Author's Note: This chapter completes the original "Advantages" story arc. The last scene was where I intended to leave the Holmes family since it brings the "theme" of this Mycroft and Molly story full circle. However, I've gone on to write additional installments that will be posted very soon as chapters of a separate, ongoing "Advantages" story.

#####

After spending the first night at home with Michael, Molly couldn't imagine how other women coped with taking care of a newborn and doing … well, anything else. Molly, at least, was in the enviable position of being responsible for doing nothing but taking care of the baby and herself. And to an extent she wasn't even doing that. At least not alone.

She'd fallen asleep on the chaise longue early the previous evening after Mycroft took charge of the just-fed Michael and she hadn't wakened until he needed another feed almost two hours later. Her dinner had been brought to her by Mrs. Collingwood. Her parents-in-law had hovered - at times in or near the bedroom, at other times in spirit - throughout the evening, offering their assistance. After Michael finished nursing mid-evening, Molly had accepted Violet's help to get a shower and wash her hair, leaving Mycroft holding the baby and Siger serving as his eager wingman. By the time Molly had washed the hospital smell - a lingering antiseptic scent - off her body and out of her hair and put on fresh nightclothes, she felt much better, and a walk up and down the hall several times with Siger had helped to lessen the aches in her muscles. But ten minutes later she'd felt faint while standing in the bedroom's sitting area and had to sit quickly as that feeling of exhaustion spread through her again. Ten minutes after that Michael was awake and needing her.

Molly had been told, and knew, that such tiredness after giving birth was perfectly normal, especially when feeding a baby "on cue." She'd gone to bed when she finished nursing Michael just after eleven and had already dozed off by the time Mycroft joined her after changing the baby's nappy and ensuring he was asleep on his back in the mini-cot by their bed. The rest of the night was a blur of trying to nap between feeding the baby every two hours or so, and even Mycroft – who had no problem with going without sleep for days when work required it - looked a bit hollow-eyed when Michael stirred again at a quarter past six. In the few minutes it took for Mycroft to bring the baby to her, Molly decided to give in to the others' urging her to stay in bed as much as possible over the next several days and to accept their offers of assistance. She needed to regain her strength and the best way to do that was to get some rest, which meant sleeping during the relatively short periods when the baby slept between feeds.

Once Molly began nursing Michael, Mycroft put on his dressing gown and headed for the kitchen. He was slumped on a stool at the island, sipping tea, when Mrs. Collingwood came in and stopped abruptly at seeing him.

"I was going to bring the tea tray up to you, Mr. Mycroft," she said, frowning. "You look exhausted."

"It's Molly who should be exhausted," he said, lowering his cup to the saucer. "After witnessing the labor and birthing process and seeing how often Michael has to be fed, I don't know how she hasn't keeled over by now."

The housekeeper rested her hand on his shoulder and gave him a pat before moving to the refrigerator. "How would you like a Full English this morning? Do you think Miss Molly would be up for it?"

Mycroft shifted on the stool and turned to her. "That sounds wonderful, Mrs. C. I don't know if Molly will want something too heavy but let's offer it to her." He paused, and his lips turned up at the corners. "She'll be more likely to tuck in if she has to resist the sight and smell of your eggs and sausages."

"How are Molly and the baby?"

Mycroft quickly turned toward the doorway as Violet sailed through, followed by his father. "Nursing right now. Molly didn't get much rest, but Michael nursed well and slept for a while in between feedings."

"Very tiring for you, too, I think," Violet said, sliding an arm around his shoulders and stooping to kiss his forehead. "You should go get a shower or whatever you want to do. We'll help Mrs. C prepare your and Molly's breakfast and bring it up." She stopped as Mycroft pulled out his phone.

"They're not finished nursing yet," he said, turning the screen toward Violet. "We have a new wireless CCTV system so we can see and hear Michael when he's in his cot or anywhere else we choose to put the cameras."

Violet smiled as she listened to Molly softly singing to the baby. "Molly does know you're monitoring her as well?"

"Molly knows that I temporarily adjusted the camera angle this morning," he said, "though by now she's likely forgotten it's there. The cameras will normally be providing an audio and video feed of Michael's cots in both rooms." He slipped the phone into his pocket, then rose to his feet. "I'm going to do what you suggested, Mummy." His gaze moved from one of them to the other. "Thank you."

Molly looked up with a smile when Mycroft came into their room. "Did you get something to eat?"

"Just tea," he said, shrugging out of his dressing gown. "They're bringing us breakfast shortly, so I'm going to have a quick shower and get dressed – unless I can do something for you?"

"No, we're fine … aren't we, sweetie," she said, wrinkling her nose at the baby, whose eyes were fixed on her face.

#####

After lunch, which they'd eaten in the sitting area of their room, Mycroft went to the study to work for a while. They'd moved the mini-cot over by the chaise longue, and Molly was reading while she waited for Michael to wake up again. Her breasts, which started to ache earlier, had now begun to tingle, and she felt them flush with sudden warmth when Michael abruptly woke with a fussy cry, and then her right breast leaked.

