A/N: This is being written to fill a prompt by SimplyShelbs16:

"Do you want me to leave?"
"I am not losing you again!"

Therefore, it is dedicated to SimplyShelbs16.

I'm not sure where the rating will end up on this, but for now let's call it a hard T.

Everyone knew the Holmes family was obscenely rich. Everyone also knew the Holmes brothers were cold and calculating, but never cruel.

No, Dr. Molly Hooper thought. To be cruel, you have to hate something. To hate something, you have to be capable of emotion.

Molly's father and the elder Holmes brother, Mycroft, were arranging a marriage between herself and the younger brother, Sherlock. Mr. Hooper told her he was satisfied with the knowledge that when his time came, his only child would not be alone. Sherlock, for his part, would achieve a level of respectability he could never hope to obtain as a bachelor.

Not that respectability matters to him, she thought, but it will make his family and Dr. Watson breathe a little easier.

The first meeting between the prospective couple had been, needless to say, an unpromising one. Molly was now on her way to their second meeting at Musgrave Hall, the Holmes family's country estate. Mycroft and Sherlock's parents had invited her and her father to spend the weekend with them and her father had insisted they go. As the scenery passed outside the carriage, Molly sat back and thought about their first meeting.

She and her father took a hansom to Sherlock's building on Baker Street. Mycroft had assured them that, despite his brother's irregular working hours, the younger Holmes would be in residence that day. After the amicable landlady escorted them upstairs, Molly found herself in a very masculine sitting room, face-to-face with the unequivocally male Sherlock Holmes.

As in, walking around his flat completely nude.

Oh my… she thought as she saw his perfectly-shaped buttocks. It seems the younger Holmes is quite the specimen.

With his back to them, Sherlock didn't notice them at first; he was too busy fiddling with something on the mantle. Then he turned and Molly was struck by two sights: his incredibly handsome face and his impressive manhood.

She couldn't help it, she gaped at him. Sherlock lived up to his stoic reputation, his eyes widening only slightly when he saw her.

Her father immediately tried to cover her eyes. Molly, despite her unmarried status and complete lack of experience in sexual matters, refused to let him; she had seen plenty of unclothed men, albeit deceased ones, in the morgue she worked at.

"Sherlock Holmes!" Mycroft bellowed, having just arrived. "Put your trousers on!"

Sherlock shook his head a bit as if to clear it. "Er, yes, quite," he muttered.

Molly averted her eyes as he walked past them and out of the sitting room, but she knew the sight of every blessed inch of William Sherlock Scott Holmes would stay with her for a very long time.

"You needn't concern yourself, my girl," Mr. Hooper said, jarring her out of her thoughts. "Mycroft has assured me that his brother will be on his very best behavior this time."

"I'm sure he will be, Papa," she said, gently patting his hand. Her father went back to his reading and she went back to her thoughts.

Once Sherlock returned fully-dressed, Mycroft insisted that he apologize for his indecency. Sherlock ignored him in favor of sitting a respectful distance beside Molly on the settee. Molly found the scent of his citrus-and-sandalwood cologne to be irresistible, and she did her best not to let her sudden interest show on her face. The younger Holmes brother was famous throughout London for his rather cutting deductions and the last thing she wanted was to be in the line of fire.

Sherlock smirked. "It appears this will be quite a trade, Dr. Hooper – my family's money for your family's respectability."

For the second time that day, Molly gaped at him. "I assure you, Mr. Holmes, we are not in need of your money. My father simply wants someone to take care of me-"

"After he's gone," Sherlock finished. "That might be what he told you, but one look at him tells me that he cares far more about not leaving you with any debts." He turned to her father, who was sitting in the nearby chair. "Gambling, is it? The so-called 'debt of honor.'" Sherlock turned back to Molly. "A debt to a tradesman can be ignored by 'polite' society, despite the financial ruin it brings to the tradesman. But a gambling debt to another 'gentleman'? They must be paid or the debtor will lose face."

Molly desperately turned to her father. "Please, Papa, tell him it isn't true! Tell him you would never be so irresponsible!"

Her father looked away. "I cannot," he said quietly. "Mr. Holmes is right, I lost a great deal of money at cards. If you do not marry him, we will lose everything."

She turned to Sherlock, her shock turning to anger. "Why could you not keep that deduction to yourself? There was no need to tell me."

"I would much rather have you marry me with your eyes open," Sherlock said. "With no love between us, I wish to avoid all other illusions as well."

The memory ceased as she felt the carriage slow to a stop. There is certainly no love between us, Mr. Holmes, she thought bitterly as she stepped out of the carriage with the aid of a footman.

Molly looked up at the imposing manor that was to be her home for the next three days.

"Welcome to Musgrave Hall."