surprised she could see the patterns. Then, as she watched, he and the faerie prince shrunk in size to mere specks of light and then went out the open window into the night. She raced to the window, searching for any sign of them, but all she saw were stars in the sky.

Ah well. At least Mycroft would be back. She was very pleased with the idea of seeing him again...

[elizadoolittlethings]

my fanfiction/mollcroft/the princess and the banker/Chapter 2 - The Journey of The Heart(s) - Part 1.

Molly knew she was dreaming. Yet, she could not wake herself up. She also knew that though she did not want to, she should! Something about the dream felt too unreal, touching her heart in a way that she had never experienced.

Her experiences of comfort, safety and love were limited to the early years, when she was cuddled by her mother. Her father, the King, though kind, was unable to show affection openly. Like all men, he imagined that gifts said more of his love than words or physical contact.  

Molly was never one to complain. Seeing so many children in her father’s kingdom suffer from parental loss, poverty, man-handling, and more, she felt privileged to have been born in a castle. This early enlightenment made her a down-to-earth deeply practical girl.

A Princess was always expected to behave responsibly, and her nurse had taught her that. She had inherited her father’s wisdom and her mother’s patience. Although at times her own impulsive nature came out at odd moments surprising her interlocutors into stunned silence.

Too many thoughts rushing through her dreamy state roused her into awareness of her surroundings.

The coat was soft and warm, covering her slender shoulders and delicate neck. Tucked around her neck and under her chin was a wollen scarf, smelling of eucalyptus and clove, and a unique smell that she was unfamiliar with. As she moved the coat slipped down her chest. Reaching out to grab the falling garment her hands gripped the slender fingers of her co-passenger. Not realising that she was still gripping onto his hand, Molly held the coat tightly as if her life depended on it.

“If you would release me I can put the coat over your shoulders. The ride to Anglesey is long and since we cannot afford to delay by taking rest, it will be better if you make yourself comfortable. The night air will be chilly.” Mycroft’s soft voice was haunting, like a lullaby. She acquiesced and let go of her hold feeling a loss that she did not feel so deeply the previous day on leaving the castle. Unable to process the emotion Molly allowed herself to be bundled up by the stranger who was becoming something more than any man in her life was - the few being her father, John, Gregory and the stable boy Tim.

Now there was something to ponder. What did she see in the boy? He smiled a lot, at her, whenever he saddled her for ride.

“Hmm..” Molly suggled into the coat and settled herself back. The carriage was moving at a fast pace and she could not maintain her posture, for she kept sliding one way or the other. Mycroft moved closer, propped her up on one side of the seat, while he formed a physical barrier on her right. Thus settled, Molly slowly drifted asleep.

———~———  

The wind in her hair was familiar. Molly loved to ride along the woods of her castle. Mary always accompanied her. As she rode faster, her bonnet bounced to her back the tie of the ribbon forming a bow under her chin. Strands of her hair flew out of the knot that Mary had carefully coiffed.

Her father had rode with her when she was only six years old and she loved the freedom it gave. Those memories were the closest she had of a hug from her father. She could still feel the warmth. Relishing in the safety of the contact Molly turned her head to watch her father’s face as they rode towards the woods. The face was not clear. Frowning, Molly tried to clear her eyes with her hands. It was not her father. She tried to touch his face to confirm. His moustache was always big and she loved to touch it.

There was no moustache. Or was there? The skin felt smoother, the hair softer, shorter, and she breathed in. Not her father’s scent - which was of tobacco and wine and a strong odour of .. maleness. This was …

“Ahem.” The clearing of the throat woke her up. As she opened her eyes, Molly realised she was caressing Mycroft’s face. Startled, she tried to jump back but hit her head on the back of the seat and stumbled forward as the carriage continued to lurch.

Molly sat up, smoothed her dress and avoided her companions eyes. It was too embarassing to even apologise.

“Would you like some bread and wine? That is all I can provide for now. Until we reach my home.” Mycroft was bending down to retrieve a basket from under the oppposite seat.

Molly nodded her head, realised that he could not see her, so weakly replied “Yes”.

As they shared the bread and wine in silence, outside it was growing dark and there was a gentle sound of raindrops on the carriage roof.

The sound of rain soothed her nerves. “How far is it to ..”

