Disclaimer: I own nothing of Sherlock BBC.

Get out of my house, you reptile

Well, Mycroft Holmes had heard much worse but then again those people who dared to insult him all ended up dead. The British Government quickly recovered and as per Mrs Hudson's request, left 221B. "Good day." He is still a gentleman with manners, monster or not. Mycroft was well informed about the nature of his job before he accepted it – confidential, dirty and most importantly, thankless. Over the years, the British Government mastered the skill of indifference. The means to peace is never peaceful, it is bloody and ugly nonetheless someone had to do it and that fell on his shoulders.

Mycroft learned to block out the images and stop recurring nightmares yet it does not mean that they are fully exorcised but merely under lock and key, tucked away in a remote corner of his mind. The British Government's personal demons. Mycroft admits that there are times when he felt it was all too much for him to handle. Power and responsibility come hand in hand. It is a lethal combination that had fallen many great men and women throughout the long history of mankind and one day it would be his turn too. Just not today.

Iceman

Devil

The I-wish-you-would-fucking-go-to-hell brother

Reptile

All these names do not matter to him so long Great Britain is well, so long Sherlock is. However if years of experience as the British Government still could not soften the impact of those words then maybe a good whisky would.

"Mycroft? Are you…alright?"

Pulled out of his thoughts by a feminine voice, Mycroft looked up and found Molly Hooper looking back at him with a worried expression. Once again, the pathologist had caught him at a vulnerable moment.

"Did you forget that today is our weekly meet up at the Diogenes Club? Do you need me to leave you alone instead? We could do this some other time…" Mycroft shook his head, "Stay. Your company is much desired, Molly," and the pathologist sat down on a chair beside his. It was a comfortable silence between them as the British Government drank his whisky while Molly began to come to a conclusion as to what had happened.

"Apologies, you did not come here to watch me drink," Mycroft said apologetically and set his glass on the table in front of them. "I understand that due to your 'minor' position in the Government, you cannot confide to me about a lot of things but I believe eventually they would come around, he would come around because whatever you did, I know it's for the country and for him." Reaching over for Mycroft's hand, Molly grabbed it and gave a gentle squeeze. "As a citizen of this nation, I thank you for always putting our interests first before your own. Thank you."

The pathologist's hand was warm unlike his. Staring at her kind smile, the British Government wondered to himself why did Sherlock not fall in love with her when it seemed so easy to do it. "Am I really that cold-blooded, Molly?" Words that were absolutely out of character for Mycroft flew out and more surprisingly, the pathologist was not taken aback by his question. "Lips are very sensitive so in order to answer your question properly; I would need to kiss you."

Leaning towards the British Government, Molly whispered to him, "I'm going to kiss you now, Mycroft. Are you going to stop me?" He closed his eyes and replied, "No." Mindful of the other patrons present in the Club, the pair tasted each other as quietly as possible. It was not the most intense or passionate snog Molly ever had but like the double chocolate fudge cake she had baked earlier on for Mycroft, the kiss was filled with decadent goodness. Enough to keep eating it regardless of the consequences.

Although reluctant, Molly broke off the kiss and obediently sat back on her chair as Mycroft slowly returned to normalcy because what just took place was anything but ordinary. Feeling somewhat warm, the British Government tugged at his collar. "Do you still think that you are cold-blooded?" The pathologist asked cheekily and continued, "Because your lips felt very warm to me, Mycroft. So in the future if anyone says otherwise, remember this kiss. Remember what I said."

After the waiter came back with a knife and some utensils, Molly started to cut the cake in slices and rambled about the technical difficulties she encountered when baking it therefore the least Mycroft could do as a fellow cake connoisseur and a friend ("Yes Mycroft, I do see you as a friend") is to finish the entire cake with her, waistline be damned. Gazing at her profile, the British Government felt oddly comforted by Molly's actions, both the kiss and the cake of course.

As a child, Sherlock wanted to be a pirate while Mycroft used to dream of becoming a superhero but ultimately both of them grew out of their childish aspirations. Despite not being able to be a hero, Mycroft could sleep during the night, aware that he did his best as the British Government to keep his country and its people safe including Molly Hooper, one of the most remarkable women Mycroft Holmes ever known.

Author's note: After watching the trailer for Sherlock Season 4, I know I have to write something about that statement. Sorry that it's short but I hope you readers enjoyed it nevertheless!

**To JPark, sorry that I broke your heart with my others stories but as a (self-proclaimed) writer, I'm very honoured that they had such an effect on you *sorry-but-actually-not-very sorry smile* Super pleased that you like this :D

**To Guest, I totally agree with you! Poor Mycroft...fingers crossed that Season 4 will treat him a little better but according to the trailer, I highly doubt so. Still, one can always hope~