"Oh god," she muttered, shifting to the side of the chaise. "Hold on, Michael." She went to Mycroft's bathroom since it was closer and grabbed a couple of towels, then ran some cool water on a flannel before returning to sit by the cot. She quickly unbuttoned her nightgown and lowered both now-damp cups of her bra. She lifted Michael and settled on the chaise, placing the cool flannel over her left breast and covering it with a folded towel, then encouraged the baby to latch onto her right breast. Her breasts felt tight and it was uncomfortable when Michael first started to nurse, but the ache in that breast eased as time passed. Molly looked up when the bedroom door abruptly opened and Mycroft strode across the room, looking concerned.

"What's happened?"

"My milk's come in," she said, "and quite suddenly, too."

"What can I do to help?"

"There's nothing to do," she said, shifting over and holding her hand out for Mycroft's, then tugging him down to sit beside her. "It's just made my breasts ache and tingle, but nursing is helping with that – in the one breast at least." She leaned against the backrest and smiled, still holding his hand.

"His sucking sounds different," Mycroft observed after a few moments.

"The milk is thinner than the colostrum and there should be more of it. I suppose Michael's surprised as well, assuming he's capable of noticing the difference." She brought his hand to her lips and kissed the back of it, then held the palm against her cheek. "There is something you can do for me, please. I need a fresh nightgown and bra from the top drawer of the chest just inside my dressing room door. And some leak shields from the package in the wardrobe in Michael's room – the one where all the extra nappies are stored."

When Mycroft brought the things she'd requested, Molly urged him to return to his work and asked him to send Violet up when convenient. He did leave but came back almost immediately with his mother.

"Thank you, Mycroft, but there was no hurry," Molly said. "I just wanted to talk to Mummy about breastfeeding since she has some experience with it." She suppressed a smile when Mycroft grimaced at the mention of his mother in regard to something of such a personal nature. He and Sherlock were both surprisingly prudish when it came to their parents and, as Molly expected, Mycroft hastily excused himself and returned to the study.

#####

Molly didn't bother to argue about Mycroft carrying her downstairs for Sunday dinner. She just looped her arms around his neck and smiled at Siger who was carrying Michael in the Moses basket and at Violet who was following behind with the baby bag. Michael had been fed and changed and was still awake, with everything seeming to be all right in his world for the moment.

Mrs. Collingwood had already left for the day, so after they'd finished eating, the men and Violet cleared the table and dealt with the kitchen cleanup before joining Molly and the now-sleeping Michael in the sitting room. When Michael woke and started to fuss, Mycroft handed Molly a light-weight blanket from the baby bag. Molly settled Michael against her, arranged the blanket over her shoulder, then started to unfasten her blouse and bra under its cover, but hesitated, looking at her parents-in-law. "Is this all right?"

"Of course, my dear," Violet said, patting Siger's knee. His head was buried in the newspaper, but he dropped the corner to give Molly a smile before returning to his reading.

By the time Michael next fell asleep, the others had decided an afternoon nap was a good idea. Mycroft delivered Molly to their bed, Siger brought Michael up and transferred him from the basket to his cot, and then the elder Holmeses headed down the hall. Mycroft toed off his shoes and took off his jacket and waistcoat, then crawled onto the bed and stretched out beside Molly with a sigh. After a few moments, he rolled onto his side, shifted closer into their usual spooning position, and rested his hand on the soft bulge of her post-pregnancy belly. He huffed a laugh when Molly immediately removed his hand and held it against her breast instead. "You can't hide it from me forever," he murmured, then grunted when she elbowed him in the chest.

#####

Mycroft was sitting at his desk Sunday evening when he heard the front door unexpectedly open and familiar footsteps come down the hall. Without looking up, he quietly called, "Come in, little brother."

Sherlock paused in the doorway, head tilted as he studied an unfamiliar Mycroft, sitting relaxed in his desk chair, lamp turned low, jacket and waistcoat off, and attention totally focused on the blanket-wrapped infant held in the crook of his arm. After several moments, Mycroft lifted his gaze, brow arched questioningly. "Have a seat, Sherlock."

Sherlock finally crossed the room and dropped into the chair across from Mycroft, continuing to study the scene silently, then smirked at the pattern of the yellow fleece blanket. "Ducks wearing bowties, brother mine?"

"Molly assures me Michael loves bowtie-wearing ducks," Mycroft said drily, without looking up.

"He can't distinguish such images yet."

Mycroft's eyes lifted and he gave his brother a wry smile. "Feel free to argue that point with Molly."

Sherlock huffed a quiet laugh. "Not a chance."

The three of them sat in companionable silence for a while, then Mycroft leaned his head against the back of his chair and studied his brother. "You're welcome, Sherlock, but what brought you here this late?"

"The thought of observing you after three days of being stuck in the house with Molly, a newborn, and the parents," he quipped. "That had the potential to be entertaining."

Mycroft snorted, then lifted his chin in acknowledgment. "Bored?"

"John took the gun away."

"Ah." Mycroft's eyes lowered to Michael, who'd begun to stir. "I'm sure Mrs. Hudson and her walls were relieved."