“Anglesey. About 40 miles more. We will reach there by early morning.” Mycroft had not had the chance to plan this through. The sudden knowledge of the situation in Pembrokeshire, followed by the move by Moriarty, and Irene being sent to discover Molly’s whereabouts, not to mention Janine prowling the castle! There was only so much John and Mary could do. He had to act quickly if disaster was to be averted.

Taking a carriage to the outskirts of Pembrokeshire, Sherlock’s hideout - where he liked to act the Prince of Thieves, helping orphans and homeless people escaping Magnussen, was not the brightest of ideas that Mycroft had. Still, in such short notice it was the best. They will have to change horses at the next inn, and ride on without delay. Moriarty had spies all over the land. It was safer to act ordinary, with no entourage or security men flanking them. More staff would only attract attention.

And now he had a huge responsibility on his hands. The girl seemed level-headed, even though impressionable, from the way she held on to Sherlock. Not that anyone could blame her. Sherlock had that effect on girls, princesses, women. Mycroft could not fault him for his good looks. Smirking at the thought of Sherlock turning tail and running if he knew the effect he had had on Molly, Mycroft schooled his features as he became aware of the cautious glances that were being bestowed upon him.

The Princess seemed quite sharp and observant. He would have to be more careful in the future. Must be guarded at all times. “Would you like more bread? Or perhaps some wine?” Trying to divert her attention from him, Mycroft reached into the basket.

“Nmhmm. No. I would rather have some water, if I may.” Molly was unsure of the fleeting changes on her companion’s face. Was he worried about their journey? Or maybe he was reluctant to take up such a huge responsibility. Could it be that he was offended by her unconscious act? That was not intentional. If she apologises ..

“There is only one bottle. We will be stopping soon for changing horses. I will try and procure some then.” Mycroft gave her the bottle.

She looked at him and then at the bottle, not sure what to do. He tilted his head, raised an eyebrow and glanced at the bottle and then at her.

It struck her that since there were no glasses she was expected to drink directly from the bottle. Of course she had seen men in the stables and out in the fields drink directly from a bottle. Being trained to ‘act properly’, she had never had to before. Smiling shyly, Molly accepted the bottle. Mycroft discreetly busied himself with shoving the basket back to where it was - under the seat opposite.

As he sat back, Mycroft realised that she was waiting for him. “I’ve had too much wine. Best not to burden my stomach.” He gave her a reluctant smile and re-arranging his jacket looked out the window.

———~———

Molly woke to the gentle prying of fingers. She had fallen asleep clutching the bottle of water between her fingers. “We have reached the inn. Please stay inside and try to be silent. I will be back shortly, with something to eat and more water.” Mycroft’s warning tone did not go unattended by her. Considering the fact that there would be people sent in search of her, Molly nodded and moved into the shadows of the carriage, where her petite figure was well hidden.

Mycroft wore his hat that was lying on the seat and moved towards the carriage door where his footman waited. “Please be careful.” Molly whispered. There were few things that had ever struck Mycroft speechless. Always prepared for a sarcastic retort, this endearment caught him by surprise. He simply nodded and rushed out of the carriage, unable to withstand the onslaught of emotions that seemed to smother him.

———~———~———~———~———~———~———~———~———~———~———

{Chapter 1 - the beginning of a journey - x ]

[afteriwake]

A Boon For You, A Boon For Me (1 - 2/?)

So I just realized I had never put the first chapter on this journal, so this is the two chapters I’ve finished so far in one post, and then new ones will go up as I write them. Hopefully this will please all the Mollcroft fans out there (especially @strangelock221b).

A Boon For You, A Boon For Me - When Molly saves the life of a fairy prince, she’s given the chance to ask for whatever her heart most desires, and since what she wants to do most is help others, she’s given the ability to grant boons by the prince’s eldest brother. Little does she imagine such a simple and generous wish will change her life forever...

Read Chapter 1 | Read Chapter 2 | Help Me Survive? | Commission Me?

He was not quite what she expected a fairy to be. Well, perhaps she did, as he looked similar to the bureaucratic ones in The Fairly Oddparents, she realized, taking in the suit and die and very well-shined shoes. But they weren’t fairies, were they? It really had been a long time since she’d caught that series.

