Sequel to "The Trial of Sherlock Holmes," and "Unexpected Beginnings."

March 2015

Molly entered the morgue just before the start of the late shift. It had been an exceedingly long week, not least due to the family of four in the motorway pile-up. But, it was almost over. Only one more day before a relaxing, three-day weekend. She had made a deal with Dr Roberts that, if she took his shift today, he would take her next two. While she had always been a bit of a pushover, as of late, her negotiating skills were getting better. Maybe it was the new haircut. Or perhaps it was repeating the words Sherlock had said to her, a little over a year ago. Whatever the reason, her confidence had grown tenfold and she was more than thankful for it.

As she pulled on her lab coat, her fingers lightly brushed the piece of paper taped to the inside of the locker. She had written those fateful words down - a constant reminder of possibly the most important thing ever said to her. You matter. You've always mattered.

The words may not have meant what she wanted them to mean. Hell, they may have even been a lie to get what he wanted. It wouldn't be the first time. But it didn't matter. They had worked. And she had used their power to her advantage.

With a deep breath, she repeated the words once more, shutting the locker door and heading for the morgue.

As Molly Hooper took up her scalpel, she couldn't help but to sigh as she caught sight of a silver-haired man, biting at his nails in the gallery above her. She spoke a bit more loudly than usual, making sure the microphone suspended above the examination table picked up her voice through the mask.

"It won't go any faster with you hovering, Greg."

DI Lestrade looked more than frustrated as he stepped forward to hit the intercom button and reply.

"He won't answer my calls until I have an answer!"

Molly sighed again, beginning her examination.

"Still not sure why you need me. If he doesn't see any potential in the case, there's no changing his mind. You know that better than anyone."

"Yes, but there has to be something. I mean, he loves these sorts of cases! How could he not like a locked-room mystery?"

"It's not really a 'locked-room mystery', though, is it?"

"How is this not a locked-room mystery? The victim walks into the pub, seemingly fine, so far as we can tell from CCTV, then collapses at the bar and dies from a stab wound just moments later! The footage shows no one leaving or entering, from the time he left to the time police arrived. All four witnesses were interrogated at the scene. No weapon was found..."

"You've said it, though. Four witnesses. Four potential killers. Hell, they might all be in it together."

"Yes, but there was no weapon. Nothing to match the hilt mark made by the blade. We looked everywhere. Sherlock looked everywhere. And yet, he's still convinced there's nothing for him on the case. That why I need you to rule out that the weapon is still inside the wound. Show him that this really is a case he needs to be on!"

Molly didn't pause in her work, but rather gave a fleeting glance over her shoulder.

"Greg, why is this so important to you? So he's not interested in this one. What's the big deal?"

"Molly, he's not interested in anything anymore. He hasn't been over to see John and the new baby, he's barely eating, he just sits all day in his parlour, staring at that web of red string he's built himself…"

"Well, that's hardly surprising behaviour. Not for him, anyway."

"Oh yeah? Well, Mrs Hudson told me that last week she threw away one of his mouldy, disgusting 'experiments' -"

"So?"

"He thanked her for doing it."

Molly stopped dead, turning to look at the DI with wide eyes.

"You mean, he said it sarcastically?"

"No. As near as she could tell, he was being sincere. Took it upon himself to throw out a couple of human body parts, as well."

The medical examiner's brow furrowed as she continued her work.

"Alright, something is definitely wrong, then."

"Exactly. But he won't talk to me unless I have a case. And, even then, it'll be a long shot. So, please. Tell me you have something?"

"Well, the x-ray revealed a small, circular item in the abdomen, but there was no indication as to how it got there. There is definite evidence of a wound tract: organs perforated, muscles torn.… Actually, if I didn't know any better, I'd say the surrounding tissue had been frozen."

"Are you proposing that he was stabbed with an icicle? Sherlock's not going to believe that one for a moment."

Molly took a sample of tissue over to the microscope for closer examination.

"It's not about whether he 'believes' it, or not. That's what the evidence is showing. What is it he's always saying? Facts to suit theories, theories to suit facts? Now, wait a minute, what are you doing here?"

Greg excitedly slammed the button to speak.

"What is it? What did you find?"

"Well, it appears to be a bone fragment, inside the frozen tissue, but -"

She went back to the corpse to confirm her suspicions.

"- there are no splintered or fractured bones anywhere near the wound, almost as if -"

"What? 'As if' what?"

"No, it's too insane. Not possible."

"What's insane? What's not possible?"

She ignored his prompts, instead delving even further into wound. When the proper techniques proved too slow for her growing impatience, she started to dig with her gloved hand. Finally, she drew out a small, metal circle from the wound a washed it off. As she recognized the object she was holding, her voice grew as cold as the blood now running through her veins.

"Call Sherlock. Now."

"Why? What is it?"

With a deep breath, she turned, holding the object up for him to see through the window.

"My engagement ring."