"Carrying a weapon to some of the places John and I go is a necessary precaution," Sherlock said crankily. "We can't all call on an armed force at a moment's notice for protection."

When the baby's hand fluttered at the edge of the blanket, Mycroft slipped a finger into the loose fist and the tiny fingers immediately gripped his larger one. "There is nothing I wouldn't do to protect Molly and Michael – to protect my family," he said evenly, then raised his eyes to Sherlock. "And that includes you, brother mine." They stared at each other silently, then Mycroft looked away before shifting forward in his chair. "Well, I better get Michael back to Molly. He'll be hungry again soon."

"How is Molly?"

"Tired, and nursing Michael so often doesn't allow her much uninterrupted sleep, but Molly will be fine," Mycroft said, cradling the baby closer as he rose from his chair.

Sherlock stood as well and waited for Mycroft to come around the desk. Mycroft stopped alongside him, raised a hand to push the blanket away from the baby's face, then lifted his elbow outward so Sherlock could see Michael more easily. His brother made a show of rolling his eyes, but leaned in closer. After a few seconds of intent study, he lifted his eyes to Mycroft's and shook his head sadly. "No point in trying to deny your paternity, brother dear. Thank god Michael appears to have Molly's nose."

Mycroft snorted and gathered his son more closely to him, then started toward the door. "Stay if you want." When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he added over his shoulder, "There's always room for you here, little brother."

Sherlock watched as his brother started up the stairs. "Don't be absurd," he scoffed. "As if I'd want to be under your fat thumb." Mycroft paused when Sherlock cleared his throat. "Tell Molly … tell her …"

"She knows, Sherlock. She's always known."

#####

Early the next morning, Mycroft was sitting on the edge of the bed while Molly nursed Michael. "I can work from home while Anthea covers the office. I don't have to go in."

"Yes," Molly insisted, "you do." She lifted her free hand to his jaw, then ran her fingers down his throat, smoothed the lapel of his dressing gown, and pressed her palm against his chest. "Michael and I will always need you, Mycroft, but we don't need you to stay home with us today. We all have to get into a routine of sorts and that means you going to work. My job is being here. Someday I'll return to Barts, but until then my focus will be taking care of Michael." She slowly smiled, then added, "And being with you." She touched the tip of her forefinger to his chest and applied pressure. "Now go. Take your shower, have a good breakfast and get to the office. You need to spend time away from all this domesticity before your brain starts turning to mush."

Mycroft lifted her finger off his chest, kissed its tip, and lowered his head until their lips met, taking care not to lean on the baby. He then dropped a gentle kiss on Michael's forehead, causing the baby to frown at being disturbed while intent on nursing. Molly huffed a laugh at the mini-Mycroft crease that appeared between the perfect little brows. "Oh, he is so your son."

#####

"Good morning, sir," Anthea said, smiling brightly as Mycroft came in, and he returned the greeting with a brief smile before entering his office and shutting the door behind him. An hour later, she was answering emails while he studied a report, a crease between his brows, until he finally placed the file on the desk and sat back, fingers steepled under his chin. Anthea glanced at him, but continued to work on her phone since her boss was obviously thinking.

They worked for more than two hours on strategies for dealing with a crisis brewing in Southeast Asia before Mycroft finally dismissed Anthea with a flick of his fingers. Anthea uncrossed her legs and started to stand, but paused, suddenly struck by something … alien in the air. Mycroft looked up from the file he was studying, face impassive. "Was there something else?"

Anthea cleared her throat, but shook her head without speaking. Once back at her desk, she thought for a few moments, then picked up the phone. "Molly?"

Ten minutes later, Mycroft answered a call from his wife. "Hello, my dear."

"I hope I'm not interrupting something important, Mycroft."

"Not at all," he said, turning away from the latest, increasingly frantic email from the PM's principal private secretary. "Is everything all right at home?"

"We're fine," she said.

He waited for the rest of it, then finally prompted her after several moments of silence. "But?"

"Nothing's wrong," she said, "but I wondered if you could come home for a short break. Maybe for lunch?"

Mycroft checked the time and considered the meetings slated for the afternoon and evening, then, "Of course, my dear. I'll be there in half an hour." When he let himself into the house, he was surprised that it was so quiet. He found Mrs. Collingwood and his mother in the kitchen, and both had been unaware that he was coming home. Violet said Siger had walked to a bookstore on the High Street. He went upstairs and found Molly stretched out on the chaise longue, nursing Michael.

Molly was startled when Mycroft entered the bedroom and crossed the room to her. "Oh, hi! I didn't expect you so soon."

He bent to give her a quick kiss and brushed his forefinger over the baby's cheek, then straightened and slid his hands into his trouser pockets, carefully studying the two of them. "Are you all right?"

"We're both fine," she said. "I told you nothing's wrong here."

Mycroft considered that statement as he continued to study her. "Nothing's wrong here. Is something wrong elsewhere?"

