Author's Note: I am so sorry it has taken me so long to get back to this story. I hate that that has been the case and I have no excuse suitable to save myself from a much needed public stoning. All I can say is that life got the best of me and buried my creativity alive. But I'm back and I thank you all so much for your lovely reviews of my story. They have been the electricity that has kept my poor creativity limping along until it could be brought back to life.
And just like that Molly Hooper had a date with Mycroft Holmes. The result of which made one Sherlock Holmes smug with satisfaction, after all it was all because of him was it not? And one John Watson just a tiny bit jealous, cause if he had known Molly was hiding legs like that...and when did mister caring is not an advantage start wanting to date anyway?! But that was neither here nor there...
All these facts lead us to our current moment. Sherlock and John were off on a case, he didn't find his brother's love life that interesting thank you very much, Mycroft was busy wrapping up some last minute matter of national importance in order to have his evening free and Molly...oh poor Molly...
Molly was a wreck. She stood in the middle of her closet, hair still wet from the shower, trying to stave off a full on panic attack. "Oh dear heavens I have a date with Mycroft bloody Holmes!" She'd been standing in here for the last forty-five minutes trying to process this very fact. It was still a work in progress. Currently she'd moved on to a more pressing problem. "What am I going to wear?" Molly looked around her closet. Nothing seemed quite right. It all seemed either too professional, this was a date not a business luncheon. Too flirty, she didn't want him to think she threw herself at any man who asked her out. Or too casual, this was Mycroft Holmes, did the man even own any clothing that wasn't a suit? The only upside she could see to this pressing dilemma was the fact that it distracted her from another problem that had been dogging the back of her mind. "What on earth are we going to talk about?" The only topic the young pathologist could think of that she shared with a man who was essentially the British Government was a certain consulting detective and that was the last thing she wanted to discuss on a date. She was pretty sure that talking about a man she had crushed on for years while on a date with said man's brother would seriously dampen any romantic feels the night may or may not contain. And she was hoping it would contain them.
Mycroft was...odd, but whip smart and handsome in his own way. Arrogant but lord knew she'd already proven she could put up with that. She giggled at the thought. She was nervous around him but in a different way than she when she was around Sherlock. With Sherlock it was like being around a star, bright and blazing and you had to constantly fight the irresistible urge to touch him cause you knew you'd get burned if your fingers so much as brushed across one of those cut glass cheekbones. With Mycroft it was more like being in the presence of royalty. He seemed so larger than life, so dark and all encompassing she always had to fight the urge to sink into a curtsy when she was near him. It was funny really, she'd realized over the years that she was comfortable crushing on Sherlock. It was safe, required no effort on her part and after a while there had become a certain level of security in the pattern of her small overtures of affection and his subsequent rejection thereof. There was a solid comfort in knowing that things with him would never change, that he would never return her feelings.
But this, this thing with Mycroft was all new and bold and so far out of her comfort zone that Molly had to forcibly fight the urge to call him and beg off. But she didn't want to fall back into the comfortable familiarity of mousy Molly. Oh she was there, just under the surface, always would be. That Molly was a part of her and it would be foolish to think that she could be forgotten or removed even if she wanted. And she didn't. It may not have been the most ideal of existences but she had some lovely memories that were a part of that self and she wouldn't trade them for all the cool confidence in the world. Nope. Wouldn't happen.
Molly wasn't sure how long she'd been standing there, lost in quiet introspection, clad in nothing but her faded silk dressing gown with her hair slowly drying into soft waves she usually blew out, but the soft ping of her phone startled her out of it. "What now?" She looks at the text on her phone.
