A/N: So, I saw on therinian's Tumblr a Mollcroft prompt I really liked. It said:

It's a bit OOC for Mycroft, but I'm looking for a humorous angle:

Mycroft realizes he likes Molly, but is at a loss as to how to ask her on a date; typically, he sends Anthea to make appointments with women he's interested in, but somehow doing that with Molly doesn't seem right. He turns to Sherlock, John, and Greg, individually, for pointers… and they give him the oddest advice.

Mycroft tries to employ each bit of advice in his attempts to woo Doctor Molly Hooper, with disastrous results. Just when it seems like Molly is completely disappointed and wants nothing to do with Mycroft, he gets advice from an unlikely source: be yourself.

So I feel like trying it out. May go well, may not. Who knows. Let's find out!


An Exception to Every Rule

Mycroft wasn't normally a heavy drinker, but there is an exception for every rule, and this was one of those times he just couldn't stop. He ran a hand down his face and sighed. Just when he decided he liked Molly, everything came crashing down on him at once. Wasn't that always the way? He had finished the damage control only today-a week after everything started-and now he had to deal with the problem that Molly Hooper had become. In any other situation, he would have just gotten Anthea to arrange an appointment with Molly so he could meet her. But somehow this just didn't seem right for Molly. An exception to the rule. He checked the CCTV footage again. He was hopelessly at a loss for what to do. It seemed it was time to do what he thought he'd never have to do after Sherlock cleaned up from cocaine: he had to ask for help. First person on his list to ask would be someone he knew didn't see Molly as much and if he did, he wouldn't be inclined to gossip. A quick phone call later and he was meeting Lestrade at a pub in 20. Not the ideal place, but he could tell on the phone Lestrade was already more than a little drunk, and he didn't trust Greg to meet him anywhere, so it would have to do.

When he showed up, Greg motioned for him to take a seat, and Mycroft complied. Ordering a shot of his own, he got straight to the point. "I need some advice."

Greg looked at him and laughed. "Never thought I'd hear you say that to me again. What's the matter? Sherlock at it again?"

"No…I need some…girl…advice."

Greg nearly choked on his drink. "What?! Mate, I think I've had one too many pints. I thought you just said you needed help with girls?"

"You heard me correctly."

"Well, then. How can I help?"

"Say I liked someone shy and not very outgoing, but was still willing to stand up for what she believed…like Molly, for example. And I don't always follow the moral code she does, so I don't know how she sees me. How could I show her I like her without her thinking I'm just trying to manipulate her?"

"That is a tough one. I mean if she's anything like Molly and you're…well, you…" Mycroft rolled his eyes, "Why don't you just…talk to her? Get in a conversation, bring up dinner and see if she'll accept. Don't be subtle about it. The worst that can happen is she'll say no."

Mycroft knocked back his shot and said, "That's worse coming from her than from most people."

Greg slapped his shoulder suddenly and said, "Good luck, mate. Have you tried asking John?"

"John?"

"In the army they called him John 'Three Continents' Watson, if that gives you an idea of how he is with women."

Mycroft hummed in thought. "Maybe I will. Thanks, I guess."

"Anytime." Lestrade tried to stand but had to sit down quickly.

"Do you want me to call you a cab?" Mycroft offered.

"Please."


John walked into Mycroft's office the next day, wondering what exactly was happening. Mycroft poured himself a glass of whiskey and offered one to John. Alarms going off in John's head, he immediately asked, "Mycroft, what am I doing here?"

Mycroft said bluntly, "I confronted Lestrade with a problem and he directed me towards you."

"Me, why?"

"You were known to your friends in the army as John 'Three Continents' Watson, were you not?"

"No way. You need dating advice? Someone pinch me, I must be dreaming!" he laughed.

He stopped when he realized Mycroft wasn't joking. "Oh. You really need advice."

Mycroft winced and looked away. "This wasn't a good idea…"

John shook his head and said, "What's the problem? Do you need her to notice you, or are you already dating and hit a bump in the relationship?"

Mycroft looked back at him. "You're acting surprisingly calm about this."

"Well, the sooner I answer your question the sooner I can leave. Now which is it?"

"The first one."

"Well, why don't you try cracking a few jokes?"

"Me? Joke. Please tell me you're not serious."

"If you don't normally do it, that should get her attention." John shrugged. "It's worth a shot."

Mycroft nodded mutely and was about to say he could leave when Sherlock burst in. "Mycroft! Why have you taken John this time?!"

