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Emotional Context

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                All three men sat in silence.  They were all exhausted mentally and physically.  Eurus had run the gauntlet of their emotions from one end to the other.  Both Sherlock and Mycroft looked around the ruins of the old Holmes home.  There were memories around every corner; some good, some not so good and some horrific.  John sat silently observing the two brothers.  He wondered what was next for this family.  All he wanted to do right this moment was go home and hug Rosie.  The past 24 hours of events had drained him of almost every emotion he possessed.

                Mycroft cleared his throat and spoke, “The helicopter will be here in fifteen minutes.  I’ve taken the liberty of ordering three cars.  I’m sure we all have things we would like to check on and see to once back in London.

                “Good,” Sherlock stood “I need to head to NSY upon arrival.”

                “Sherlock,” John’s tired voice broke his concentration.  “You need to go see Molly first.”

                “Indeed he does,” Mycroft said raising himself to his full height.  He straightened his vest and fixed his cuffs.  “That was the entire reason behind the car I’m offering.  Sherlock, you must see her first thing!”

                “No, I don’t need to see her upon arrival.  I will see her when I’m ready to see her.  I’m sure once you explain things to her she will understand.  Then I can go see her, besides I’m sure she doesn’t wish to see me at this time.”  He looked down at the cuts and bruises on his hand.  His mind flashed back to that moment and he flinched a little recalling all those long dormant emotions coming to life within him.  The first time he said it, it was only to win the game and to save Molly.  The second time he said I Love you; he was startled to find he meant it. 

                “You want me to go console her and bring her up to speed on the entire situation?”  Mycroft asked almost in disbelief.

                “Well, you and your team will be there first to disengage the cameras and double check for explosives.  Mycroft considering that you are at fault for this entire mess, I’d expect you to do this for me.”  Sherlock looked cold and deadly serious.

                “Brother mine, this is a delicate matter.  You both proclaimed your love to one another.  She will expect you to be at that door, not I.”

                “I proclaimed nothing!  I said what I had to say to save her life.  You above all people should understand this Mycroft! This was all a game and I won!”  With that he walked away from Mycroft and John.  Both men looked at one another. 

                “This isn’t a game to Molly,” John muttered.

                “Indeed not,” Mycroft said as he went after Sherlock. 

                Once onboard the helicopter no words were spoken.  Each had seen enough in the last 24 hours to last a life time.  Each had their demons to deal with.  Upon arrival at the London airstrip, they made their way to their perspective cars.

                “Sherlock!”  He turned to face John.  “Sherlock, you need to go see Molly, this wasn’t a game to her.  She is no doubt devastated.  You need to fix this now, not later.  You owe her that much.”

                “John, I cannot fix something that I don’t quite understand myself at the moment.  I will see her, but just not now.  I need to deal with Victors remains.  Not to mention the chat Mycroft and I need to have with our parents.  It will not be easy telling them that their daughter is still alive and a murderous psychopath.” 

                “Fine, but don’t let it lie to long.  You’ve known her for 8 years.  She has saved your life on more than one occasion.  I would hate for you to lose her.” John turned and walked back to his car.

                Once inside his car Sherlock sat back and finally allowed himself to relive the phone call with Molly.  He had told Mycroft it was all about the game, but even he knew he was lying to himself.  He had become aware of his feelings for Molly almost a year ago.  He had started asking her round for dinner and experiments.  He had even requested she go with him during cases.  He felt they were finally in a good place as friends and that was all he ever intended them to be.  But somewhere along the way she worked her way into his mind and a newly discovered heart he claimed he didn’t have.  He knew before this was all over he would have to sit down and figure out what he wanted from Molly and if he could give her what she needed.  One thing was for sure, losing her was not an option now.

 

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH

 

                Mycroft sat in his car for a good thirty minutes before he made any attempt to step out and knock on Molly’s door.  He was not good with people and he was upset that his brother had put him in this situation.  No doubt she would be hurt and angry.  How does one handle an emotional female?  He gave a sigh and decided to be as delicate as he knew how to be.  He lifted his hand and tapped three times on her door.  After a few moments the door was slowly opened and Molly stood there with tear stained cheeks and very red eyes. 

                “Mycroft?  What are you doing here?  What’s happened?”  Her voice was hoarse and at a whisper.

                “Miss Hooper, I apologize for the intrusion.  I know this is not an ideal time to call, but I can assure you it is most urgent and important.  I will require you to come with me. “He held out his hand to her.

                “Why?”  She asked with a cautious look.  Just then she saw two black vans pull up behind Mycroft and several men got out.

                “These men work for me Miss Hooper and they need to search your home.  Please believe me when I say it is for your own safety.  Please come with me and I will be happy to elaborate and answer any questions you may have.”  Once again he held out his hand to her.  She finally took it and he led her to his car.    

                “This has something to do with Sherlock and that phone call doesn’t it?”

                “Yes, it does. “He climbed in next to her and closed the door.

                For almost an hour they sat in that car and spoke.  He told her the entire story and left nothing out.  He explained that Sherlock had made that call to save her life.  Once he was finished he turned to observe Molly’s face.  She eyed him carefully and she finally took a long, shaky breath in.

                “Mycroft, thank you for coming her and explaining the entire story.  Thank you for having your men take care of my flat.  Please don’t think I’m ungrateful, but why didn’t…” she trailed off and looked out the window.

                “Why didn’t Sherlock come himself?”  He finished for her. She shook her head yes.

                “Molly, may I call you Molly?  My brother is processing a lot right now.  I believe he meant his words to an extent and I believe that he is trying to process what that exactly means to him.  Please be patient with him Molly.  He will come and see you once he has things figured out in his head.”

                She gave him a slight smile and shook her head that she understood.  “Mycroft, how are you fairing?”

                He looked at her with rather shocked eyes.  No one had bothered to ask how he was dealing with all of this.  Now here sat this slip of a woman and she truly wanted to know if he was ok.  He shifted in his seat a little taken back by the warm feeling spreading inside him. “Thank you for your concern Molly, but I’m processing it all quiet well.”

                She eyed him coolly.  “Are you sure?  This is a lot to process.”

                “Ah, it appears they are finished with your flat Molly.”  With that he quickly exited the car and helped her out. 

                “Take care of yourself Mycroft.  I know you do all you do for Sherlock because you care about him, but you need to care for yourself as well.  Thank you again.”

                She held out her hand to him and he gently took it and said his good byes.  He needed to leave and go home.  Sherlock wasn’t the only one who needed to process the events of the last 24 hours.