Molly hesitated. "Please don't be angry with Anthea, Mycroft, but she told me you have some important meetings this afternoon, and …"

His face fell into impassive lines as he suppressed a surge of alarm at Anthea's indiscretion. The fact of his having meetings wasn't exactly top secret, but not talking about anything work-related had been the principal caveat when Anthea initially started spending off-duty time with Molly. If Anthea could talk about meetings, she might eventually talk about something that would ultimately endanger Molly. "I'm sorry, my dear, but I fail to see why my personal assistant felt it necessary to share information about my diary."

Oh, dear. "Mycroft, don't be angry … please." Molly sighed. "The thing is …"

"The thing is?"

"You, um … smell like the baby," she said quickly, biting her lip when he stared at her for several moments, then blinked slowly and brought his jacket sleeve to his nose. "It may be from the baby wipes." When he lowered his arm, but still didn't say anything, she continued more quickly, "Anthea didn't want you to go into the meetings and have the other people, um … the scent is quite distinctive as being baby-related, you know. You might not understand, but Anthea was embarrassed to bring it up. She told me it seemed too personal and, besides, if the scent is on your clothes, you'll need to change your suit and may need to shower." He was still staring at her and she added, earnestly, "She would have told you, I'm sure, if you didn't have me now."

"If I didn't have you, I wouldn't smell like a baby," he said mildly. Before Molly took that too seriously, he threw his head back and laughed. "My god, I smell like a baby and I didn't notice," he said, eyes sparkling with humor, then sat on the edge of the chaise when Michael finished nursing. "Here, give him to me. In for a penny …," he said, cradling the baby close to his chest.

Mycroft walked into the office less than an hour later and stopped by Anthea's desk when she looked at him without speaking. The corners of his lips finally turned up. "Thank you, Anthea. Having Cabinet members catch a whiff of baby as I passed by could have had a deleterious effect on my professional reputation."

"Surely not, sir," she said, then grinned. "But I would likely have been fielding some interesting calls this afternoon."

#####

On Tuesday, Molly had had enough of recovering upstairs, so she stayed up when Michael fell asleep in his cot after an early morning feeding and got dressed for the day in an over-sized, button-front shirt, yoga pants and trainers. She then packed the baby bag with a day's supplies and put the bag on the bed by the Moses basket and a large baby blanket, ready to take downstairs.

Mycroft came out of his dressing room, jacket over his arm as he buttoned his waistcoat, and stopped short on seeing Molly both out of bed and fully dressed. She rose from the chaise longue and went to stand in front of him, lifting a hand to push the last button through its hole. "Michael and I are going to spend the day downstairs," she said.

Mycroft raised his brows as he shrugged into his jacket. "Do you really feel up to that?"

"Other women who've had much harder deliveries than I did get back into the swing of things earlier than this – maybe they're forced to by circumstances, but they're doing it every day. I've had four days with little to do other than rest and feed Michael so, yes, I do feel up to spending the day downstairs. If the weather stays clear, I may even take Michael outside and sit in the back garden for a while."

"You're not supposed to be doing stairs," he said, frowning.

"Again, other women whose homes have stairs are forced to take them from day one." She raised a hand, reading his mind, "No, I'm not comparing my circumstances with theirs, but while avoiding stairs for a while is recommended, that's often not possible. I'm sore, but I don't have stitches to worry about pulling." Molly tilted her head as she looked up at him, then sighed. "I want to try using the stairs, Mycroft, but I'll go very carefully and very slowly."

So Mycroft carried Michael in his basket and Molly walked slowly down the stairs beside them, keeping a strong hold on the banister. Mrs. Collingwood looked up, eyes wide when Molly came into the kitchen. "Good morning, Miss Molly. I didn't know you were coming down today."

"It's time, Mrs. C," she said, carefully lifting herself onto a stool while Mycroft placed Michael's basket on the island and put the baby bag on the floor by her feet. He continued to the teapot and came back with two cups, placing one by Molly's hand before taking the stool across from her. "Thank you, darling."

Siger and Violet came into the kitchen a few minutes later. At Molly's nod, Violet lifted Michael out of his basket and Siger moved it to the floor, then they sat on the remaining stools. Mrs. Collingwood poured cups of tea for the elder Holmeses and refreshed Mycroft's cup, then returned to the stove to finish breakfast preparations.

Half an hour later, Molly followed Mycroft to the front door and waited while he took his umbrella from the hook and picked up his briefcase from the hall table. While both of his hands were occupied, she stepped closer and slid her arms around his waist under his jacket and tilted her head back in invitation, looking at him from beneath lowered lids. He gave her a very precise, deliberate kiss, then pulled back until her eyes opened. "Don't overdo things today. Let my parents and Mrs. C assist you however they can. They want to, Molly." He gave her another, more lingering kiss, then stepped back and opened the door. Molly waved at Walter and stood watching until the front gate closed behind the car.

When Molly returned to the kitchen, Toby suddenly appeared. She stooped to scratch his ears as the cat rubbed himself against her shins before scampering to the food bowl Mrs. Collingwood had just placed on the floor.

