Author's Note: Hello, all! This is my first fic so be kind! But, I could use all the help I can get! Please review :)
Disclaimer: I don't own BBC Sherlock. All rights reserved to BBC, Mark Gatiss, Stephen Moffat
I Have A Feeling I'm Not in London Anymore…
Chapter 1- Another Ordinary Day
Molly began her daily commute to St. Bart's Hospital at exactly six o' clock the morning. The brisk morning air tingled her senses as she strode toward the tube station. Fortunately, the particular carriage she occupied was not very crowded, allowing Molly to have a few moments peace.
She was in for a rude awakening when she discovered the one and only Sherlock Holmes standing by a slab in the mortuary. Molly gave a gasp of surprise from his presence. Sherlock's presence in the morgue was never a surprise to her, but Molly was not excepting to see the great detective this early in the morning.
Silence filled the room as Molly and Sherlock stared at each other for an absurd amount of time. Sherlock's cold, piercing eyes penetrated Molly's heart.
He looks as still as a statue, Molly thought to herself. Why is he here so early? Doesn't he know I have a long shift ahead of me? Her mind went ramped to compensate for her nervous tension as silence did not break.
As she stared at Sherlock's mesmerizing figure, Sherlock slowly made his way toward her.
Sherlock stated coolly in Molly's ear, "Good Morning to you as well, Molly Hooper." Molly felt a shiver run down her spine. She had forgotten that she was staring at him, mouth agape, without uttering a word to the man. She snapped into a stiff, erect position.
"Oh! Good Morning to you too, Sherlock... Er, I wasn't expecting to see you so early in the morning. I was...I was just... Well, you see, I didn't mean to-"
"Oh, please do stop talking." Sherlock abruptly interrupted her. His tone was monotone and cold, but it had a slight sense of amusement. "However, I am quite flattered that my presence can stun you and render you speechless for exactly ten minutes." His shoulders relaxed as he glanced at Molly. His mouth curving into a sly smile.
Molly! You foolish girl! Get a hold of yourself! Thoroughly embarrassed, Molly took Sherlock's words with a grain of salt and mindlessly followed Sherlock to the slab closest to the entrance.
"Since I know you are going to ask, I am here for your assistance on a recent case John and I have been working on." Sherlock scanned Molly up and down, no response. Perhaps, she is waiting for more information, Sherlock pondered. "A woman walks into a lift. No one is with her. As the lift ascends, she is perfectly healthy. But, when she arrives at her destination, spectators notice her fumbling out of the lift, gasping for air. She falls to floor, foaming at the mouth. She convulses on the floor until her heart stops beating. How did she die?"
Molly had processed every word of Sherlock's fascinating description of the case. His deep, rich, baritone voice enthralled Molly as she listened to him speak. She was ashamed of herself for enjoying it too much. She replied, "Intriguing! Was she poisoned?" She beamed at the detective, waiting for his answer.
"Well..We'll need to take a look at the body," Sherlock leaned quite close to the timid pathologist. Molly's heart rate accelerated. "...Won't we?"
Molly felt a cold shiver run down her spine. Sherlock's eyes stayed focused on Molly's. As he stared at her intently, Sherlock began to smile as a reptile would as it entrances its prey.
Molly never felt more nervous around Sherlock Holmes than ever before. She breathed heavily and stared at him with such longing.
Sherlock straightened his back into his normal, upright posture. "So!" he exclaimed with gusto. "Shall we begin?"
