There was an awful lot of commotion coming from Molly's flat. Loud music, glassware clinking and now and then some kind of thumping following by hysterical laughter.

"Oh my Lawks, 'Thea, you're going to break something!"

"No I'm not shut up!"

"I wish you'd just wait for Sherlock to come over, he's tall enough, he can hang them up when he comes over tomorrow-"

This was met by a chorus of whistles and shrieking noises.

"Oh shut up!" Molly shouted, laughing.

John, Mycroft and Sherlock stood on the stairway leading up to Molly's flat.

"Sounds like a hen party," John said at last.

"For…what?" Mycroft asked, still staring at the door, quite unused to his wife making crass jokes…or talking about his posterior outside of their bedroom, and to other ladies.

"That's more than I care to hear about your bottom, brother-mine."

"Well now we know," John said, shutting his eyes with a shrug. "Everyone agrees you have a fit bottom, that can also be described as 'cute' and 'perky', Mycroft," he slapped him on the shoulder and went on up the stairs.

"You don't mean you're actually going up there!" Mycroft gasped.

"Look, Mary texted me, it must've been important. What are you doing here anyways?"

Both Holmes brothers shifted, trying to square their shoulders in the narrow hall.

"Molly texted me."

"I received a text from my wife," they both answered at once, then glanced at each other.

"Well then…maybe they need ice or a snacks, and nobody wants to drive or get dressed or something."

"Get dressed?!" Mycroft again looked alarmed.

"Yeah," John said, pausing at the door. "Girls do that. They'll hang out in their pants all day if they like…doesn't Anthea do that?"

Mycroft couldn't speak, eyes glazed over somewhat.

"Molly does that sometimes," Sherlock volunteered.

John gave a 'there you go' nod to him and then knocked on the door.

"Oh I told you!"

"You haven't checked yet!"

"Ten to one it's John-"

There was a ruckus as they all went running across the flat, and fairly ripped the door open. The three of them stood there, half-dressed, Mary and Molly had rollers in their hair, and Anthea was blowing on her nails. Clearly, all of them had been drinking.

"Who did we say wins if all three came at the same time?" Molly asked.

"We do, because we'll send them for food," Mary said, and reached for her wallet, pulling out a wad of cash. "Kebab shop is fine! You boys get something for yourselves to eat as well!" with that the door shut, leaving all three of them once again on the landing, wondering what in the heck was going on.

"Were we just-"

"Played like a fiddle, yep," John nodded, pocketing the money. "Come on, we'll get the girls something to eat, and then I suggest we go and find a pub."

"I concur," Sherlock agreed. "No chip butties though, they make Molly sick."

"Right."

"I…I don't-" Mycroft was still fumbling for words. "How long has this sort of thing been going on?"

"What?" John laughed. "I dunno. Does it matter?"

"Not in the least!" Mycroft replied. "I am only surprised…"

"That Anthea's a woman?"

"No, I've always been quite aware of that,"

"Then what?" Sherlock asked now, curious as to why his brother was so flustered.

"Well, I always knew you two were idiots," Mycroft said. "I never expected that I would fall for something as benign as a 'Come quickly, you're needed', text, when I know for a fact there was nothing urgent about."

"Then why did you come?" John asked. He and Sherlock exchanged grins.

Again, Mycroft looked at them both, weighing the options of telling them the truth or not. Instead he alighted up to the kebab shop door. "Right, so dinner will be on me then," he declared and headed in.

"You think he was hoping for…"

"A booty-call, yes," Sherlock nodded.

"I don't know if I want to let him forget that just yet," John said, laughing.

"Nor do I, leastwise not for the rest of the night…"