#cabin!lock

"Did you say Sherlock, as in Sherlock Holmes?" He asked, eyebrows lifting. Molly's eyes narrowed as she zeroed in on his uniform. It looked real enough, the bronzed Ctpn. Crieff badge polished on his jacket, and he looked rather put together. He wasn't toting a Belstaff and she hadn't heard any of the Watson's ranting and raving yet, so she nodded slowly. 

"I'm sorry, let me introduce myself properly, if I may, over a cup of coffee. I'm Martin Crieff."

After getting his coffee from the girl behind the counter, Martin sat in the chair across from her in a decidedly Un-Sherlock-like fashion. One leg over the other, foot bouncing a little, but decidedly much more calm than she'd ever seen him be in any situation that involved social interaction. She stared at him openly and wondered his she had finally been driven off her cliff of insanity.

"You must be horribly confused, I'm not surprised that you've mistaken me for my brother, we do loo-" 

"Brother? I've met his brother, and believe me, you do not look like him."

Martin gave a lopsided grin and Molly could see the slight twinge of hurt in his eyes that flickered by. "You've met Mycroft then?

"Yes, yes, I have." Molly said slowly, taking a sip of her tea. "So what you mean to tell me is that you're the other brother then?"

Again, Martin smiled and nodded his head and taking a delicate sip of his coffee. "That would be me, the goldfish."

"I- I'm sorry? Goldfish?" She sputtered giving a disbelieving laugh. Everything about this entire situation was unbelievable.

"Er, the plain one. Average, so to speak." The tip's of Martin's ears flushed red and the color soon followed down his jawline and he ducked his head a little. Molly didn't need the science of deduction to tell that it was a tender subject, so she moved past it.

"So Crieff is..."

"My mother's maiden name. It's a bit easier accepting your faults with a bit more grace when you're not associated with someone who is always in the press and... a small position in the British government."

Molly scoffed and Martin's lips quirked into a grin as he took another sip of his coffee. 

"We both know that's not true."

He chuckled and set down his cup with a shrug before settling into his chair completely. "So where are you going to hide from my brother? You're probably long over due for a proper holiday."

Her phone buzzed on the table surface and they both rolled their eyes at the sight of Sherlock's name flashing on the screen. "Speak of the devil and he may come."

Molly smiled apologetically as she answered the phone, her brow knitting as she tried to pull together Sherlock's quick speech. After some heated back and forth, Molly smacked her phone back on the counter.

"I have no doubt that Sherlock is on his way over here. God, I can't even just have a holiday!" She moaned, burying her face into her hands. Martin hm'ed sympathetically while tapping on the rim of his cup.

"Forgive me for poking my nose in your business, but I'm heading back to Wokingham. I have a spare room, if you don't mind staying in Wokingham for your holiday. I grantee that it's the last place Sherlock would think to look. After all, the chances of us running into each other." Martin lowered his eyebrows and his voice. "The universe is rarely so lazy."

Molly laughed at his spot on impersonation and eyed him again.

"Not a murder?" Martin shook his head.

"Not a sociopath?" Another shake.

"Not a criminal mastermind at the head of a massive criminal networking?" 

Martin blinked at her slowly before dissolving into laughter. "Oh Miss. Hooper, who exactly have you been dating? No, I live in Wokingham for God's sake. The most scandalous thing I've done in awhile is leave the bin on the curb for too long." He gave her a grin, standing from his chair and offering his arm. "I'd be pleased to allow you to have a proper holiday."

Molly thought it over. What did she really have to lose?