“Miss?”

He spoke, and she had to admit, he didn’t sound monotone like the animated creatures did. Bored, yes, but not nasally or just...flat. There was warmth in his voice and it was nice and deep. Almost soothing? That was a delightful surprise.

But he’d asked her a question before she went off into the train of thought on the child’s cartoon and really, it was polite to answer questions promptly.

“What would you recommend I take as a boon?” she asked, curious.

He blinked, as though no one had ever asked his opinion before. And perhaps it was the novelty of the question that caused his reply. “A million wishes.”

“Can you do that?” she asked.

“No. But I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to try. I could go up the chain of command and ask, at least. You have done a great service rescuing our prince.”

She turned and looked at the curly black haired fairy currently pouting off to the side. She had no idea how she had known he was one of the Fair Folk, but she had spirited him out of the A&E while he was in his state and smuggled him to her flat near the hospital. At least he had come out of his delirious state long enough to tell her how to contact someone to collect him. Otherwise, she may have had an unwanted flatmate. The curly haired man had such an attitude.

Eventually, she turned back to the older fairy, if older was a term that could be used. “Perhaps I could grant boons?”

If her first question had surprised him, this one caused his eyebrows to disappear right into his hairline. “You want to grant boons?”

“Well, not all of them, obviously, or I’d intrude too much into your territory, but...maybe little ones? Like giving blessings to newborns?”

He tilted his head and shut his eyes, as though he was listening to a faraway conversation. When he straightened his head and opened his eyes again, he was frowning. “I’m afraid that’s not possible.”

“Oh,” she said.

“You have to grant all the boons, no matter how large they are.”

Her eyes widened as she looked at him. She could have this wish? She could do some good in the world after all? Oh, that was a lovely thought. She smiled at him. “Then I’ll take this boon,” she said.

“Very well,” he said with a nod. He lifted up his umbrella and then tapped the end on top of her head very lightly. She felt a curious warm tingling spread through her from the top of her head to the tips of her fingers and the soles of her feet. Eventually, the warmth faded but the tingling stayed. “I have been told to help train you in your newfound gift.”

“Oh! Oh, very well,” she said. “So I’ll see you again?”

“Yes, you will,” he said. “Miss…?”

“Hooper,” she said. “But you can call me Molly.”

“Very well,” he said, pursing his lips together. “I suppose you can call me Mycroft.”

“Then I hope to see you again soon, Mycroft,” she said with a smile. He nodded in return and then went to the faerie prince and cuffed the back of his head before hauling him up to his feet and then wings coming out from behind his back. The wings were not drab in the slightest, with a beautiful pattern on them, though they were in a shade of gray so close to white she was surprised she could see the patterns. Then, as she watched, he and the faerie prince shrunk in size to mere specks of light and then went out the open window into the night. She raced to the window, searching for any sign of them, but all she saw were stars in the sky.

Ah well. At least Mycroft would be back. She was very pleased with the idea of seeing him again...

Five Years Later

“Dr. Hooper!”

Molly whirled around and looked at the nurse heading her way. “Yes?”

“Your...friend...is at the A&E asking for you again.”

Molly grinned and shook her head. The way he’d said “friend” made her think that there were quite a few people at the hospital who thought Mycroft was her boyfriend and not her mentor. She’d say he was her friend; he would say nothing of the sort, even though she knew he was fond of her. He had been fond of her for the last five years and not once admitted it, but she knew. “I’ll be there in a moment,” she replied, lifting the stethoscope off from around her neck and stuffing it into her pocket, fingering her wand as she did.

They had decided long ago that yes, she would need a wand and no, it could not be a regular wand. Obviously, there was the fact she was not fae, and no one in Mycroft’s realm had been sure if they could even make a wand that would work for a human, albeit Molly was a human who could grant boons. Once they had found something that worked for her, there was the matter of finding an inconspicuous way to keep it on her person. In the end, she had a silver tongue depressor with camouflaging magic on it so that it could only be seen as silver when it was about to be used. Otherwise, it looked like one of the cheap wooden ones.

She made her way to the A&E and saw Mycroft in his normal suit…

...and an unconscious Sherlock next to him on the seat.

“Bloody hell,” she muttered under her breath as she made her way to Mycroft. “What happened to him?”

