A/N: Well, I'll add warnings as I progress into the plot and gain more momentum, but for the moment I'm recommending anyone who dislikes femslash to leave as this is a Mollrene story. I also warn early on that though I've done a little research, my history background is a bit spotty and I'm likely to make mistakes. I also do love Shakespeare…so be ready for some fun playing around with Molly dressed as a man.

The story is set after The Abominable Bride, as though the story from that really did happen. If you haven't seen the episode you might be confused. I do refer to the invisible army as the sisterhood, figuring there wasn't a true name ever given beyond Watson's choice. Hope that makes sense.

This also will not be ACD compliant. Molly is not an ACD character, so I'm not using the typical Sherlock canon at all. I know TAB isn't real, but I still wanted to use the ideas from it, so I hope that doesn't prove too confusing.

Enjoy!

"I believe strength of mind to be one of the noblest gifts that any rational creature, male or female, can possess, and the best measure of our degree of efficiency for working in the cause of truth." John Stuart Mill, 1866

There were days like these that sent her into a spiral of disbelief as to why she'd ever chosen to try to make this work.

Of course, most of the problem revolved around Sherlock bloody Holmes.

He'd brought her yet another body. He was frequently bringing her bodies, but today of all days she just didn't have the patience for it.

Molly groaned as she felt another cramp wash over her body. She should have skipped work today. She should have found a way around this, but honestly there was nothing to be done. It was merely yet another day of cursing the fact that she'd been born a woman instead of a man.

She knew her father had always wished she'd been a son. To her advantage, his unhappiness had caused him to practically raise her as one. Continuing her schooling himself long after the village school turned her out. Molly remembered back to her aunt's scoffing, wondering what business a girl had learning maths or anatomy.

"This is what becomes of a girl without a mother," her father's sister had lamented. "She'll turn out some horrid strong-minded thing. She'll never meet a respectable man."

But her father had insisted, showing her his work as a doctor, encouraging her to learn more about the world around her. He'd told her that there were men in the world unafraid of intelligent and strong-minded women. And Molly had believed him.

As she stood in the morgue watching Sherlock Holmes make a spectacle of himself, she wondered again how much more her naivety would be crushed.

But so much of young Molly was already gone. The girl who'd sat eagerly beside her father and lapped up knowledge, sucking down texts like a starved person devours the smallest morsels. The one who'd been so sure her father was right when he'd said she could live the life she wanted. That societal standards needn't hold her back.

His death had changed all that. The reality that she was an orphan without anyone to care for her. Her lame attempts to find a career, only to realize that no one wanted a girl for anything more than a maid or a clerk. She'd thought about entering in as a nurse, but the work still seemed beneath her talents. Which was when Molly Hooper had disappeared entirely. And Miles Hooper had appeared.

She didn't even really remember when the idea had come. But at some point, it simply occurred to her that to be a man really was the only solution. To forget her womanhood and take on the role of the stronger sex. Enter in as an apprentice and train up to be a doctor. A little chest binding, a costume, a haircut, some facial hair glued to her upper lip. Hardly anyone looked at her for more than a few seconds. No one noticed.

Well…with the exception of Dr. Watson, who was currently eying her with a level of concern.

"All right, Hooper?" he asked.

She restrained a groan and stood up a little straighter in spite of the pain.

"Fine," she muttered. "Is he nearly finished?"

Holmes was still bending over the body, looking at every detail. Molly still couldn't quite understand why. After all, she'd told him what to expect.

"I believe Hooper is experiencing a rather indelicate period," Holmes said from where he was eyeing the corpse. "Are you sure this is poisoning, Hooper? I really had been told it was a heart attack."

"Who is the doctor here?" Molly snapped. "Of course it's poisoning. Anyone can see it. If you really are so doubtful of me then have Dr. Watson examine him for you, but for god's sakes don't stand there and pretend you know more than me because you clearly don't."

"Touchy," Holmes muttered, standing a little straighter and withdrawing. "I do trust your judgement. I was merely asking to clarify. Poison, this is good. A proper murder."

Watson was still watching her. She turned and sent a glare his way to show him she was serious. This was nothing she hadn't handled before.

"You…er…take care of yourself, Hooper," Watson said.

Holmes turned his piercing eyes to her. Molly kept her face stony, even as her heart fluttered wildly at the attention. Here she was, acting like a school girl over the great detective. She couldn't allow this of herself. She turned away before she could give something away in her face.

"Good day, Holmes, Watson," she said lowering her voice a tone before stepping back over to the body.

There footsteps echoed in the corridor. She listened until they had gone before covering the corpse with a sheet. There was a moment where she was left to her thoughts, doing her best not to overwhelm her. She took a deep breath.

"He will never want you," she muttered to herself. "Even now that he knows. You're a fool to chase after him."

"What was that?"

She turned around in horror to find Anderson in the doorway.

"What are you doing?" she managed to ask. "Get back to work!"

Anderson frowned but shuffled back into the room. He glanced at the corpse she'd just covered.

"Did Holmes have anything particularly interesting to say?" he asked. "Or was he as ridiculous as normal?"

"He added very little overall," Hooper said calmly. "But I believe he'll have more to say after he's done some investigating." She thought of those piercing blue eyes and had to shake her head to dislodge the image. "Now, get me another corpse to work on. We have enough to do as it is."

She started into her next job, though she couldn't really concentrate. Anderson scuttled around, doing what needed doing, but even with him nearby Molly found her thoughts turning to Holmes. For a time he'd seemed like the type of man her father had suggested might one day want her as a wife. Someone who would admire her for her intelligence and her education. But she'd been wrong, clearly. Even knowing she was a woman, Holmes hadn't seemed the least bit interested. No matter the hints. No matter the moments she'd tried to make a point of it… nothing.

