The Case Study of Sherlock Holmes
Detailed by: Lillian Butler
In the case of Sherlock Holmes, Molly never really knew how to correctly understand the multitude of his idiosyncrasies. He would lounge about in dress shirt and trousers, the fitted suit jacket replaced with a high-end dressing gown, continually mumbling beneath a huffing breath that spoke in great lengths of his apparent boredom. London refused to allow there to be a moments rest for the great detective, though, it wasn't as if, Molly noticed, he wanted his beloved city to slow down enough for there to be wasted periods for normal and ordinary human needs. But it seemed the times were changing for Sherlock Holmes. Since the absence of his blogger was now a commonplace obstacle for Sherlock to overcome, the self designed Consulting Detective sought an entirely different individual to wane his bouts of ennui: Specialist Registrar Molly Hooper. Not that Molly had many complaints to make against his choice of seeking out her companionship.
Over the course of the few months that Molly had become a semi-fixture at 221B, she discovered that Sherlock was every bit the mad high functioning "sociopath" that she had come to adore throughout their friendship (he would scoff at the label, but after all they had been through together, what else could it be called?). Even so, there seemed to be a number of facts that she had overlooked, and what she did take notice of Molly could not believe that he would allow for himself to be so… limited, to put it mildly. It nearly felt unfathomable, yet, with the discovery of a forgotten and worn notebook, which had been tucked away far behind the sofa, Molly noted that maybe Sherlock was more human than everyone was led to believe.
Looking up from her place at Sherlock's kitchen/lab table, Molly watched as he rubbed the back of his head, ruffling the dark curls in agitation, an indication that whatever he was working on was not going as planned. And this would typically not bode well for those that found themselves in the company of an exasperated Sherlock Holmes – not in the slightest of measures. For when Sherlock was flustered a hushed stillness would befall the flat – a quiet before the storm – and then would come the wild upbraiding; Sherlock would spring from his place and in great strides stalk from kitchen to living area and back, all the while analysing and assessing every detail of any unfortunate person in the room. He was child-like in these moments, Molly examined, and whenever a complicated problem arose that threatened to leave Sherlock's treasured 'mind-palace' in disarray he would brood for hours laying on the sofa, his hands affixed under his chin – it was all rather superfluous in Molly's mind.
However, it would appear that on this unusual autumn afternoon the great Sherlock Holmes was reacting in a tamed manner toward whatever conundrum he had undoubtedly encountered. And this brought up Molly's defenses more than the sudden lashing that was typical in these circumstances; she did not know what was going to happen next, which was a cause for concern when in the company of this peculiar man.
"Darker stain, higher pigmentation – no doubt resulting from his uneven strides as he ran through Russell Square…" came the mumbled deduction of the agitated detective. Whatever had pushed Sherlock into this flummoxed state must have been a real brain bender, one that was stretching his applied knowledge of dirt and mud stains that would ultimately appear on clothes and shoes – going as far as to knowing from which areas these stains stemmed from.
Molly paused abruptly, 'applied knowledge… practical knowledge', the thought bounced back and forth in her head as she struggled to remember where she had read a similar study of the detective… the notebook. It was one of the mentioned characteristics of Sherlock's that his absent blogger had briefly written about.
Taking a quick glance at the still mumbling Sherlock Holmes, Molly slinked from her place at the table and quietly walked to her bag, which she had offhandedly deposited near the front door of the flat. She had stuffed the notebook in the great depths of her slouchy purse the evening she had came upon it; there was useful information into the possible understanding of Sherlock's habits and personality, one that Molly had decided was necessary to keep with her instead of returning it to its owner. It is best not to question why she needed to keep the notebook in her possession; Molly herself did not know the full meaning behind the near desperate want to scour the already overtly worn notebook.
Pulling the book from one of the multitude of pockets, Molly gingerly took it in hand and began to flip through the pages until finally settling on the messily scrawled entry that which contained the list Molly had briefly read through. It still left Molly in utter bewilderment that a man with such an amazingly extensive mind would have absolutely no understanding of even the most basic of common knowledge, it couldn't be true. Right? Sherlock could explain where a person had come from – the time of day, the exact location, for goodness sake the man could list in detail the milieu of the poor unsuspecting person. But to not know that the Earth orbits around the Sun? Utter poppycock. Molly knew that Sherlock was just as human as she was, despite his campaign to dissuade such an allegation, and he only had so much cerebral space to contain information, but she could not - would not - fall into the ruse that he was so mentally limited.
But what if the list John had written was well formed and researched? It was very possible; the man lived with Sherlock for the better part of two years before The Fall pushed the pair apart for a couple years, John came to know Sherlock better than anyone who had ever found him or herself in the detective's acquaintance. Looking at the man in question now, Molly devised that if she was to ever truly understand she was going to have to do her own study of Sherlock Holmes. She would not deny that this plan sent a thrill down her spine. Molly was going to play detective on the best and only consulting detective to have ever graced New Scotland Yard.
Gathering all of her belongings quickly, Molly haphazardly buttoned up her coat and looped her scarf over her neck all the while attempting to keep her barley subdued excitement at bay. It would not do to bring unnecessary attention to her budding plan – having Sherlock on her tail would not do well at all, not to mention the fact that if ever found out the unassuming notebook may cause possible mayhem upon the innocent citizens of Greater London. Sherlock was known to be rather dramatic when provoked, and a list of his 'shortcomings' may push the man into a period dominated by scathing observations and the suffering of everyone's ears once he got a hold of his violin. There were times Molly seriously questioned why she was so utterly lost in regards to her love for the man, and then he would pull off some fantastic deduction for a case he was currently working on and she would find her heart palpating heavily, her breath caught in her throat. She had it bad for Sherlock and she was nearly positive that he regarded her companionship nearly a grade above his dear skull; woe was the love of life of one Molly Hooper.
Taking a furtive glance toward Sherlock, who had now began the stages of mild pacing (this case must have really be twisting his mind around if it was causing this level of irritation), and decided it was best to head back to her own flat for the night. Heaving her bag over her shoulder Molly stammered out her good-bye, and with a lingering final look she quit the flat and rushed down the stairs to the buildings door. For the moment Molly would leave the plan to simmer on the backburner, but soon, very soon, she was going to set in motion her case study of the brilliant Sherlock Holmes. With a quiet laugh Molly stuffed her hands deep in the pockets of her coat and huddled into her scarf as she quickly made her way to the Baker Street Tube station.
Unobserved by the retreating pathologist was the questioning watchful gaze of the consulting detective. Something was off about her sudden departure, she had been unnaturally quiet all evening, and he would get to the bottom of her odd behaviour one way or another. No matter what others wanted to believe about his emotions, Sherlock did care for those that he held in high esteem and he did not like it when those that counted so much to him were uneasy. Especially when it concerned Molly Hooper.
What a pair these two made.
Authors Note: This inclusion of a note at the end of a chapter will only happen here and once only. There are one of two facts I wanted to detail before I continued with the story one being that I do not have a set schedule for when the next chapter will be released. I am slowly bringing myself back into the world of fiction writing and thought it was best to try my hand here, first. After so many years of academic writing I have forgotten how to properly write for the joy of it. Sad, I know. Anyway, two, I want to explain that I was inspired by the list of Sherlock's knowledge in The Study of Scarlet, which was actually written by Watson as a sort of 'gaging my flatmate' deal. I pray this will be as much fun to read as it is for me to write.
Cheers!