Chapter Text
Molly wandered around the tennis courts recalling all those nights sitting up in the trees watching as Sherlock charmed beautiful socialites. He danced with them around the tennis court, making them feel special. He maybe a sociopath, but he was high functioning. He knew the right things to say and do around someone he wanted to charm, whether the said person was male or female. They would twirl around the dance floor, their bodies so close together, their cheeks touching. Molly never realized he courted these people for other reasons. They could grant him access to certain restricted areas, or they were a key link to a mystery he was trying to solve. There was always a means to an end for him, and he always got what he wanted. He charmed his way into their hearts for a reason other than love. All Molly saw was love and romance.
She always had to drag herself away from watching due to the tears that would fill her eyes. Now she was here, he was going to dance with her and twirl her around. She wanted it to be perfect. She wanted to laugh at his jokes and feel the wind around her while they spinned to a romantic song played by the band. She couldn’t wait to taste the champagne that he had brought for her. The glasses in the back pockets would be brought out and filled. He would make a toast to them. Maybe he would toast to their new found connection, or maybe the beautiful night. Maybe he would admit that he was wrong to ignore her for all these years and he would beg for her forgiveness.
She heard clinking of glasses coming towards the tennis court and found herself ferreting up the umpire seat that sat in the middle of the tennis court. She was going to think of something clever to say when she saw him. Maybe she would comment on the beautiful stars or the lovely band. But to her shock and disappointment the man with the glasses was not Sherlock, but rather Mycroft Holmes.
“What are you doing here?” Molly asked when she looked down at him from the umpire seat. She looked past him hoping that she would see Sherlock in the distance making his way towards her.
“Sherlock sent me” Mycroft said to her as he placed the glasses down on a table and popped the champagne open.
“Isn’t he coming?” Molly asked still a little hopeful.
“Ah, Dr. Hooper, it seems he is… shall I say tied up with other matters at the moment”
“And you are here to get rid of me” Molly responded plainly.
“Nothing of the sort, Molly. May I call you Molly”
“Of course you can” she responded quickly, “but if you aren’t here to get rid of me, what are you doing here?”
“Would you like a drink?” Mycroft asked lifting her glass and bringing it to her, “Why don’t you come down”
“No” she responded but still she climbed down the chair and took the glass.
Mycroft eyed her as he took a small sip of the champagne. Not too bad he thought before he set down his glass.
“I have a message from Sherlock” he told her as he took her untouched glass and placed it on the table next to his.
He took her hand and began dancing with her. In the background Molly heard the band play a slow song. A perfectly romantic tune played while they silently moved around the empty tennis court.
“Why couldn’t Sherlock come?” Molly asked him as Mycroft expertly twirled her around.
“Well he found himself in a predicament with a set of champagne glasses, and now Dr. Watson is fixing him up”
“Oh no!” Molly said dropping Mycroft’s hand, “Can I see him?”
“He’s under lots of medication right now, it would be fruitless” Mycroft told her as he took her hands back into his and continued to twirl her around.
“Was there anything else to Sherlock’s message?” Molly asked hoping he had asked for her to call on him later.
“Ah yes” Mycroft said before hesitating slightly. He leaned over and kissed her, which she quickly pulled away.
“What are you doing?!” Molly spluttered at him.
“Merely giving you the rest of his message” he responded emotionless. He was answered with a good smack across the cheek. Molly looked livid before she bolted out of the tennis court and towards the garage.
Mycroft didn’t touch his cheek or make any gesture towards his stinging cheek. He knew he deserved the smack He probably deserved more than she gave him. He sighed before turning back towards the house. He knew that he had to get rid of her, but he had too much respect for Hooper to just send her a blank check. A plan would have to be formed for both Sherlock and Molly to come out unscathed, and hopefully his cheeks will escape further assault.