Molly did get tired as the day went on, but was pleased with the increase in her activity level. She, Violet and Siger took Michael into the back garden mid-morning, and Molly made several circuits of it, walking just inside the stone wall, while her parents-in-law sat on a bench with the baby. At one point, Siger went inside to get the baby bag and Molly changed Michael's nappy before nursing him under a blanket thrown over her shoulder. They stayed outside enjoying the unusually warm, sunny weather until Mrs. Collingwood called from the door that lunch was ready. After they finished eating, Molly played the piano while Violet held Michael. When Michael went to sleep, they all switched to reading – Violet and Siger on one sofa, Molly on the other with Michael in the Moses basket beside her. They had tea mid-afternoon, and then Molly nursed Michael again. He stayed awake for more than an hour, and Molly left Violet and Siger to entertain him while she walked up and down the long hall for about twenty minutes. The three of them spent a lot of time talking as well, and Molly learned more about Mycroft's childhood years.

When Mycroft got home from work, Molly was already suppressing yawns and longing for bed, but it would be almost four hours before she got there. By the time Michael finished a late evening feed, had been changed, and was asleep in the mini-cot, it was just after eleven. Mycroft flipped off the light in his bathroom, then quietly crossed the room and slipped into bed beside an already dozing Molly. He pressed his length along her back, wrapped an arm around her, and sighed against her neck. "Hard day?"

Molly's only response to his murmured question was to reach behind her and pat his hip, then she sighed and nestled deeper into her pillow.

#####

Wednesday passed in similar fashion to Tuesday until mid-afternoon when Molly's in-laws retreated to their suite for a nap before they got dressed for an evening out. Mycroft had bought tickets to a new West End musical for Violet, Siger and a couple of their friends and was treating them to a pre-theatre dinner. Mycroft had called Violet after lunch to confirm when the car would arrive to pick them up, and he'd also let Molly know he should be home at a reasonable time.

After Siger and Violet went upstairs, Molly was sitting in the sunny corner window seat in her office, knees raised, with Michael on his back in the "V" of her lap. He'd already been awake for almost an hour so she knew he wouldn't last much longer, but he'd been alert and seemed fixated by the exaggerated faces and silly voices she was using while singing children's songs to him. "… swish, swish, swish, all through the town –" Molly broke off when Mrs. Collingwood tapped on the open door.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Miss Molly, but I wanted to talk to you about dinner," the housekeeper said tentatively, then crossed the room when Molly waved her over. She sat at the other end of the large L-shaped cushion and watched, smiling, as Molly turned back to Michael. "I know you said to keep it simple since it's just you and Mr. Mycroft, but I thought, since it's your first dinner alone since the baby arrived …"

Molly turned to look at her, smiling. "What did you have in mind, Mrs. C?"

#####

Mrs. Collingwood carried the sleeping baby as Molly slowly went upstairs. When the housekeeper returned to the kitchen, Molly put Michael in the mini-cot, then went to her dressing room to decide what to wear for dinner. She didn't want to dress up too much, but she at least wanted it to look like she'd made some sort of effort. She checked on Michael, then took the baby monitor with her and turned the volume up before setting it on the vanity near the shower. When Molly returned to the bedroom in her dressing gown, Michael was still sleeping peacefully, so she went back to the bathroom and quickly dried her hair.

Mycroft's eyes briefly widened when Molly met him at the door that evening wearing a loose summer frock in a white, blue and yellow floral print and a pair of blue flats. She'd pulled her hair back in a smooth ponytail and put on some gold love knot earrings, but left her makeup at a simple clear lip gloss. "You look lovely, my dear," he said, hooking his umbrella in its customary place before bending to kiss her. "You must be feeling better."

"I am," she said, lifting on her toes to give him another kiss. "Dinner won't be ready for half an hour or so."

"Where's Michael?"

"In the sitting room," she said, slipping her hand around his arm and they turned to walk down the hall. "He's been fed and has been awake for a while, so I expect him to be asleep by the time we sit down."

Mycroft lifted Michael from the basket and cuddled him to his chest, then sat beside Molly on the sofa. "Are you really feeling as well as you look, my dear?"

"My breasts ache, my nether parts are tender, and I'm still having contractions, especially when nursing, all of which is expected," she said, laughing softly as she leaned her head against his arm. "I don't know how well I look, but, yes, I feel better."

Michael had been staring at Mycroft's face, but began to blink slowly. Both parents were watching him as his eyelids dropped shut, then fluttered open, and repeated the process several times before he went to sleep. Mycroft dropped his shoulder and leaned sideways to kiss Molly and she slid a hand through his hair and clasped the back of his head to keep him pressed to her. When their mouths separated, she murmured, "There's still time for a quick shower and change if you want."

Mycroft kissed her forehead, then pulled back and carefully passed Michael to her. "All right, I'll be back soon."

Mrs. Collingwood had prepared a simple meal for them, if perfectly grilled rib-eyed steaks, jacket potatoes and fresh asparagus could be called simple. Michael didn't stir when Mycroft put him in the Moses basket and set it between them on the dining table, and he stayed asleep long enough to allow them to enjoy a leisurely meal. By the time Mycroft pulled her chair back and Molly rose from the table, she felt as if they'd been on a date.