"Mycroft needs girl advice!" John said like he was still in grade school. Sherlock's eyes widened and Mycroft face palmed, wishing he could die on the spot.

Sherlock starts laughing, not believing his ears. Mycroft tries to throw both of them out of his office, but as he's shoving Sherlock out, his foot gets caught in the door. "Show off your intellect. It's always gotten me the girls." Sherlock removes his foot and closes the door before Mycroft can respond. Now he has three pieces of advice that seem kind of odd, but he's willing to give it a shot. He figures he'll go to the morgue tomorrow and see if it works, somehow feeling a little lighter now that he has some sort of plan.


When Mycroft enters the morgue the next day, Molly does a double take when she sees him. "Mr. Holmes! How can I help you?"

"Well, you could call me Mycroft for a start, Dr. Hooper." He tries a laugh but it comes out forced and a little cold. "I needed to check one of your bodies. He was an associate of mine and I need to see exactly how much damage control I have to do."

"Oh, of course. You can call me Molly, by the way. What's the man's name?"

"Smith. John Smith."

Molly nods and says, "I won't be getting to him for quite some time. You can stay…or leave! Whichever suits you. Most people don't seem to like waiting around here…"she stammers.

Mycroft tries not to smile and says, "I don't have anywhere to be, so I won't wind up like someone here if I wait."

"What?" Molly asks.

"I won't be 'late.'" Mycroft tries to smile, but something tells him that was the wrong thing to do as Molly starts to get mad.

"Is this a joke to you?"

"I…what?"

"These people were human beings. Walking, talking, human beings. Just days ago you could have passed these people on the street. How can you be so insensitive?!"

Mycroft blinked back his surprise. There goes one technique down the drain. "Sorry, I'm not one for jokes. Some people say I could use a little lightening up, so I was trying it out."

"Well, it's not funny."

Mycroft nodded. "I understand that now. Am I still allowed to wait?"

Molly nods silently and goes to work. Mycroft notices after a while she's having a bit of trouble with one of the corpses. "I don't get it. No tumors, no evidence of violence, or poison, or anything! This man should be alive for all intents and purposes. What got to him?"

Mycroft realizes he could try Sherlock's advice now, after all, the reason Molly has a crush on Sherlock is because of his smarts, right? "What about that mark on the back of his neck?"

Molly starts and looks up at him. "There's a small mark on the back of his neck. It could pass as a birthmark, but it looks like something bruised him there and could have immobilized him, causing damage to some of his nerves. Without medical attention he could have died within the day, depending on where he was left and who left him there," he explains.

"Show off," Molly stated. "Trying to prove you're smarter than me?"

"Just trying to help."

"I don't need your 'help,'" Molly grumbled.

Mycroft mentally checked that off his list as well. He took a breath and said, "It just seems so quiet in here, I was trying to spark a little conversation."

Molly put down her tools and said, "Mycroft, I've had a long day. I'm not in the mood to talk. So if you can't stand waiting in here, go do something else and I'll text you when I'm ready. Or better yet, I'll just e-mail the report for you, since you clearly have more important places to be. Just go."

Mycroft opened his mouth but Molly just pointed to the door. "Go."

Mycroft slunk out and sighed. In the car ride back to his office, Anthea noticed his leg was bouncing impatiently and he was looking wistfully out the window. "Something the matter, sir?"

Mycroft looked over at her as if noticing her for the first time. "Anthea, you're a girl."

"Amazing observation, sir." Anthea rolled her eyes. She couldn't help but being sarcastic at that comment.

"How would you want someone to ask you on a date?"

Anthea laughed. She couldn't help it. Mycroft could be so thick about the most basic of things. "I'd want them to be themselves. No gimmicks, no tricks, just to come up and ask me."

Mycroft sighed and said, "I can't do that…can I?"

"You tell me, sir."

When Mycroft got back to the office, he called up a flower shop and ordered a bouquet of red tulips and yellow with one yew flower in the middle to deliver them to the morgue tomorrow with the tag, Look up Victorian Flower Language–MH

The next day he got a picture of a garden daisy by text and the words Apology accepted. –Molly

Dinner?-MH

Of course! -Molly

Mycroft smiled. He was glad that Molly was willing to accept who he was-a little old-fashioned, and a little socially awkward, but still someone who was willing to love someone else if they allowed him to. Now all he had to do was not screw up dinner…