But perhaps it was better this way. So she could continue her career. A man would only take her away from all of that.

There were footsteps. Molly glanced back in time to see Detective Inspector Lestrade motioning several men in with a body.

"What's this?" she said, wiping her hands on a cloth and turning back to assess him and the half covered corpse.

"A murder victim," Lestrade said, reaching up to wipe his brow. "Or so we suspect. We'd like you to have a look at it right away if you can."

"Fine," Molly muttered, pushing aside her current work and motioning to another table. "Lay it there. Who is it precisely?"

"We're unsure," Lestrade said. "Well…beyond suspecting she's…er…a street-walker if you will."

Molly frowned and lifted the sheet, finding herself faced with a redhead, probably around her own age. The woman was indeed in a poor state of dress. She had a fair amount of paint on her face and mussed hair. But it was the gouges in her abdomen, the brutality behind the killing that struck Molly most.

"Where was she found?" Molly asked, tossing the sheet aside. She pushed the clothing off, baring the bloodied flesh to find several more gouges. Slashes, marks. But alongside that she noted bruises and other older wounds. And what looked like bite marks on her neck.

"Pinch Street," Lestrade said. "About an hour ago. She'd been half concealed in a pile of rubbish. Someone finally noticed her."

"She's probably already been dead for a day," Molly said. "It's a pity she wasn't found sooner. But I'll do my best."

She looked up, catching Lestrade's eye.

"Holmes was just in," she said. "But if you'd like to call him in a second time, I think he'd probably be delighted. You must be puzzled by this…you've gone quite pale."

Lestrade let out a shaky laugh. "Yes, well…after a year ago, all of us are a little nervous to have found another…well…woman dead…in Whitechapel of all places."

Molly straightened. She had worked those cases herself. She realized what he must be referring to.

"You think he's striking again? You think it's the same man?"

"Hard to tell," Lestrade said. "But if the Whitechapel murderer is back…God help us all."

Molly frowned and looked down at the woman, pushing back a lock of hair from her face. The poor woman. Had she realized she was going to die?

"I'll do my best," Molly said. "I'll telegram if there's anything I can give to you. Or would you prefer I send everything straight to Holmes?"

Lestrade grimaced. "Send me a telegram first. I'll decide if this is difficult enough to send to Holmes."

Molly frowned. "You didn't consult him last time, and look what happened. Multiple girls dead."

Lestrade just groaned and shook his head. "I'll let you know. Now, if you wouldn't mind actually doing some work on that instead of just sassing me."

Molly lowered her head and focused in on her work. Lestrade muttered something before heading to the door. She felt another wave of discomfort but did her best to ignore it. What she wouldn't give to be home right now. Spending some time petting Toby and resting in her bed.

But she was distracted from her fantasies by the necklace the woman was wearing.

If Lestrade was right, she'd be a common woman of the streets. However, Molly knew enough to recognize the intricate design of an expensive piece. Gold with a few small jewels in the edges. But what Molly knew probably better than any man would, was that this wasn't just a necklace. It was a locket.

Looking for clues she popped it open, staring down inside at a small photograph.

There was a woman portrayed there. Lovely pale skin, dark hair coiffed up in an elegant style. She was looking into the distance, eyes unfocused. And for a moment Molly simply lost herself examining.

"What's that?"

Molly gasped and pulled her hand back, drawing the locket away with it.

"Nothing," she snapped at Anderson as she tucked the locket out of sight. Couldn't the man ever mind his own business?

"Well, if you don't mind then," Andersson said. "I think my wife would be pleased to have me home at a decent hour this evening. Do you need any help or may I be dismissed?"

Molly waved her hand distractedly. "Go. I'll stay and finish up this one."

Anderson nodded and went to hang up his apron.

There was a moment where she could hear his footsteps. And then the world was silent once again. Leaving her alone with the bodies.

She imagined some women might be frightened. Disliking the prospect of being alone in a dark room with corpses. But she had long since abandoned any feelings of fear. There was merely the familiarity of her work. The comfort of knowing she was doing something valuable, and that no one could tell her to stop.

Molly delved into the details she could, examining each cut, poking at each bruise. Her eyes strayed to the bite mark on the neck, shuddering at the mere thought. These things were certainly indelicate. But there were moments she had to push past her sense of decency and continue. After all, what was more decent than finding this woman's killer?

She was just pulling the sheet back up when a noise startled her.

Molly turned to look towards the door, surprised to find it empty. The room was dark, only a few torches left to light the dim corners.

With a biting curse she turned back to lifting the sheet. It was late. She needed to get some rest. Any longer and she'd start hallucinating. Jumping at nothing like a child! She should have long since outgrown these urges.

However, just as she was getting ready to go and abandon her own apron, she noted another noise in the corner.

Turning, this time she found a surprise.

A woman was standing in the shadows. One dressed in black with a veil covering her face. Molly swallowed and straightened, even as her heart began to thump wildly.

"Who are you? What do you want?"

There was a pause. And then the woman reached to lift her veil. Molly took a step back, though she did at least contain a gasp.

"Who are you?" she demanded.

For there, standing before her, was the same woman whose photograph she had discovered within the locket. The woman surveyed her for a moment, before those red lips curved up in a smile.

A/N: Going to leave you there for tonight or I'll never get any rest. Hope you enjoyed it! Please review if you liked it. I might not get very far if I don't have much support. Thanks!