Not my favorite means of communication but I thought you would take a text better than a call this time so here it is. In the future expect to hear my voice. Wear the emerald green peasant dress, minimal jewelry if any at all and the strappy silver sandals. Keep your hair down with nothing but combs to keep it off your face and leave the waves, you will look quite fetching and not at all out of place for our dinner destination. Do not fear over the conversation, I am quite certain we will have more to talk about than my dear brother. And lastly, do try to breath Ms. Hooper. I am in no doubt that I will enjoy your company tonight and I will endeavor to ensure you enjoy mine as well. MH
"Oh dear god that's creepy as all hell!" Molly sunk to the floor of the closet in stunned surprise. She should have known, didn't he keep track of everyone? Hadn't she always been aware on some level that she'd been monitored for as long as she'd known Sherlock? But this was the first time he'd ever used such surveillance to give her advice and she couldn't deny she suddenly felt as if eyes were on her. Not a comfortable feeling. With shaky hands she texted back.
Dear heavens Mycroft are you watching me? Like right now?! So not acceptable! Oh god I feel so embarrassed. Maybe tonight isn't a good idea. If I had thought you'd be like this... MH
Mycroft instantly realized his mistake and nearly cursed. He should have been aware that contacting her the way he had would not have had the desired effect of soothing Ms. Hooper, but rather quite the opposite. Of course he had unsettled the poor woman. No one appreciated having the knowledge they were being watched thrown in their face, hadn't Anthea told him so repeatedly. Perhaps there was still a way to fix his stunning faux pas. He quickly texted back, cursing his rustiness with the opposite sex.
Ms. Hooper I must beg your forgiveness for overstepping myself. I assure you my dear I am not indeed watching you at this very moment. I have however as you must already know been observing you over the years of your acquaintance with my brother and have learned something of your personality and behavior. I believed you may be having some second thoughts and some anxiety about our date and merely wished to settle your nerves. It has been some time since I have attempted to have a personal relationship and I fear I am a bit out of my element in this regard. I have handled the situation rather poorly but would still like to be able to see you. I do hope you will change your mind and do not make me cancel our reservations. Sincerely apologetic MH
Mycroft waited for a reply for so long he was almost certain he'd ruined his chances with the lovely pathologist. He sighed heavily and was about to call the restaurant to cancel when his phone beeped.
The emerald green dress huh? Alright, but could you try to...not that I want you to be less you but rather...less creepy you maybe. I don't know. See you soon. Suddenly wary MH
Mycroft sighed with relief, getting up from his desk to grab his coat and head for the door, his smile almost scaring his receptionist as he walks by. Beatrice he believed her name was, he'd have to check with Anthea, had been with him for several years and had never seen her employer in such a jovial mood. She had to bite back the urge to ask him if he'd felled a small country while on lunch. Instead she just watches him leave in stunned silence.
Molly was a flurry of activity after her last text, pulling the dress from the hanger and tossing on her bed as she pulled on her undergarments. She slipped the dress on quickly and slid into the flats he had suggested before following the rest of his veiled commands, thinking about the man she was about to dine with. Perhaps she was crazy for still seeing him after the stunt he's pulled but he'd been quick to ask forgiveness and she could certainly understand having been out of the dating scene. She wasn't exactly a social butterfly at the best of times but after Jim well...yeah. And so she busies herself with making herself as presentable as she's able and when she hears a car pull up she walks outside to find a rather dashing looking Mycroft stepping out of a sleek, dark sedan. He pauses when he sees her. "I was right Ms. Hooper. Very fetching indeed." He gives her a small smile as he steps forward to escort her to the car. "Thank you Molly, for giving me a second chance." She looks up at him with those big doe eyes of hers and smiles softly. "How could I deny us both a second chance Mycroft?" With that she slips into the car and he slides in after her. "Shall we then?" And with that he raps smartly on the glass separating them from the driver and they're off.
Author's note: I know it's not their date like it was supposed to be but all the pre-date angst took so long I had to break it up into two pieces. Chapter 9 I promise. And you'll get it much sooner as well I swear on it. I'm back in the habit again. And remember, for every review you leave a plot bunny gets his wings. Long live flying plot bunnies!