Chapter 1

Before there was John, there was Baker Street. Of course, Sherlock had lied to John when they first met; he wasn't interested in looking at a flat with him, he wanted John to see the flat that he was already living in. He wanted to lure him in with danger and excitement, which had strangely worked.

Baker Street was Sherlock's scared dwelling. Only a few people could see him, albeit against his wishes, such as his landlady and brother. At 221b, Sherlock would pace, think, and work on his cases. Sometimes he would play his violin, compose music, and sometimes when he was desperate for an ear, he would talk to his skull on the mantel.

In his darker times, Sherlock would become restless, either from an unsolvable case or a lack of a case. Sherlock would become bored and wreak havoc on a wall by shooting at it with a revolver. But when Sherlock was in the darkest of times, he would shoot up, just to clear his mind. The nicotine patches weren't always enough, and it was impossible to keep a smoking habit in London. Sherlock didn't like to indulge into alcohol because it would dull his mind. The mind is what he treasured most. He kept his mine sacred, much like Baker Street.

However, before there was Baker Street, there was Lestrade. Perhaps his only tolerable, ordinary friend. He was the best there was the the Yard. That man was patient, open-minded, fairly competent, and not as irritating as the rest of the officers. Lestrade was the person who gave Sherlock official cases. He even helped Sherlock during his darker times, the dangerous times. He gave Sherlock cases to help keep him busy and from getting bored.

But, before there was Lestrade, there was university. Sherlock attended Cambridge, mainly for its science programmes of study. At uni, Sherlock wasn't the person most people see him as today. He wasn't as insufferable and stubborn, but he was instead a great learner. He wanted to know about everything and how things worked. Sherlock was interested in the raw nature of life. He studied all sorts of things like maths, chemistry, biology, anatomy, geology, sensational literature, law, and botany. Perhaps one course he should have studied was sociology, but then again, he probably would have found it boring. Other than that, Sherlock liked to uncover the mysteries of life and debunk them. He, however hadn't planned on being a detective at the time.

So before being a detective, there was Molly Hooper. They first met at uni. She was an aspiring student whom was two years his junior and whom in fact was very bright. They met in an unconventional way, that being she clumsily bumped into him, only because she couldn't see over the stack of medical books she was carrying.

"Oh, oh! I am so, so, sorry. I should have been more careful," Molly said, spewing out apologies.

"No, no. It's quite alright... Molly," he said with a glint of recognition. "You're in my chemistry class, aren't you?" asked Sherlock hesitantly, while picking up her books. He had seen her around and observed her for awhile, but they never minded each other, in fact, she never noticed him. Sherlock is always noticed.

"Oh, are we in the same class together? I'm sorry, I guess I haven't ever noticed you before, um?"

"Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes," he said with a slight smile.

"Well, I'm so embarrassed. I've made a complete fool of myself, not minding where I'm going or whom I have class with," said Molly, red with embarrassment.

"Hmm, would you mind if we had coffee?" he asked on an impulse.

"Coffee?" asked Molly. Nobody had asked her for coffee before.

"Unless you mind, or you don't have time," he said. He usually didn't do this sort of thing, but for some reason he wanted to.

"Of course I mind–er, I mean I don't," Molly berated herself for her nervous stutter. "Yes, I have time. Coffee," she said smiling, "coffee would be nice actually."

Together they walked to the cafe on campus. Sherlock helped carry her books, which were surprisingly heavy.

Sherlock was not a socialite, at least not like his brother who used connections to his advantage. Sherlock was a lone student, who did his studies alone, his work alone, and spent most of his time alone. That isn't to say Sherlock was lonely. At uni, he did not dislike and push away people like he does now. He would just go about his business, not minding others. When it came to social events, Sherlock would sometimes attend out of curiosity, boredom, and reluctance. One time, Mycroft had scolded his younger brother into attending the university's events or join some sort of activity, like chess. Sherlock tried out some of the clubs, but only because Mycroft made him and not because he liked them. Although, he did secretly enjoy fencing and martial arts.

At the cafe, the duo didn't talk much. They both sat in silence for a few minutes while sipping their drinks. Sherlock ordered his coffee black with two sugars, and Molly ordered hers with cream, sugar, and a hint of hazelnut. Both were rather introverted, and it's hard for two introverted strangers to get to know each other.

"So, um Sherlock–"

"Mmm, yes?" She had been so quiet, he wondered if she'd ever speak.

"Um, what is it you're studying, what do you want to do exactly," she asked.

He took a moment to think. "Well, to tell you the truth, I'm quite not sure what I want to do. I just know I like chemistry, studying life, the human complexion, and those sorts of things," he stated coolly. Not many people actually ask him what he wanted to do, most people just told him what to do. Mycroft wanted him to be a scientist while Mother wished him to be a philosopher. He has the mind of both, yet he hadn't elected what he desires yet.

"So, what makes you so interested in science and chemistry?" she asked.

"I like the mystery, the puzzles, the thrills; science, it's all so much fun, yet people don't understand that it can be an enjoyable art. People... people think of it as something more tedious and only necessary for finding solutions to problems," Sherlock stated as a matter of fact, then taking a sip of his coffee.

"I understand completely. I love it."

"Hmm, don't tell me. Let me guess, you want to be a surgeon. A surgeon guessing by your various medical books, your concentration, how hard you work, yet you don't become overwhelmed by it. You enjoy it, you find it relaxing. Also, you're very precise, by the way write and do laboratory assignments. Also, you don't let yourself become easily distracted, especially by people or friends, sorry for observing that, but it's clear you prefer to work alone. Judging by those qualities, you'd be very cut out for being a surgeon... no pun intended," he rattled off with a slight smugness.

"Hmm, I'm impressed Mr. Holmes. Perhaps you should become a detective rather than a scientist, or whatever it is.."

Detective, hmmm. "I'll take that into consideration Ms. Hooper. I haven't given detective work the slightest thought, however it sounds interesting. I can't remember the last time someone suggested an idea to me instead of telling me. By the way, did I miss anything in that deduction?" He always missed something.

"Yes, just one thing. I want to be a pathologist," Molly replied meekly. People usually reply in disgust of someone wanting to work with the dead.

"Ah, I am impressed, Molly."

"Oh really? Working with the dead impresses you?"

"Women don't normally like working in mortuaries or with the dead for the fact of the matter. But what impresses me is that you value its importance, autopsies that is, and you're willing to go into that field of study. However, this brings me to ask, you look much younger than the other women in my class, how is it we are in the same level of chemistry together?"

"Well, I was placed into secondary school a year ahead because I tested above average. So I essentially had three years of secondary school, and I excelled in all of my courses my first year of uni, so I was placed into more advanced classes."

She's very brilliant, much more than I had expect, Sherlock mused. Much to his surprise, he had met someone he had things in common with. "A person with your high level of intellect and reverence for your education is not a common sight, but you, you would make an excellent mortician. You're very young in your career, yet you have a great deal of potential."

Molly gave a slight blush. No one had ever complemented her on her choice of career before. "Thank you, Sherlock. That means a lot," she said with a smile.

Then looking at her watch. "Aw, no. I really need to go," she said getting up. "I've got to get ready for an exam tomorrow morning. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Sherlock. Thanks for the coffee," she said as she was out the door.

Well that was rather abrupt,Sherlock thought to himself, but he paid no mind to it. He had some thinking to do anyway.