Disclaimer: The characters portrayed in this are not my creation, all rights belong to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and the writers/producers of BBC Sherlock. No copyright infringement intended.
October was, without a doubt, Molly Hooper's favorite month. The weather was the perfect mix of crisp air and bright sunshine. She loved wearing cozy sweaters, the feel of warm textures wrapping around her small frame. Not to mention the pleasant addition of spicy beverages to the menu boards of all the coffee shops in town. Her favorite was a tangy apple cider from the tiny cafe at the end of her street. And for a few brief weeks, her morbid sense of humor fit right in. Halloween was the perfect excuse to indulge in all the skeleton motif items that her friends and family had bestowed on her throughout the years. What else did you get for a girl who worked with dead bodies? Skull and crossbones jumpers, socks and jewelry of course. Wearing her favorite pair of silver skull studs and a comfortable grey jumper with a bat motif around collar and cuffs, she strolled to the grocer's to pick up the most important part of her holiday preparations, a large orange pumpkin.
Every year, the staff at Barts were encouraged to attend the Halloween costume party. Molly didn't really dress up much as she couldn't see herself in any of the skimpy get-ups that passed for women's costumes. But she was an active participant in the other part of the party, the pumpkin carving contest. For five years running she had won the contest owing to her incredible skills with a blade. Some would say that she had an unfair advantage because she got to practice her art every day, but really, it had been more her father's training that made her the expert squash sculptor. He had been a whittler, carving little wooden toys for her beside the fire every winter. She loved to watch his hands work. And when she had been old enough to be trusted with a pocket-knife of her own, he had taught her how to unleash the wooden figures trapped just beneath the surface. Transferring the skills to pumpkin carving was child's play.
With her pumpkin purchased, she headed into the lab to start her work day. Molly knew that it bent some of the rules to carve a pumpkin in the lab, but it was really the best place. She never worked on the pumpkin during her regular shift, preferring to come in early or stay later and she only used her own tools from home. The mess was contained to a single station nearest the sink so that there was no risk of seeds or slime ending up in an important culture. Honestly, the stuff that Sherlock got away with was much worse by comparison.
To extend her working time (some creations took more than 15 hours of carving), she kept her work-in-progress in one of the fridges, frequently next to some of the detective's own questionable projects. Most people didn't even notice it was there, covered with a drape, mistaking it for a cadaveric head and wanting to avoid that as much as possible. Some people, though, have an insatiable curiosity, and Sherlock's appetite for the strange was voracious. He and John hadn't been in the lab ten minutes before he started shouting her name.
"Molly! Why is there a large gourd in the cooler next to my specimens!" he bellowed across the room. He really didn't need to shout, but felt indignant that the pathologist would allow someone to store a pumpkin on his specimen shelf.
"Oh, that! It's, um, nothing. You've never said anything about it in the past. I didn't think you'd notice," she mumbled.
"I notice everything, you know that," he drawled, "Now speak up and explain why it's contaminating my experiments."
John rolled his eyes at the unnecessary, but typical, theatrics of his flatmate and friend.
"It's her lab, Sherlock, she can store what she wants in the fridge," John countered.
"What possible purpose could she have for a pumpkin though?" Sherlock spoke as if Molly wasn't even there.
Both doctors could sense he was going to try to deduce the rationale behind the fruit's occurrence in the lab. They exchanged glances and smiled. There was little chance of Sherlock figuring it out. Holidays were something he paid very little attention to. As a result, he would likely have deleted any information he ever had concerning Halloween and jack-o-lanterns unless it had to do with the statistics indicating an increase in bizarre murders this time of year. It seemed like serial killers and other depraved souls were inspired by the morose holiday. Molly decided to save them all some time.
"It's for the pumpkin carving contest. I enter every year," she explained. "During the annual Halloween party here at the hospital, staff vote on their favorite pumpkin with donations for the children's wing. The pumpkin with the most money wins a trophy. I know it's silly, but it's really fun."
"Last year's party was fun," John added, "You missed out, mate. Insisted on staying at the flat performing some research on ritual killers."
"I assure you ritual killers are far more interesting than a bunch of adults acting like children in frivolous costuming. Those sorts of parties only serve to increase the number of ill-fated inter-office liaisons," Sherlock quipped. "Pumpkin carving cannot be approved use of facilities, Dr. Hooper." He directed his gaze to her and smirked.
"Neither is half of what you do, Mr. Holmes," she replied sharply. "So unless you want all those dishes of yours discarded, you'll keep mum about my pumpkin." Molly's eyes flashed at him.
It was impressive and amusing for John to watch the silent staring match between the brooding detective and the typically meek pathologist. There were few things that Molly would challenge Sherlock on in such a manner, most of them having to do with his persistent abuse of the lab protocols. Now, here she was sticking up for her own desire to bend said rules. Strange things did happen this time of year.
"It's no concern of mine that you waste time on such a banal project," Sherlock huffed at last, "Honestly, what could there be to vote on amongst a group of grinning gourds." He pulled his lips into a ridiculously wide smile meant to mimic and malign the contest.
"Actually, they're pretty artistic," John cut in. "Folks put a lot of time and effort into pumpkin carving. Just look at these pictures." He pulled out his mobile and opened an email of pictures Mary had sent him of some of the most impressive carved pumpkins circulating on the internet.
"I seriously doubt that Molly will be carving up something that looks like that," Sherlock dismissed John, waving his hand at the small screen. Really, she was good with a scalpel, but it would take a great deal more than a y-incision to turn a pumpkin into one of those soggy sculptures.
"I'm better at it than you," Molly piped up, feeling emboldened by her earlier verbal jousting with Sherlock.
He scoffed, "Very unlikely."
She just couldn't keep her mouth shut, "I'd wager any pumpkin I carve will win more money at the contest than anything you could do, Sherlock."
Silence settled for a few moments while they all stared. Sherlock was initially incredulous that Molly had actually challenged him, then he took on a bemused expression, apparently considering the bet. Molly was a bit flustered, color blossoming on her cheeks, but her gaze remained steady, daring him to back down. John kept looking between the two of them, fearing for a moment he had stepped into an alternate universe. He was convinced of it when he heard Sherlock speak.
"What are the stakes?"
Now it was John who couldn't control his mouth, "Costumes. Winner decides on a costume that the loser is obligated to wear to the Yard's Halloween party the next night."
"Oh, I don't know…" Molly wavered, a real blush creeping up her face. The idea of Sherlock in costume caused some rather embarrassing images to flash across her mind temporarily. She really was hoping he couldn't read thoughts right now. It got worse when he smirked at her.
"Afraid you might lose?"
Relieved that he had assumed a different motivation for her embarrassment, she shook her head. "Not at all." She extended her hand, "Do we have a bet?"
"Agreed." Sherlock reached out his hand to hers. They shook on it and John smiled at what he had just witnessed. This was going to be great. He knew that Sherlock didn't stand a chance against the five-time Queen of Carving and he sincerely looked forward to whatever costume she picked out.
NB: In the above scene, when Sherlock smiles like a jack-o-lantern, I imagine it to be like the grin he gives the smiley on his wall before he shoots it.
Even though I should be working on other stories (like I'd Love to Know What He's Thinking - I promise I'm working on it), I decided to take advantage of the season for a little Sherlolly fluff. I blame it on the fact that Halloween has got to be Sherlock and Molly's favorite holiday, I mean look at them and what they both do for a living.
And I'm taking suggestions on what costumes Sherlock and Molly would choose for the other to wear. Keep in mind both are convinced they will win. Just PM me! As always, reviews are love. - CG