This story has been on the back burner for me for a while now. It's based on my love for the Victorian age, especially Victorian Sherlock. I hope I capture this well. It's sort of new. (Writing in this age...)

THANK YOU ALL FOR TAKING THE TIME TO READ THIS!

Please remember to review at the end! :)

During a time when women were not supposed to hold any position that men deemed unfit, and politeness was a necessity. Men regarded women as something to show off, and yet treat with respect.

Though for Sherlock Holmes, women were not just something to show off. They were brilliant and able to work in fields that some other men deemed too dirty for them.

The first time he saw her, he knew who she was. It was a given to know the woman dressed in clothes that were not of her sex, and yet he carried on the charade that she was a he, in order to continue working with her.

The day he discovered her was the day he and Watson entered the morgue and found her over a body. At first, he wanted to say something, but when she began to show the knowledge of one who knew what she was doing, he clamped his mouth shut.

At least she wasn't as incompetent as Anderson. That he could plainly see.

He had returned one afternoon nearly a month later, to see her, and in one fleeting moment, he realized why he was drawn to her.

"Is there something else I can do for you, Mr. Holmes?" She asked, with her back to him.

"Yes, tell me why." He answered, approaching her from behind.

She turned to face him, and he saw the mustache quiver for a second. "Why what?" she asked, tilting her head to the side, before straightening.

He smiled and lifted his hand to touch her face. "Why the disguise when you are so much more?" He asked, huskily.

She swallowed and shifted her brown eyes away from his. "I don't know what you mean." She answered, moving away from him.

"Dr. M. Hooper," He began, turning to face her. "What does the M stand for?" He asked as she straightened the instruments on the table. "It's certainly not a man's name." He added, stepping behind her once again.

She stilled her movements and turned to face him. "How do you know?" She asked, her eyes closing for a brief moment.

He smiled and lifted his head in a cocky manner. "Come now, Dr. Hooper, I'm not as naïve and blind as the others, besides I admire those who step out of their comfort zone to try something new and fitting." He answered, catching her eyes once again.

She swallowed and lowered her eyes. "You won't tell anyone?" She asked, fear leaking into her words.

He shook his head. "Why would I ruin your job when you are the most capable mortician that I have ever had the pleasure of working?" He asked, in a pompous manner.

She smiled and lowered her head. "Molly," She answered, taking a chance, though she knew she was taking more than a chance.

He studied her and nodded. "It suits you." He returned, with a bow of his head. "Until tomorrow, Molly Hooper," He remarked, bowing his head once more, and left her in the room, speechless.

~XXX~

It wasn't long after he learned her name that he realized who exactly she was.

The victim had been a low-level crime boss, and because of the bullet, Holmes knew exactly who the culprit was.

He and Hooper were the only ones in the room when he named the gun of the bullet, and with a quick glance out of the corner of his eye, he noticed how still she had gotten.

"Molly," He called, turning to face her, knowing there were no others in the room. "You know who he is, don't you?" He asked, taking in her pale face, and wide, scared eyes.

She lowered her eyes and bowed her head. "No…not really…I…" She stuttered, but the look on his face confirmed it.

His eyes narrowed as the deductive mind began to work out the factors. The eyes, of course, the eyes were his.

She had the eyes of her father.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He asked, watching her shift on her feet.

She turned her body away from him. "Because I know how you feel about him." She answered, in a low tone.

He stood up and moved to her. "Do you help him?" He asked as she stiffened.

She whirled around, and the fire in her eyes was unmistakable. "How dare you?" She demanded, raising her hand, but he caught it in mid-strike.

"I was merely asking, Molly." He returned, hotly. "After all these months, I wouldn't dream of believing you would, but since he's your father…" He trailed off when her eyes began to fill with tears.

"Father is a relative term." She remarked, noting he still had her hand in his. She opened her mouth to continue, but her frustration and hurt caused her to release a sigh and close her eyes.

"Hooper," He called, as her eyes opened to catch his. In the silence of the room, as they searched each other's eyes, an understanding passed between them. He wouldn't tell a soul who her father was unless he had to.

"Do you still want my help?" She asked, her voice coming out in small breaths.

He smiled, slowly, and gave a nod. "It's elementary, Dr. Hooper," Sherlock responded, watching her smile, albeit small.

"Well then, Mr. Holmes," She began, as their hands tightened around each other. "Where do we begin?"

He smiled, and brought her hand up to his lips, and gently kissed the back of it. "The game begins now, Molly Hooper."

With that, she smiled.

Please be kind!

I have the first three chapters written, but I'm waiting for a spell to see how this is received. Maybe update a few days from now.

I'm not sure how long this story will be, but the chapters are going to gradually get longer as I wish to give you something to chew on and worth the wait.

Next Chapter: The Crime

Until Next Time...