“We have no idea,” Mycroft said, a tinge of worry in his voice. “I found him here on the streets after a nearly fruitless search of our realm and the area outside of London. Whatever has its hooks into him, they are in deep.”

Molly nodded and then checked the watch on her wrist. It was one of the few pieces of fae jewelry she’d chosen to accept in thanks of rescuing the Prince; it was platinum and had semi-precious stones on the watch face and in most instances ran like a normal watch, but a tap of her wand to it and she could learn anything she needed about whatever she was to involve herself, the knob on her watch acting as a scrollbar of sorts. It was one-of-a-kind even among the fae and it had been charmed to never be taken off her wrist and to survive anything thrown at it.

She knew the lobby of an A&E was no place to use it to see just what the wayward Prince had gotten into this time, so she went to one side of Sherlock and Mycroft stooped down, and between them they hoisted him to his feet and carried him out to the car lot where the employees parked. Molly shoved him into the backseat and then looked at Mycroft. “I have to go sign out and leave a few instructions, but we can take him to my flat and figure out what to do next.”

“Thank you,” Mycroft said gratefully. He went to the passenger side and let himself in, using his wand to unlock her door, and she shoved her hands into the pockets of her scrubs and went back inside the hospital.

Somehow, along with fulfilling boons every so often when the regular fairy godparents got overwhelmed or granting dying requests on her own for those who left her A&E through the morgue, she became Sherlock’s keeper. She had no idea how that task had fallen to her but she was well compensated by the fae of Sherlock and Mycroft’s realm when she got him out of scrapes. It helped she was good friends with a few of the policemen and policewomen who occasionally had reason to come to her hospital. But sooner or later his good luck was going to wear off, and she and Mycroft both knew it.

Maybe this was the start. It had been five years since she’d found him in the drugged stupor and he’d managed to stay as sober as a fae could in that time. Maybe this was a relapse? Hopefully not, but she had no idea how to enact a twelve step program for the fae.

She got back inside and finished up her rounds as quickly as she could, pausing to work some magic to make a daughter get the urge to call her mum before the mum went into a risky surgery. There was always the chance the woman would live, but if she didn’t, at least there would be a chance for the two to have a proper goodbye, hopefully. Not all of her boons worked out the way she expected them to, but she was still learning.

She didn’t bother to change out of her scrubs, black ones with Sylvester chasing Tweety across them, and all she did was grab her handbag, fish out her keys and let her hair out of its ponytail briefly to redo it into a tight bun. She had the feeling there wouldn’t be the chance to do much more than grab a quick shower before crashing into bed and she wasn’t in the mood to have her hair keep brushing the back of her neck.

When she got to the car she found Mycroft looking at it in wonder, and then it hit her. He hadn’t been able to get near her old car because it was cold iron, but this one was made of some metal alloy that she had made sure had no trace of iron in it whatsoever. She was sure it had sounded weird but she couldn’t keep calling cabs to haul Sherlock all over the place. “Would you like to take it for a spin?” she asked Mycroft with a smile.

“Er...no, thank you,” he said. “I want to make sure Sherlock is settled and then we can talk.”

Her smile lowered in intensity and shape until it was a frown. “Mycroft, how long is he going to be staying with me this time?”

“Indefinitely,” he said. “And he’s not the only one.”

“I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on,” she said, turning to face him.

“Our father is ill. There’s a belief he’s been poisoned by something in your realm. Some suspect Sherlock himself may have poisoned him since he spends so much time in the human realm. He was banished from court on suspicion of attempted murder. And our mother bade me to keep watch on him and to find the cause of what happened to our father. So...”

Molly sighed and then turned and started the car. “Good thing I have things your brother likes to eat from your realm,” she said. “I just need more if you’re staying too.”

“That can be arranged,” Mycroft said with a nod. “Thank you, Molly.”

“You’re welcome,” she said as she turned to back out of her spot. She didn’t want to get caught up in court intrigue, not by a long shot, but she knew that she would be offering Mycroft any help she could...no matter what it cost her.

[intpthinkinginquiet]

Weirdest thing - I was searching twitter for MollCroft and my Archive of our Own fics have been shared and twitted 'MissInComplete' is my user there. I'm flattered!