221B BAKER STREET - 2015
Sherlock Holmes sat at his kitchen table. In front of him a beaker on a stand over a Bunsen burner, its contents just starting to boil when his mobile began to ring. As the experiment required his full attention, being that its result would prove beyond a shadow of a doubt the guilt or innocence of a client, he ignored the irritating distraction, sighing with relief when it finally stopped ringing.
Time was of the essence with an experiment such as this, any false move on his part would cause an inaccurate reading, which could result in dire consequences for his client. He was just about to add the contents of the pipet in his hand to the boiling liquid when his mobile began to ring once again.
The moment was lost, the experiment ruined.
Sherlock grabbed his phone. "What Lestrade," he snapped. "I was just…"
"I don't care what you're working on Sherlock," Lestrade growled in response. "Get your arse over to Barts morgue – now!"
And the line went dead.
Sherlock checked the screen, most put out when it confirmed that the Detective Inspector had indeed disconnected the call.
BARTS HOSPITAL – MORGUE
When he arrived at Barts, John was waiting for him, having been similarly summoned by Lestrade.
When they entered the morgue they found that it was an active crime scene.
When Lestrade made his way over to them. John asked. "Where's Molly?" as he looked around for the young pathologist.
"She's the reason for all this," Lestrade responded as he indicated the CSI work being performed.
Sherlock glanced over as Anderson and his team worked diligently collecting swabs and samples.
Lestrade's gaze followed Sherlock's. "There are signs that there was a struggle. As near as we can tell Molly put up a hell of a fight."
"So where is she?" Sherlock asked, his concern only too clear to his friends.
"There is no trace of her anywhere," came the unsatisfactory response.
"Don't be ridiculous Lestrade," Sherlock responded impatiently. "She can't have just disappeared into thin air."
"But that's the thing Sherlock. Molly isn't just missing, it's like she never existed."
Sherlock was now genuinely annoyed. He'd always regarded Lestrade as a reasonable, down to earth sort of person. But his statement was bordering on the fanciful.
"Even if she has been kidnapped, as is clear from what's happened here, there would still be records of her somewhere. Her Birth Certificate, Medical Degrees, friends and family," he stated with conviction.
"But that's just it, we've checked the records, there is no birth certificate for her, no lease for her flat under her name, school records, medical degrees. And even those who know her well, family and friends claim to have never heard of her…"
"That's impossible."
"That's why I called you. As far as I can discover, the only people who currently remember Molly are you, me, John and Stamford. And I'm not afraid to admit that I'm concerned that there's a very good chance that we may end up forgetting her too."
At that moment Lestrade was called away.
Sherlock considered all that Scotland Yard detective had told him. He intended to perform his own investigation to confirm the validity of these unbelievable facts. But if they turned out to be true…
For a man used to deductive reasoning based on cold, hard logic, backed up by the application of scientific methodology. It was highly unnerving to be struck by a sense of growing unease and foreboding for the safety of his pathologist.
For wherever Molly was; she was in very grave danger.