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“Do you want to go back inside? It’s a bit chilly now that the sun has gone down.”
Molly looked over at Mycroft and shook her head. “No. I’d like to stay out here. I’m fine."
Secretly Mycroft was very relieved by Molly’s answer. He didn’t really want to go back inside to Mrs Hudson’s birthday party.
If asked, neither would be able to explain how they had come to be alone in the small tidy garden behind 221B Baker Street and neither wanted to break whatever fragile spell they had fallen under.
Seeing goosebumps appear on Molly’s shoulders Mycroft sluffed off his suit jacket and draped it over her shoulders. Molly sighed and relaxed into the warmth of the jacket as she slipped her arms into the sleeves.
Somewhere deep in the party Sherlock began to play a gentle waltz on his violin. It was one of Sherlock’s usual tunes and Molly began to absent mindedly hum.
Wordlessly Mycroft slid his hand under his jacket and around Molly’s waist, pulling her close while taking her other hand and tucking it in to him. Her head came to rest on his chest over his thumping heart. The pair began to gently sway in time to the music savouring the warmth of the other.
Letting his gaze return to the party Mycroft’s eyes met Sherlock’s. The younger Holmes was standing in the far corner of the flat. He gave Mycroft a wink without breaking his neutral expression.
"I can’t keep you out here a moment longer. You will catch your death,” whispered Mycroft into the top of Molly’s head.
Molly’s protests were stopped by a gentle kiss. “My car is in the alley. Follow me.”
After the waltz ended Sherlock looked towards the garden and saw only Mrs Hudson's beloved hydrangeas.