When his parents got home, filled with excitement to relate their evening's adventures, Mycroft was stretched out on the sofa in the sitting room with his head in Molly's lap, reading while she nursed Michael. He swung his legs to the floor and abruptly sat up when Violet came into the room, and Molly suppressed a smile when she noticed the pink tips of his ears. As always, she was completely charmed, utterly seduced, by that tell-tale sign of her worldly husband's embarrassment at being caught in a private moment, however innocent it might be.

#####

On day eight, Molly felt some milestones had been reached. Michael's cord stump fell off, his arms and legs would now fully extend, and the time he spent nursing was steadily increasing. His number of feedings per day had already dropped from fourteen or fifteen to nine or ten, and Molly was able to sleep a little longer at a time, as was Mycroft.

#####

The last Friday in May was the first night Michael slept in his own room, in the "big" cot. Molly knew the CCTV system worked – that they'd have a live audio and video feed, but she still felt nervous. After she'd nursed him late that evening, she'd watched Mycroft place him in the cot on his back and gently lift the covers over him. Molly hung over the side of the cot until Mycroft rested his palms on her shoulders and leaned around to kiss her cheek. "He'll be all right, Molly."

"I know, but –"

"He's just across the hall from us. You can get to him in a few seconds."

"I know."

"It's good for Michael to learn early on to sleep in his own room before he gets accustomed to sleeping in ours."

"I know." Molly sighed. "I know." She let Mycroft turn her away from the cot, then took his arm as they crossed the room, glancing back just before he closed the door behind them. Once they were in bed, Molly asked Mycroft to check that the baby monitor was working properly.

Mycroft had already checked the monitor, but picked it up and let Molly see the screen. She listened to the soft sound of Michael's even breaths and watched the movement of his chest for several moments before handing the monitor back to Mycroft and turning away. She settled on her side and pulled the covers over her shoulder, then stared at her bedside lamp. She stretched to turn it off, then tried to relax.

Mycroft's arm slid around her and he fitted his long body into the curves and angles of hers, pressing close against her back. "He'll be all right."

Several seconds passed silently, then Molly abruptly threw the covers off and sat up, twisting to face Mycroft. Their eyes met in the light from his lamp, then he opened his arms and she fell into them, shifting until she was half lying across his body and pressing her face against his throat. She sobbed when he pulled the covers up and wrapped his arms around her. "It's the hormones," she gasped, gulping back more tears.

"I know," he said, then reached for the lamp switch.

#####

After Sunday dinner on that last weekend of May, Violet and Siger left the sitting room and went upstairs to get ready to return home. They'd been invited to stay longer, but needed to get home since Siger had a dentist's appointment the next day, there'd be bills that were due to be mailed, etc., etc.

Molly was nursing Michael, head resting against the back of the sofa, and she rolled her head sideways toward Mycroft. "I'm really going to miss them, Mycroft," she said. "They've been a pleasure to have around, and they've been extremely helpful." She looked down at Michael. "I'm glad they've had this time with the baby, but we have to make sure they see Michael often."

"We will," he said, taking her hand. "I'll make sure to invite them more often."

"But that's not enough," she said. "We need to visit them as well, and if you're not available, I should go on my own."

"Molly –"

"Mycroft, I know they're in great health, but they're both in their late seventies." Molly sighed. "I hope they live for another twenty years, but we can't take them for granted."

"Don't worry, my love – we'll work it out."

When the time of their departure came, Molly cried, Violet cried, and Michael cried – though that was probably because of Molly's delay in responding to his nursing cue and not in recognition that his grandparents were leaving. Siger's eyes were decidedly moist when he kissed the baby, hugged and kissed Molly, and gripped Mycroft's shoulder before pulling his son into a hug. Mycroft was successful at hiding it, but even he felt a lump in his throat as he and Molly stood on the front steps, watching the car turn through the gate.

#####

Second Friday in June

Mycroft slipped into the house a bit earlier than usual Friday evening - and without Molly noticing, which wasn't due to the stealth of his entry, but to the noise coming from the music room. He placed his briefcase on the hall table and hung up his umbrella, then stepped to the open door and surveyed the scene.

Molly was on her elbows and knees, bum in the air, on a large blanket on the floor, singing to four-weeks-old Michael who was on his stomach, feet pumping jerkily as he lifted his head just enough to clear the blanket. Molly broke off from singing and her rear-end wiggled in excitement as she exuberantly praised the baby. "That's it, Michael! Oooh, you're such a clever boy!" She lowered her head further until their faces were close together and continued talking to him cheerfully. Mycroft couldn't distinguish everything she was saying since the music drowned out her soft tones.

Molly gasped and twisted around when the music abruptly shut off. "Mycroft!" She quickly got to her feet, looking excited, then paused. "How long have you been there?"

"Long enough for my ears to bleed from that infernal racket."

Molly grinned, then bent to pick up Michael while singing, "Dra-ma queen, tall and lean, thirty-plus-seventeen …"

Mycroft rolled his eyes, recognizing the tune from having once suffered through a matinee of Mamma Mia during a visit by his parents. "Just how much time did you spend on those lyrics?"

"Not that long," she said, then grinned mischievously. "What took time was the wait for the right opportunity to use them!"

