I. The Scalpel
Three, two, one... and, end of her shift! Molly sighs deeply, then puts her head between her arms, moaning. Her desk is loaded with paperwork, files and empty coffee mugs – leaving barely enough space for her to work, or even to sit. It's been a hell of a day, and now she is longing for her flat and a bath. With a lot of bubbles. And then, a cup of tea. Maybe she'll even order some chinese food, and watch a nice movie. A smile stretches her thin lips as gathers her stuff, eager to leave.
The pathologist is not usually so strict about her work hours. Actually, she spends probably way too many hours here; Molly Hooper is not the kind of girl who'd stop before the work is properly done. But not tonight: she truly is exhausted and has been eyeing the countdown for the weekend all day. It might have been different had she had dissections to perform but no, not a single cadaver in two days and weeks of paperwork to catch up.
As she goes to take her clothes in the locker, she notices a little note on the door. "Meeting at 8, main entrance." Frowning, she tosses it aside. Someone must have mistaken her locker for someone else's. Unless it is from Sherlock? Usually, the detective prefers to text though, and he must know she won't be up for any experiment tonight. Besides, leaving little notes behind is not really his style. The thought of the detective brings another smile to Molly's lips, sweeter, and she checks her phone just in case. No text, nothing. Despite the relief that she won't be bothered and that she can have her evening to herself, her smiles slightly fades. Sherlock Holmes doesn't need her tonight. And oh, sometimes, she wishes he would.
The detective and her met only a few months ago, but they're well working together. Those long hours in the morgue, at night, or his short visits during the day, to investigate an on-going case, are their privileged moments. To be honest, she never though they'd get along. He is everything she's not : rude, haughty, arrogant, disdainful. He loves to show-off and to put people back in their places and he prides himself into being a... a what already? Ah, right. A high functioning sociopath. He's a genius, he's handsome as hell and the voice he takes when he talks to her makes her insides melt. Of course she had fallen in love. How could she have not?
She knows he manipulates her, too. Oh, nothing mean, but she knows she allows him access to the morgue when she shouldn't, gives him organs although she can't, gives in to anything he asks actually. Because it's him and she can't ever, ever say no.
It's ridiculous right? She's a grown woman, and they haven't even known each other for so long. But she feels him, she loves him. Molly's been fed on fairytales long enough to be sure he's The One to her, and no matter what happens next she will never ever fall this deep for an other man. Yet she is well aware that he can't return her feelings. Not now, not ever. Sherlock Holmes is not a lover, he is no ordinary man. She cannot expect such silly things from him and it's okay. She finds it hard, sometimes, but she accepts it. It is what it is.
But despite his pretense, she thinks he likes her. Not as a friend, he doesn't have friends (he repeats this at least three times a day) but Molly likes to believe that she is the closest thing he has to a friend. She can tell because he talks to her sometimes, when he feels like it, without anything in return. In those moments, stolen from time, he's genuinely nice. Caring, almost, in his own way. He talks a little about his cases or his current researches, about how Anderson really is an idiot and about Greg's cheating wife. They talk about Mrs Hudson and then he offers Molly to come and have tea on Sunday. But then he forgets, and when Molly arrives all excited there's only Mrs Hudson to open the door, embarrassed but good at not showing it. Molly has had tea with Sherlock's landlady-not-his-housekeeper everytime he forgot they had a tea meeting, making this about twice so far. Molly never ever reminds him that. She knows he wouldn't get it. He probably doesn't remember inviting her. In his own words, he deletes from his mind everything that is not important. So, tea with Molly is not that important.
Lost deep in her thoughts, Molly barley notices the note on the elevator doors. "8. Main entrance". It's 7:50 and she can't play this game. Sure, she wonders what it means but she can smell the Holmes signature all over it. Cryptic notes. Yeah, right. It's the weekend, she's on a break. Sherlock can find someone else to torment tonight.
As usual she doesn't go through the main entrance, but walks out on the side door, the one the staff usually use, which leads her directly on the pavement on St Bart's side. It's snowing now, and Molly smiles. Christmas is on it's way and she loves it.
Her beret on her ears, gloves on her hands and a thick scarf around her neck, she starts walking towards the bus stop. London doesn't need one more car to be driven around. Eyes on the pavement, she doesn't notice the third note on a street lamp, "Main entrance !", too busy choosing the song that's going to start her journey back home on her iPod. It's only after a few minutes that she gets this odd feeling. Something is not as it should be. Startled, she stops and looks around. A few more meters until the bus stop. Around her, people are walking just fine, there's traffic, noise, lights. It's all perfectly normal.
"Do you ever do as you're told ?" Molly gasps, startled, and turns around only to meet a woman. Blue eyes, dark hair, and a coat that's worth like six months of Molly's wage. She looks beautiful.
"Wh- what ?"
"Come on, we're in a hurry, Miss Hooper. Would you please get in?" The lady shows her the open door of a black Rolls. No license plate, tinted windows. Molly frowns, takes a step back. She still can run to the bus stop...
"No, you can't run. Don't be silly. Now, get in."
"Who are you? What do you want? I'm only a pathologist here. I could just..."
"No you can't. Now, Miss Hooper, get in. Someone is eager to meet you."
Chills go down her spine, and she moves reluctantly. The whole situation looks like a bad espionage movie and how the hell does this woman knows her name? Dreadful scenarios come running through her mind but then, it hits her.
"Is is Sherlock? Does it have anything to do with him? Oh my god is he hurt?" The lady gives her a stern look, but doesn't care to answer.
"Please, Miss Hooper. One last time. Get. In." Molly sighs, giving up. She knows better than to disobey, God only knows what could happen… She climbs in the car, rather surprised when the lady comes to sit next to her and absorbs herself in her phone. A faint, nervous smile on the lips, Molly tries desperately to see the bright side of the situation, but it's a little difficult right now. Oh, yes, she too has her phone and she probably could text something to Sherlock, or to Greg Lestrade, just in case, but she's not sure what to do. She doesn't even have the faintest idea where they're taking her, she doesn't know who they are or what they want, and of course the woman won't tell her a thing. Millions of questions go through her head while the car joins the London traffic. In the end Molly loses track of the streets, and the longer the journey lasts, the worst she feels. Sick.
Suddenly, the vehicle stops, drawing Molly's attention.
"We're here, Miss Hooper."
"What ?"
The lady doesn't even look up from her phone. "You can get out. See you."
Slowly, hands shaking, Molly exits the car. She expects it to drive away immediately, leaving her alone and frightened in this… place, which is nothing but an abandoned building, but no. The car doesn't move. She doesn't know if it's a good thing or a bad thing, and as she looks around her she finally spots a silhouette standing in the shadows, a few meters in front of her. Struggling to ignore the sound of her own heartbeat ringing in her ears, she approaches carefully.
"Good evening, Miss Hooper."
Hello guys !
Here I am with a new story, which will have three parts. Everything is written, so I'll just have to post the next chapters this week !
I came up with the idea for this fic shortly after writing "Realisation", but I only finished it like yesterday. (I mean, tonight.) At last ! I hope you will like the encounter, I did definitely had fun writing it.
Don't forget, english is not my first language so if you see any mistakes let me know and I will correct them !
Thanks for reading x
