Beeton's Pub, 12 Northumberland Street
"…and so the string of murders remains unsolved by the Inspector and the rest of his team at Scotland Yard. New evidence, however, is sure to turn up as more witnesses are questioned. If you have any information regarding this case, please contact investigation services at 020-7902…"
"Idiot," Sherlock muttered, staring at his cup of coffee.
"Who?" John asked, raising his eyebrows.
"Lestrade."
"As usual," John said, flipping to the editorials. "He's doing his best. The case sounds nearly impossible."
"Few things are impossible. And no, it's the fact that he's let every paper in London publish a story about it on their front page."
"They were bound to find out at somepoint."
"They wouldn't if he would keep his mouth shut."
"I'm surprised you haven't shown any interest…"
"I never said that."
"What? You said that the case was boring and the…"
"That's not what I meant," Sherlock paused, sucking in a deep breath. "Lestrade apparently isn't interested on my help." He rested his chin on his hands, gazing into his mug.
"Well, I don't blame him. The way you acted during the last one…"
"I solved the case, did I not?"
"Yes, but you sent the police on a wild goose chase just so you could…"
"I can't think with every officer in London contaminating the crime scene!"
"It's their job, Sherlock."
"What, destroying the evidence?"
"Well, you solved the case. Just managed to piss off Lestrade in the process," John sighed, shaking his head as Sherlock ran his fingers through his curls.
"They need me," Sherlock groaned.
"I think you need them more than anything," John said with a half smile. "I'm sure Lestrade will call before the week's over. Sounded desparate in the paper." He glanced at Sherlock's phone on the table as it began to ring.
"Sherlock, it's…"
"I know who it is."
"Aren't you going to answer it?"
"No."
"But the…"
"No."
"Sherlock…"
"No."
"You're being…"
"I AM NOT BEING UNREASONABLE IN THE LEAST!" Sherlock shouted, slamming his coffee down on the table. "THE LAST THING LESTRADE AND HIS BLOODY TEAM OF DETECTIVES DESERVES RIGHT NOW IS MY HELP!" He stood up, grabbing his scarf and tying a quick knot around his neck.
"Sherlock…"
"Don't 'Sherlock' me. I'm getting some air," he muttered, slamming the door behind him as he left the restaurant.
St. Bartholomew's Hospital
"Formaldehyde."
"Here."
"Carboxylic acid."
"How much?"
"Seven milliliters."
"Here."
"Coffee."
"What?"
"Coffee," Sherlock said, looking up from his microscope. "Brown, brewed, usually served with cream or sugar…"
"Sorry," Molly blushed, picking up the steaming mug and placing it in his outstretched hand.
"Thank you," he said as he leaned in towards the eyepiece, adjusting one of knobs at the base.
"Anything else?"
"No." He paused, looking up at Molly from the microscope. "Actually, yes. I'd like you to answer a question for me."
"Yes. Yes, of course."
"If you were, for instance, an a forensic mastermind and an expert at the art of deduction…hypothetically speaking, of course…and your advice and expertise was not only ignored, but mocked no less, at the cost of, oh I don't know, let's say seven innocent lives, you wouldn't perhaps be a tiny bit irritated, now would you?"
"I'm…sorry? I mean yes…yes, I suppose I would. Why do you ask?"
"Guess."
"Is it about that case that's been all over the…"
"The papers? Yes, that would be the one," Sherlock muttered, gazing into the microscope. He didn't look up at the door to the lab swung open.
"Molly! Pleasure it is to see you here," a man in a white lab coat identical to Molly's said, smiling as he carried a tray of bloody scalpels to the lab sink.
"Mark! What brings you up here? I mean…obviously the scalpels…" Molly blushed, tucking some loose hair behind her ear.
"Just washing some of these off. Sink's clogged downstairs," he said, glancing at Sherlock as he turned on the water. "And who's this?"
"Oh, this is Sherlock. He's a detective…a consulting detective up at Scotland Yard," she beamed, glancing at Sherlock, who had finally looked up from his experiment.
"Ahh. The famous Sherlock Holmes," he said, reaching out his arm. "I'm…"
"Mark Dillanger," Sherlock said, shaking his hand.
"Clever. Not that I'm wearing a nametag or anything," he laughed, adjusting the pin at his chest. "I suppose you're helping the police with that one case. The one that's in the papers…"
"No," Molly said quickly, watching as Sherlock's mouth twitched. "I mean…they're still analyzing evidence. Usuallly Sherlock doesn't get involved until after he can have the scene to himself. He…he works better on his own."
"That makes perfect sense," he said, chuckling. "Why not let the police do all the dirty work?"
"What part, exactly, of solving a homicide don't you define as 'dirty work', Mr. Dillanger?" Sherlock said slowly, narrowing his eyes.
"I'm sorry…that was a bit rude. Certainly didn't intend for it to come out sounding that way," he said, raising his eyebrows. He turned to Molly. "So, how about dinner? Tonight, after your shift is over. I'll meet you out front," he said, glancing at Sherlock. "Unless you're busy, of course."
"Um…where did you want to go?" She said, flustered.
"Wherever your little heart desires."
"God," Sherlock muttered to himself.
"What was that, Mr. Holmes?"
"Nothing intended for you," he said, rolling his eyes.
"So, have we decided?"
"Um…how about that new restaurant down on Tembuld. It's Itallian, I think. Shannon said the food was pretty good…"
"Perfect. I've been meaning to go there myself," Mark said, heading for the door. "Oh, and we can stop by your place if you want to…you know, change clothes or anything," he said, winking before heading out the door.
"Oh, okay," Molly said quickly as the door swung shut behind him. Sherlock stood up quickly, buttoning his coat.
"Aren't…aren't you going finish?" Molly said, watching as he slid his phone off the lab table and into his pocket.
"I suppose I'll finish later. Wouldn't want to hold you up," he said quickly, adjusting his scarf and shutting off the hot plate.
"You're not holding me up. You're…my shift isn't over until…"
"Seven-thirty, I know. Enjoy the pasta."
"Sherlock…"
"Goodnight, Molly."