Molly skipped closer – honest to god, his thirty-six-year-old wife was skipping – and hitched Michael higher in her arms. "Your daddy's home, Michael!" The baby's eyes were bright with interest and he gurgled and his feet pumped excitedly when Molly passed him to Mycroft.

As Mycroft reached for the baby, he couldn't deny feeling dead chuffed when Michael obviously recognized him and reacted with such enthusiasm. He pressed a deliberately noisy kiss on the baby's forehead, and Michael cooed and gurgled in response as his toes dug into Mycroft's stomach.

After supper, the three of them settled in the study - Mycroft completing some work at his desk, and Molly nursing Michael in a chair by the fireplace.

"Do you think it's cool enough for a fire? Just the gas starter would be fine." It had been a rainy day and Molly had felt chilled when the temperature dropped during the early evening. Mycroft agreed and came around his desk to take care of it. "Mmm, your daddy's making a fire for us, Michael," she said, smiling at the intent look on his sweet little face. "Sitting by a fire on a cold – well, coolish – night is one of life's pleasures." Michael's eyes remained fixed on Molly's, slowly blinking as he drifted toward sleep, pausing occasionally from the slow, deep rhythm of his sucking. She glanced at Mycroft who had shifted from his crouch in front of the fire until he was facing them. "I don't think he's impressed."

Mycroft's lips twitched. "Your breasts have him mesmerized."

"Something he shares with his father?"

"Mmm," he said, rising to his feet, then stooped to kiss her upturned face. "But they're off limits to me for the time being so no flirting."

"I don't flirt," she said indignantly.

"Yes you do," Mycroft drawled as he dropped into the chair beside them, rested his clasped hands on his stomach, and stretched his legs out with a deep sigh. "I didn't say I dislike it," he added in a deeper tone.

Molly flushed at the look he gave her, lowered her eyes to the now-sleeping baby, and adjusted her clothing. "I'm taking Michael up. Would you like me to fix you a drink or make some tea when I come down?"

Mycroft declined her offer, then watched the two of them leave before reaching for his book. He was reading when Molly returned to the study and deliberately nudged his knee as she set the baby monitor on the side table. He looked up, brows raised, then put the book down when she pointed at his lap.

Once Molly had levered herself onto his knees and wrapped her arms around his neck, Mycroft slid his hands around her hips. "Thank you for giving me Michael," she whispered, pressing closer as she kissed his jaw.

Mycroft huffed as he stared into the fire over her shoulder. "Why do you say these things, Molly? It's the other way around entirely. My role in creating him was extremely limited, and the relatively little amount of time and effort my contribution took was entirely my pleasure, I assure you."

Molly abruptly straightened, briefly studied his expression, then sank back against him, deciding not to pursue that point further. "Yes, well," she said, nestling her head in the crook of his neck and fingering the buttons on his waistcoat, "thank you for misunderstanding the concept of 'friends with benefits'."

He cocked his head so he could see her better. "What do you mean?"

She raised hers to stare at him earnestly. "You didn't leave it for me to call you late some night when I was, um … you know. You invited me to stay for the weekend."

He pursed his lips as he leaned his head against the back of the chair. "As I was unlikely to be available to respond to such an 'emergency' call, I thought we might as well get on with it."

Molly shoved him with her shoulder, flushing. "Mycroft!"

The corners of Mycroft's lips turned up in amusement. "Molly, my darling … you can be adorably oblivious at times. I knew what 'friends with benefits' meant – or did by the time I came to your flat. That kind of arrangement didn't appeal to me at all as it was entirely too hit-and-miss. If we were going to be intimate, having something like an old-fashioned affair seemed far more suited to our respective situations."

"You mean you planned an affair from the start?"

"Planned?" He looked thoughtful. "No, but I knew the haphazard, on-call type of arrangement you proposed wasn't practical with my work schedule." He looked at her more seriously. "Mind you, I didn't foresee sentiment evolving as it did. I believed we could enjoy being with each other, but I didn't think myself capable of falling in love." He pressed his forehead against hers before continuing more softly, "And now you've drawn me into the kind of conversation you promised I wouldn't have to –" He sighed, then dropped a quick kiss on her lips and lifted her chin with his forefinger. "Mrs. C's left for the night, Michael may sleep for an hour or two …," he paused significantly, holding her eyes.

"Yes?" she said, rather breathlessly.

"So I should get back to the work I need to complete," he finished matter-of-factly.

"Oh, of course," Molly pushed away and sat up, then squeaked when he took hold of her upper arms and pulled her into a deep kiss. She moaned when he dipped her further sideways against his forearm and bent more closely over her.

Mycroft finally raised his head, breathing faster than normal but looking pleased with himself. "Or we could snog for a while."

Molly just stared at him, feeling flustered and not a little bit horny. "You know how much I love kissing you," she finally said, "but it's madness to work ourselves up like this."

"Anticipation of pleasure is, in itself, a very considerable pleasure," he quoted, bending to nuzzle her neck, then added. "David Hume, 'A Treatise of Human Nature'."

