The two women met once a fortnight for lunch, always at the same place. The small restaurant in the City offered a selection of cuisines to appeal to the wide variety of its clientele, mostly workers from the financial district, as well cozy private accommodations to enhance the opportunity for conversation. For that is what the woman did. They conversed, or more likely complained about, the men in their respective lives.

Molly Hopper and Anthea Jones, although Molly suspected the "Jones" was fake, had grown acquainted during the two years Sherlock Holmes was "dead", but in reality was away dismantling James Moriarty's criminal network. Molly and Mycroft Holmes were the only two people in the world who knew the detective was alive, and Mycroft had taken great pains to keep Molly informed of his continued existence. Since it would have been ill advised to meet in person, Anthea had been sent in his stead on many occasions, and the two women had developed a bond. A bond perhaps strengthened by the fact that each of them, intelligent women that they were, soon recognized that they suffered from the same unfortunate condition. They were each of them in love with a Holmes.

Anthea was already seated at their usual table at the rear when Molly arrived, slightly behind schedule, making her apologies as she slid onto the banquette next to her friend. "Have you ordered yet?"

"No. I waited for you. There's no hurry today. Mycroft is out of the office for the rest of the afternoon. Something private. Or personal. Or confidential. Who knows? Something which I was informed didn't require my services!"

"Good! I'm free for the rest of the afternoon, as well. So we can take our time, and enjoy a lovely meal instead of rushing back as we usually do," Molly said as she perused the menu. "And there'll be plenty of time for dessert, for a change!"

"I don't know about that. If Mycroft Holmes so much as sees a cake crumb on me…"

"Still obsessing over pastry, is he? I wish Sherlock would think more about food. Sometimes he goes for days at a time living on coffee and packets of crisps!"

"They do have their foibles, don't they?" Anthea snickered. " Does Sherlock ever remove that Belstaff? It's May, for god's sake, and he was wearing it when I saw him the other day. He must have been sweltering!"

"How about Mycroft's umbrella? I once caught him walking through a downpour with it hooked over his arm!"

Both women were giggling as the waiter approached to take their order. "Let's try not to talk about them anymore," Anthea suggested. "Anything new on the romance front?"

"I actually had a date last week. Lovely man. A banker. He probably works in one of the buildings around here."

"That going anywhere?"

"No. Sherlock informed me that he was recently divorced, said divorce being caused by a string of affairs, and a series of unmentionable social diseases. One of which is only in remission, not cured, if you get my drift."

"Herpes? Sherlock found out your date had herpes? I'm not even going to ask how!" Anthea was laughing out loud. "Still, not as bad as my last date."

"You're kidding. How so?"

"Mycroft ran a security check, and halfway through our entrees MI6 came to collect him. No one has seen him since."

"Those two are so much alike, I'm amazed they can't get along better," Molly observed with a giggle.

"Maybe that's why they don't get along! And the fact that Mycroft can be sooo jealous of Sherlock's looks…"

"And Sherlock gets so angry that Mycroft is probably smarter!"

They were both giggling as the waiter delivered their starters. "How's Maggie?" Molly inquired after Anthea's cat.

"She's getting a bit old. Losing some hair. Just like Mycroft! And Toby?"

"Getting older, too. And cantankerous, just like…"

"Let me guess. Sherlock!" Anthea snickered once again. "By the way, have I told you that Mycroft has acquired a glowing bunny? I suppose I should kill you now that I've told you, but…"

"Baskerville?"

"How…"

"Sherlock mentioned something about a bunny after this case he was on. At Baskerville. Asked me if I wanted a cat that glowed. I believe to this day that he just wanted to scare the hell out of Toby!"

The two women continued through the meal in this fashion, not aware of what was going on at 221B Baker Street, where two brothers sat huddled over the screen of a laptop, deeply engrossed at the scene being played out before them.

"Sherlock, when you asked for help with that banker's medical files, I had no idea it was simply to sabotage Dr. Hooper's love life!"

"Yes, well, don't you think that calling in MI6 was a bit extreme, brother?"

"The man could have been a serious threat to national security, Sherlock,"

"Was he?"

"He could have been!"

"Not answering my question, Mycroft!"

"I can't really, Sherlock, as his new job does, indeed, involve national security. And is, by some strange co-incidence, located a great distance from London."

"Mycroft, do you ever think at times that this whole situation has gone beyond the point of ridiculousness? Here we sit, every two weeks, spying on two women whom we trust with our very lives. We are two grown men. Intelligent men. If we can admit to each other that we care deeply for these women, why can't we admit the same to them?"

Mycroft leaned back in his chair, seeming to take his brother's words to heart. Finally he spoke. "I have given the matter some thought, Sherlock. Yes, we are grown men. And, yes, we are highly intelligent. But even in my minor position," here he rolled his eyes just a bit, "in the British government, I have long since learned to shift the blame for any of my shortcomings. I have also learned to delegate authority. Pursuant to this, I have brought in a special agent to deal with the matter at hand." He then redirected his brother's eyes toward the screen.

Molly and Anthea were just finishing up their meal, still discussing what was just so wrong about the loves of their lives, each trying to top the other in their commiseration.

"And what grown man calls their mother 'Mummy', I ask you?" Molly almost sneered.

"Only one with definite issues!" agreed Anthea, only to be interrupted by a rather lovely elderly woman beautiful with blue/green eyes, and cheekbones to die for, saying, "I quite agree!"

Mrs. Violet Holmes moved to join them on the banquette seating, asking, "May I join you for dessert?"

The women looked at her in stunned silence. Anthea was the first to recover, "Mrs. Holmes, what are you doing here?"

"My sons have sent me to negotiate a settlement. Believe me, ladies, I hold no illusions about their character. The may be intellectual giants, but their social skills leave much to be desired. Sherlock is especially challenged in that regard! At least Mycroft had the good sense to recognize his weaknesses, and call in the reserves."

"I'm not sure I understand…" Molly now finally got up the nerve to speak.

"Of course not, my dear. It can be very difficult to understand my two idiot boys. That's why I'm here to make things very clear! Please try not to be too angry when I tell you that you have been under surveillance for some time. These luncheons have been observed. And my sons have come to the conclusion that you harbor some affections for them, something that any normal human being could have deduced from personal observation in about thirty seconds flat. But geniuses can be surprisingly obtuse sometimes! Although I have not been made privy to their exact sentiments, I can deduce that these affections are returned. However, I fully expect that you will both express your displeasure at this invasion of privacy." The older woman snorted. "I raised them better than this, and I blame their father! I will deal with him when I return home." Mrs. Holmes now made a noise in her throat, sounding like hmmpf!, and continued, "Now, let's order dessert. I could really use a piece of cake!"

Mycroft and Sherlock Holmes watched as Mummy dug into a large piece of chocolate cake, and gleefully joined into the assassination of their characters. Having known them so much longer, she had so much to add concerning their quirks and eccentricities, but it was all being discussed with a great deal of underlying affection. They were somewhat encouraged when their mother looked up at the hidden camera and gave them a smile and a wink.

"I suppose there will be hell to pay when Anthea returns to the office," Mycroft mused. "And she is quite the expert at martial arts!"

"Have you ever seen Molly Hooper angry, brother? Not a pretty sight. A tiny woman in a blood stained lab coat, armed with a scalpel and a bone saw! I don't look forward to it."

"It could be worse, little brother."

"How so?"

"We could be Papa!"