Meet the New Molly
It had been few weeks since Molly Hooper had ended things with Jim: Plain old Jim from IT, adorable and innocent Jim, clumsy Jim… gay Jim. She shuddered at the thought, hating herself for how pathetic she had been. She always had a small inkling that Jim batted for the other team; His eyebrows were better shaped than hers, he constantly smelt of fake tan and he had enough gel in his hair to match the power of a weak adhesive. Molly spent the first few nights wallowing in self-pity. She wasn't upset because she didn't know, oh no, Molly knew that Jim was gay. She knew before Sherlock had humiliated her in front of John, she had deduced it within the first week. Molly just didn't want to believe it. During the course of their relationship she had suppressed all her doubt and created a world in which Jim was not gay and truly hers. A world in which Jim loved her like she did him. Blocking out all the imperfections she made it simple and easy. Eventually insanity got the better of her and after Jim's rather outward gesture to Sherlock; she couldn't bare herself to live with such deceit. The 15 weeks they were together were a lie. He had entwined and manipulated himself into her comfortable life and Molly let him. A regular feature is what he had become and Molly still couldn't quite reel herself away from her dependency.
Now Molly sat in her small flat drinking scotch preparing for the day ahead. She had evolved from her typical hot coco with marshmallows; she felt she had to refine her tastes- change a bit for the better. She swirled the golden liqueur and her thoughts darted back to the recent revelations she had. Two weeks after their breakup, Jim revealed himself as Moriarty, the man behind the murderous taxi driver, the illegal trades from China, the bombings, and God knows what else. She sighed, feeling sick with the overwhelming emotions. The combination of self-hatred and misery had gotten the better of her. It wasn't the fact Jim was gay that had forced the drastic change unto her. It was the fact Jim wasn't as boring as he played out to be. He was exciting, albeit a dangerous killer, but he was different and had another life of adventure. Molly was jealous of the psychotic bastard at the heart of a network of criminals. He was the fucking Napoleon of Crime and she had been none the wiser. Cheated, she felt cheated but new Molly wasn't going to fall victim to such again.
She felt reborn; she was now the proud wearer of a stoic expression and had adopted a hard exterior to match. Molly Hopper was no longer the girl who would squirm when the great Sherlock Holmes complimented her, the girl who trusted anyone who smiled at her. She was different and she liked it and tomorrow she was going to flaunt it. She was going to go back to the morgue and not allow a single soul to see the sadness that actually haunted her.
Wanting everyone to notice the change, she decided to make it visible. So when the morning came she disregarded her normal baggy work pants and granny cardigan and instead slipped into a black dress similar to the one she had worn to Sherlock's Christmas party but more work appropriate. She chuckled at the word appropriate. Caring whether things were appropriate or not seemed rather trivial in retrospect to everything that had happened over the past few weeks. Looking at the gaunt face in the mirror, she made an effort to apply makeup and fix her hair in an attempt to cover the near skeletal figure she had become. She even wore heels. All in all Molly looked sharper, her figure was accented by the dress that hugged her and her legs looked even more appealing with the extra height.
After uttering one final word of reassurance to herself, Molly opened the door to her lab and braved her way in. Sherlock being Sherlock was the first to notice, as she saw the detective shuffle slightly. His investigative prowesses were tingling as he raised his head ever so subtly into the air, abandoning his microscope, and sniffed. Of course he would notice the faint smell of her perfume.Molly walked further into the lab, trying to push her regrets of her attire and new look to the back of her mind. Sherlock instantly turned on her second step and looked at Molly's feet. He broke into a smirk and didn't bother to look up. Heels! Only Sherlock bloody Holmes would be able to deduce a person judging by the sound of their shoes.
"Molly, we're glad to have you back!" Lestrade said, turning to face her, taken aback by her stunning appearance. Molly blushed as the eyes of Anderson, Lestrade and Watson lingered generously all over her. She must admit the attention was nice, even Sherlock took a glance.
The morning was entertaining to say the least. Anderson was practically drooling on her, gawking at her and very much so enjoying the view. John and Lestrade awkwardly acknowledged her new persona but tried to not be as obvious. Deciding to go full out, Molly decided she was no longer be timid and dismissive when in conversation; instead she had more wit about her and challenged the men with snappy retorts. Even Sherlock enjoyed it.
The boys left by 11 AM, and by Jove Molly's feet were aching. She cursed her damn heels but continued to endure the pain. The work itself was uneventful; only 3 bodies had come in. New Molly may be detached from her emotions compared to old Molly but she was glad by the lack of bodies, lack of lives wasted.
By 5 PM she had established the causes of deaths: 1 suicide, 1 stroke and 1 too many pasties leading to a nasty heart attack and subsequently finished the paperwork. Deciding to call it a day, Molly gathered her bag and coat. Locking the lab, Molly made her way to the lift and much to her surprise she saw Lestrade leaning against the wall.
"Greg! What are you doing here?" She smiled at him not able to hide her glee. Lestrade looked up at her, it was only then she realised how nervous he looked.
"I… I was just wondering how you're doing?" He spat out.
"Greg, I am fine, just like I was an hour ago when you texted me. Thank you though." She smiled again, this time more disappointed as she realised he was here out of sympathy. Greg returned a measly smile, reciprocating the sympathy and with that allowed Molly to walk off.
"Actually Molly…" Lestrade exclaimed a little too loud. "I wanted to know, if I could take you out to dinner?" Lestrade fidgeted, his face looked uncomfortable.
Lestrade was single. He was a gentleman, a man of power and most importantly he was more human than Moriarty could ever be. Molly saw no harm in agreeing.
"I'd love that." She whispered, her cheeks burned and Lestrade broke into a grin.
"Tomorrow night? I'll pick you up at 8?" He asked. Molly didn't have to reply with words, all she had to do was nod and the date was set.
That night, Molly returned to her bungalow content. Looks like my new self is paying off. Lestrade had finally plucked up the courage to make a move; all he needed was to see a bit of cleavage. Go figure she thought. Taking her duvet with her, Molly settled down on the sofa, too absorbed in her joy to watch TV. For the first time since Jim, she was happy, actually happy. She let out a soft laugh, taking comfort in her high spirits. The buzzing of her phone brought her back into the room and heart accelerated slightly. Lestrade's being keen she thought excited.
Molls, you've been naughty tonight. Have you moved on from me already? Daddy doesn't approve. –JM