Molly patiently waited in the Barts staff room as the other doctors and nurses slowly filed in. By the white board in front stood Mike Stamford, Head of Research, smiling and jovial as ever. When everyone was seated, Mike started speaking. "Thank you for coming, everybody. I know you're very busy, so I'm going to take only a few minutes of your time. Queen Mary University and Barts have always been partners in community service, and this year, our focus will be on healthcare for the children and young people who sleep rough on the streets of London,"
Noises of approval were heard and assenting nods seen from all in the room.
"However," continued Stamford, "the funding for the medical mission was cut,"
A redheaded nurse rolled her eyes. "Probably went to Three-Kitchens Kate, that,"
Molly raised a brow at the nurse. The pathologist had never been one for complaining and speculating. She turned to Mike. "What can we do, Mike? Surely we can't just let Queen Mary down, and the young homeless will need their annual checkups, vitamins, and supplies,"
Mike beamed at her. "Good of you to ask, Molly. Most of you here are singles. I was wondering if you would mind being in a date auction. Who knows, some of you might even meet your matches!"
o-o-o
The mortuary of Barts was dark and the lone light that could be seen was the one hanging directly above Molly's workstation. She was still in the office at seven because there'd been a pile-up that morning and seven of the deceased were brought to her for PMs. As she typed up the last report, she felt more than the saw Sherlock Holmes sidle up to her while seated in an office chair not unlike her own.
"Evening, Molly," he said, and as the words registered in Molly's mind, the delicious scent of chicken tikka filled her nostrils and her stomach growled loudly, seemingly in response to the temptation to her olfactories. Her face flushed.
"I'm tired and hungry, Sherlock. I'm sorry but I can't stay and assist you with an experiment tonight," she advised.
Sherlock's mind raced to deduce his companion but found nothing out of the ordinary. When he emerged from his mind palace, Molly was gone. He didn't even get the chance to offer her the Indian takeaway he'd brought for her.
o-o-o
Sherlock stormed into Whitehall the next day as if he owned the place. Anthea saw him, shrugged, and went back to her texting. Her boss would know what to do.
The detective found his brother talking on the phone in Russian. Sherlock rolled his eyes. Mycroft held up a finger at him and wrapped up the call before turning to speak to him.
Sherlock shoved his hands into his coat and looked his older brother in the eye. "I'm here to call in a favor,"
Mycroft rolled his eyes, but smiled indulgently at him after. "Well, hello to you, too, Brother Mine."
Sherlock pulled up a chair from in front of Mycroft's desk and positioned it so that it was facing his brother before he sat in it.
Mycroft heaved a sigh. "Please, take a seat,"
"I see that your cognitive skills really are starting to go, Mycroft. Mummy would be absolutely-"
"What do you want, Sherlock? Minor as my position in the government is, I do have an actual occupation that requires me to use my time efficiently. Anyway, let me save you some time, hmm?" The British Government dropped what looked like a party invite onto the table. "It's at nine tonight."
o-o-o
Mike smiled as he considered the crowd that had gathered. Farmer's and Fletcher's Hall really was fantastic. The owner and even their suppliers had donated everything for the party. It was now up to Barts to make as much money as possible for the medical mission. He took a deep breath before going up to the platform and taking the mic. "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen! Thank you so much for coming. I hope that you're all enjoying yourselves. We have now come to the highlight of tonight's event. Today we are bringing before you some of our best and brightest SINGLE medical staff. They will be happy to accompany you to dinner in one of the private dining rooms off the side of this venue later on in the evening if you win. We start tonight's auction with the youngest pathologist Barts has ever had-"
"Ten thousand pounds!" Sherlock yelled from behind the crowd. He was standing by the door looking like he'd run all that way.
Mike raised a brow at him. "Sherlock! I didn't realize you swung that way!"
It was Sherlock's turn to look taken aback. "Swung... what way?"
Whispers were heard all across the venue. In one corner, John and Mary were laughing their hearts out. What are they even doing here?
"Sold for ten thousand pounds, Doctor James Harrison!" Mike announced before introducing a tall, blond, and blue-eyed gentleman in a tux who waved at Sherlock shyly.
"WHAT?! Isn't Molly the youngest?" Sherlock yelled incredulously at Mike, ignoring the indignant murmurs from the crowd all around him. Doctor Harrison also looked a little disappointed.
Mike shot him an apologetic smile. "Doctor Harrison just graduated this year. One of our best students. Now Sherlock-"
"No! I will pay the ten thousand pounds and another ten thousand pounds, but I want Molly!"
Mike scratched his head. "I hate to seem mercenary here, Sherlock-"
"Ten thousand pounds for Doctor Harrison and another ten thousand pounds for Molly, but I am not taking Doctor Harrison to dinner! I want my Molly!" Sherlock demanded.
The crowd was instantly silenced by Sherlock's last statement. The detective felt a mild tap on his arm. It was Molly, dressed in the same black dress she'd worn to the Baker Street Christmas party 4 years ago, but her hair was done up in a low bun surrounded by a braid. On her feet she had on the same pair of killer heels but her makeup was minimal and in lieu of the big, chunky jewelry she'd worn before, she now sported small, tasteful diamond earrings and a thin silver chain that hung midway down her chest, accentuated by a small diamond pendant. Breathtaking, was all Sherlock could think.
Mike turned to the crowds. "Does anyone have any bids on either Doctors Hooper or Harrison? Ten thousand one hundred on either?"
Heads shook and murmurings of disagreement were heard. "SOLD to Sherlock Holmes!"
But Sherlock was too busy staring at Molly to notice.
Molly smiled up at him. "You know, you could have asked me yesterday for free."
Sherlock took hold of the pathologist's hand and kissed it. "Well, you know me. I'm all about drama,"
Molly's face fell.
"Look at me, Molly, please." Sherlock begged. "I don't presume to buy your time, much less you for any amount of money. I, however, would like to avoid the loss of you to another idiot if I can help it. I have been an idiot for years, Molly. I need you to save me from my idiocy once and for all. Please go out with me,"
Mike called out to Sherlock. "What are you going to do about Doctor Harrison?"
Sherlock couldn't even be arsed to look at him. "I dunno, Stamford! Sell him again!" he said dismissively as he offered Molly his arm. The two were led to a private dining room by a solicitous footman.
Mike grinned at Doctor Harrison. "You heard the man. I'll auction you off again later, okay? Maybe you'll even get taken to dinner!"
The young doctor laughed good-naturedly and walked off the stage.
Mike was handed a cue card by a footman. Mike read it, nodded in approval, and then announced the card's contents. "It seems we have a volunteer from the Public Health Office! Anthea Matheson, please step up!"
As Anthea floated up onto the platform wearing a dazzling blood-red trumpet-cut tulle and organza number, all the men in the audience turned to the woman with interest.
"ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND POUNDS!" called Mycroft Holmes from one corner of the room.
Anthea rolled her eyes but the beginnings of a smile tugged the corners of her mouth upward.
Mike scratched the back of his head. Sodding Holmes Brothers. "Am I actually going to be able to auction anyone off today the usual way?"
The entire crowd except for Mycroft, laughed.
Mike addressed the crowd again. "Am I hearing one hundred thousand and one hundred pounds?"
Some males even visibly stepped back from the stage.
Mycroft sauntered up to the stage and offered his "assistant" his hand. "My dear?"
She smiled and nodded. Hand in hand, they were led to another private dining room by yet another helpful footman.
Mycroft whispered into his lover's ear. "I'm going to punish you for this,"
Anthea side-eyed him playfully. "I am looking forward to it,"