For MizJoely. I posted this one on Tumblr a few weeks ago, but I'm just now getting around to adding it here.


She didn't want to be in Edinburgh. She wanted to be back home in London, in her tiny, cramped flat on King's College campus. She had final exams to study for, and, creature of habit, she did her best when surrounded by the familiar trappings of home. But she had been chosen as one of two undergraduates to present at the Pathology Society's biannual conference. It was a great honour, she kept telling herself.

Of course, what made things worse was that she was sneezing the whole time from when she got on the plane at Gatwick to when she disembarked in Edinburgh. Since then, it felt like she hadn't stopped. Added to that, her throat felt like it was full of razor-blades, it hurt to swallow and she feared by the time her presentation came along – the last session of the day tomorrow – her voice would be all but gone.

She lay back on the cheap motel bed, staring at the ceiling and praying for it all to be over and for the flight back to London to come as quickly as possible. It was only 7pm, but she was ready to call it a night.

She was almost asleep when the need to sneeze took over, waking her up again. She sneezed on and off for what felt like ten minutes before there was a pounding at her door.

"What is it?" She called, wrapping a robe around herself.

"Room service," the young man's voice explained.

Molly opened the door "I didn't order any room-" She stopped, immediately recognising the person at her door.

She had never officially met Sherlock Holmes. She knew him by reputation – he refused to work with anybody, he was rude and often corrected their professors. But she also knew he was brilliant. It was no surprise that he was in Edinburgh, too. He must have been the other undergraduate student giving a paper.

She never in a million years thought he knew who she was. But here he was, at her door, holding a container of some sort.

"I could hear you sneezing from next door," he explained, stepping into the room. "I was trying to study for exams."

"Oh. Sorry." She said sheepishly, "I didn't mean to distract you."

"I brought spicy chicken soup," he said, gesturing to the container.

"How did you know it was me?" Molly asked, opening the container. It smelt divine.

"I followed you here. I wanted to hear your paper," He explained.

Molly's heart skipped a beat. Sherlock Holmes was interested in her research. She couldn't believe it. "You can't, they've scheduled both student papers at the same time in different rooms."

Molly explained, somewhat disappointed.

"I'm not giving a paper," he explained.

"Why not? It's an honour to be chosen represent Kings College at these sorts of things, or so I keep telling myself," Molly smirked.

"I wasn't chosen," Sherlock said. "Anderson was. Teachers' pet," he snickered.

Molly almost couldn't believe it, "Then why are you in Edinburgh?" She asked.

"I said, I followed you here because I wanted to hear your paper." He paused as if steeling himself, before saying, "I think you're brilliant, Molly Hooper."

Molly couldn't help beaming at him, "Really?"

"Yes. Really." He said. "Now let's get you well enough to deliver it," he said, gesturing to the soup.