It was one of those days. The case hadn't really been all that interesting in the first place, but it didn't really matter because John knew that Sherlock had to go and do something before Mrs. Hudson was forced to hire someone to fix all of the bullet holes in the walls. They had been all set for a day trip, and then John couldn't go because Mary had suddenly gone into labor. And a man can't miss the birth of his first child; not even for Sherlock Holmes.

So, it was arranged that Molly would go. She didn't mind going; she quite enjoyed working on cases with Sherlock. However, while Sherlock also enjoyed her company, he was very put off by the fact that John had been suddenly called away.

The train ride had been dull and uneventful, and had made Sherlock restless. Then, the police inspector that they met with to discuss the details of the case had been rude, which made Sherlock even more snappish than he had been all day. And to top things off, Anderson had been "secretly" trailing (stalking would be a better term for it) them all morning and documenting their every move for his rather creepy fan club.

After Sherlock had fairly exploded and managed to frighten all the police in the area, Molly had quietly stated that she was going for a walk, in order that she might clear her head. The man was brilliant, but seriously, he acted like a baby sometimes.

And that was how it had happened that she was standing outside of a morgue in Oxford, in the rain, holding a big, brightly colored umbrella over her head. She sighed and set off down the street. Molly wasn't thinking of going anywhere in particular, so long as she could have a few moments of peace.

She rounded the corner of the street, head down to help keep the rain out of her face, and promptly collided with someone.

The person whom she had run into cried out in surprise, as if he hadn't seen her either, and bent quickly to pick up his briefcase, which he had dropped in the collision. Molly stepped back quickly, apologizing profusely.

"I'm so sorry," she began, "I wasn't paying attention; I'm afraid I didn't see you, and – "

"It's quite alright," he answered, cutting her off. "This sort of thing happens all the time in this kind of weather." Now that he had straightened, she was able to get a good look at him, and found that he was quite good looking. Molly felt even more embarrassed.

It was one thing to embarrass yourself in public; it was quite another to do so in front someone that you thought was attractive. Especially if said embarrassing act happened to be the first time you saw them. Bad first impression.

"I really am sorry about that," Molly began again, in a more composed manner. "I was – distracted – and I didn't see you."

"It's quite alright," he said again. "I understand." His expression and voice were quiet and serious, but the teasing, smiling look in his green eyes gave him away. He was a little amused by the event.

She opened her mouth to reply, but he started speaking again before she could.

Tucking his briefcase under the arm that held his umbrella, he held out his free hand to her and said, "I'm Bastion. Bastion Sigurdarson."

Hesitating slightly, she took his offered hand and shook it. "I'm Molly Hooper."

"Pleased to meet you Ms. Hooper. If I may be so bold; are you heading anywhere in particular?"

She shook her head. "No. I was just walking to clear my head."

"Do you like coffee?"

"Yes."

"I know a place around here that's great. It's just down the street. Would you care to join me?"

She honestly didn't know why she said yes. This man was a total stranger. He could have been a dangerous serial killer for all she knew. And yet, there was something about his voice that she liked; even sort of found familiar, in a way. He had a soft and silky smooth voice, but not in the way that would make you distrust him. His tone was too gentle for that.

As they walked, she studied him out of the corner of her eye. He was clean shaven, with short dark hair that stood out against his pale skin. He was dressed in a gray tweed suit and black dress shoes; which had some mud on them from walking in the rain. He carried himself with an air that was both confident and regal, which made him seem even taller than he was.

They reached the coffee shop, set their wet umbrellas aside, ordered some coffee, and found a table by the window.

The first few moments of conversation were a little awkward, until Molly asked him what he did for a living.

"I'm a history professor. My specialty is in Norse Mythology, though. I'm in town as a guest speaker at the University. What about you; are you a native?"

Molly laughed a little. "No, no. I'm actually only here for the day. I was with a friend, but he is not in the best of moods right now. So I'm letting him work on the case on his own for the time being." She paused and then added, "He's a detective. I'm a pathologist at a hospital in London."

Bastion nodded slowly. "So, you're the Molly Hooper, then."

"What do you mean?" She looked a little confused. Just then, her phone beeped. "Sorry," she said quickly, getting it out and checking her messages.

Molly, where are you? – SH

She sighed and put the phone away again.

"Your detective friend wouldn't happen to be Sherlock Holmes, would it?"

"Well, yes. How did you know? And how did you know me?" Her phone beeped again.

I need you. Right now. – SH

"You were tangled up in that affair with that one Asguardian prince whose name escapes me at the moment. It was all over the news a couple of years ago," He answered. Seeing the embarrassed look on her face, he quickly added, "That's just how I recognized your name. You've also been mentioned in connection with Sherlock Holmes outside of that incident."

"Oh, I see." She studied him closely for a few minutes. Something about him seemed familiar, but she couldn't quite place it. He sipped his coffee and looked out the window quietly, pretending not to be aware that she was watching him.

Molly. Morgue. Now. Please. – SH

"Oh for pity's sake," she breathed, glaring at her phone.

Not now, Sherlock. On a date. – Molly

A date? We didn't come here for you to go on a date. – SH

She put the phone back into her purse, frustrated.

"Do you like the work?" Bastion was looking at her again, smiling amiably. "At the morgue I mean. And working with Holmes."

"Yes; I love it. It's not the type of work that anyone could enjoy though. Most people who find out that I work in a morgue are sort of frightened off by the fact, I think. Probably because I'm a woman, and on top of that I don't look like the sort of person who would enjoy that line of work. Too petite and delicate, are the terms normally used, I think."

He listened to her talk about her job, offering up a comment or two in an interested and not freaked out sort of fashion, which put her at ease. They continued to chat for at least half an hour, about all sorts of things, before Molly's phone began to beep almost non- stop.

She apologized, saying that she probably ought to go; she had ignored Sherlock long enough.

Once outside, they opened their umbrellas again and then both paused for a long moment. She wondered again why he seemed so familiar.

Someone else exited the coffee shop, brushing past them in a way that seemed to indicate that they were in the way. Molly barely noticed though, because Bastion suddenly looked as though there was something that he desperately wanted to say to her.

"Thank you for the coffee," she said. "It was lovely."

He nodded, but didn't answer. He only reached out and grasped her hand tightly. Then, leaning down until his mouth was beside her ear, he whispered, "I'm glad to have found you well, little mouse."

Her eyes snapped open wide in sudden recognition, but she found that she couldn't make herself speak. His lips brushed against her cheek softly as he stepped away, and then Loki was gone, just as suddenly as she had run into him.

"Wait," she cried, pulling herself together and running in the direction that he had gone. There were so many things she had been wondering about, so many things she wanted to ask him; and to think she had spent a portion of the afternoon with him without even knowing it was infuriating.

But it was something he would do. Run into her and then hide under his new identity so he could see her without putting her in danger. She appreciated it, but at the same time, it was aggravating to have been so close to him and not know that it was him until the very last moment.

However, Sherlock was waiting, and probably needed her to smooth things over with all of Scotland Yard.