"Surely not when it leaves you with such an erection," Molly said, tentatively fingering the button on his trousers. "Mycroft, please let me –"

"No my dear, not without you," he said, covering her hand. "I can wait. Come on, kiss me again."

Molly stared at him for a few moments, then slowly smiled and slid her hands around his neck. They finally broke apart, breathing heavily, and Molly pressed her cheek to Mycroft's chest, smiling at the feel of his heart thrumming under her ear. The silence was finally broken when Molly murmured, "I must be cutting off circulation to your legs."

"That's all right," Mycroft murmured back. "All the blood's gone elsewhere anyway."

Molly didn't catch that for a moment, then she stifled a giggle and sat up. "All the more reason to get off your lap and let you recover."

He promptly slid his hands lower on her hips and pulled her back against him. "Or we could sit in front of the fire like an old married couple and let it resolve itself."

"I know for a fact that an old married couple is just as likely to make out before the fire as a younger one," she said, lips curving as she paused. "I mean, consider your parents ..."

Mycroft groaned. "If you wanted to kill the mood, congratulations."

Molly snorted, then sat up and reached for the baby monitor when she heard a snuffling noise. "Michael's awake," she said, stretching a foot to the floor and sliding off Mycroft's lap. "Are you coming?"

"Not for another two weeks or so," Mycroft said drily.

Molly flushed, then grinned to herself as she turned away and headed upstairs to Michael.

#####

Third Saturday in June, The Cottage

The brothers were standing shoulder-to-shoulder, hands in pockets, looking out of their parents' kitchen window. Mycroft, Molly and the baby had come down the previous evening, but Sherlock had just arrived. At Violet's edict they were to have a late lunch al fresco to take advantage of the weekend's unusually spectacular weather. She and Siger were setting the large, rectangular picnic table they'd recently acquired, and Molly was chatting with them from the garden bench where she was nursing five-weeks-old Michael under a brightly patterned baby's blanket.

"Caring is not an advantage, you said."

Mycroft, his mouth set in a firm line, did a half-turn toward Sherlock and studied his brother's profile. "I was wrong, Sherlock." His brother's head turned and their eyes met and held as Mycroft continued, "Caring for the right person, the right people, can be a great advantage." Mycroft lifted his hand to rest on his brother's shoulder. "And being cared for by them, being loved, is the greatest advantage of all." Sherlock blinked a few times as their gazes continued to hold, then Mycroft squeezed Sherlock's shoulder and dropped his hand. Sherlock didn't reply but his eyes followed Mycroft as he walked to the back door, opened it and paused at the threshold with his hand on the doorknob. "Are you coming, little brother?"

Sherlock's eyes slid to where his laptop sat on the kitchen table, then rested again on his brother's back, which visibly tensed as the silence continued. He shifted to look out the window at his father, who was now sprawled in a lawn chair. His mother had joined Molly on the bench and was talking animatedly to her while holding his nephew.

"Sherlock?"

"Yes Mikey ... I believe I am." Sherlock was still smirking when he came abreast of Mycroft in the open doorway. Before the younger man knew what was happening, his brother pounced. "What the hell are you doing?" Sherlock struggled to free himself from the chokehold Mycroft had around his throat, his fingers trying to pry the surprisingly muscular forearm away from his neck.

"Little brother, if you ever call me that again, I won't be responsible for my actions." Mycroft tightened his hold briefly. "Understand?"

"You do like to be a drama queen," Sherlock snarled. "Get off!" They both froze upon spotting Violet heading their way. When Mycroft abruptly dropped his arm, Sherlock gave him a quick shove, then they both turned innocent faces toward their mother.

Violet sighed as she stopped on the doorstep and looked from one to the other suspiciously, but then her expression lightened. "Sherlock? Come see Mikey." She turned and went back down the path without waiting for him to reply.

Mycroft scowled when Sherlock chuckled in delight and edged past him to trail after their mother. He watched glumly as his infuriating, pestilent, vexatious, irksome, maddening … arse of a little brother reached Molly, clapped his hands with great enthusiasm and reached for the baby. "Just look how you've grown, Mikey," Sherlock trilled, cradling Michael against him as he turned in a slow circle and threw Mycroft a taunting glance from under his brows.

Caring might have its advantages, Mycroft thought, but it can be bloody inconvenient. And damned annoying.

Mycroft finally released a long breath through his nose, and his gaze shifted to Molly. Their eyes met and held for several moments before she tilted her head toward Sherlock, rolled her eyes dramatically and finished with a comical grimace, and Mycroft felt a wave of pure affection for her. He didn't question his love for Molly – it was now a constant, a bedrock – but sometimes her place in their lives could still take him aback. There was something unexpected, something inexplicable, about how Molly simply fit. She was his best friend, his lover, his partner, but at times it was as if she'd always been there, always been part of the Holmes family.

Mycroft lost awareness of anything but Molly as he continued to study her. Then Molly took Michael back, cuddling him against her breasts, and gave Mycroft the kind of smile that started as a sweet curve of her lips and widened until her face glowed and her eyes seemed lit from within. Mycroft held her gaze a few moments longer, then slowly returned her smile, pulled the door closed behind him and went to join his family.