Her Alibi

Basic plot

Moriarty has framed Molly for a crime.

She was with Sherlock when it happened.

She can't give up her alibi

2 time frames – like an Alias episode

Thursday afternoon

Lestrade surveyed the crime scene. God, he really needed Sherlock now but no, he had to go and jump off a building! And Moriarty was still at large. He hated to admit how dependent they had become on Sherlock Holmes. This particular crime scene had all the hallmarks of the master criminal. The body of a late 40s man was opened on a table in an abandoned warehouse. It was like he had been partially autopsied already but this was how they found him. No obvious sign of death. There were no personal effects on the body so for now all they could say was their John Doe was neatly groomed and didn't do manual labour, judging by his hands. Lestrade was quite proud of his small deduction – perhaps Sherlock had rubbed off on him after all.

Anderson was collecting samples.

"Lestrade, we've found a single long brown hair, so we're probably looking for a woman. We'll analyse it for DNA in case she's in the database."

Lestrade nodded.

"Molly, I suppose you know why you've been brought in?" said Lestrade.

"No, Greg. I know I've been arrested on suspicion of involvement in a murder but I have no idea what's about."

Molly looked awful: visibly nervous, pale, upset, worried. Greg fought the urge to hug her. The chances of Molly Hooper having killed anyone, let alone this man, seemed slim. She had all the obvious signs of innocence: guilty people were usually calmer, having worked out a story in advance.

"Ok. Here's what we've got. We found a partially autopsied body of a man in a disused warehouse. The room was devoid of furniture and tools, save the table he was lying on. Anderson says he's dead between 40 – 45 hours. We found a single long brown hair on the floor, which, I'm sorry to say, is yours. You know all hospital employees have samples on file now? That's how we found it."

Molly unconsciously fingered her hair, bound in a single side plait.

"What? I don't understand. How could my hair be there? I had nothing to do with this?"

Greg slide over a photo of the man – a close up of his face. At least Molly wouldn't be squeamish about seeing a dead body.

"So you don't recognise him?"

She looked carefully before confirming "no, not at all."

"That's what I figured. Where were you the night before last? I have to ask. Do you have an alibi?"

Molly's mind flashed back to the previous Tuesday night. No. She couldn't talk about that. She was afraid to even think it in case something showed in her face. Of course, only Sherlock would be able to deduce whereabouts from a look and ironically, he was the only person could prove her alibi. But when your alibi is officially dead, that's just not going to cut it.

So finally, she said in a small desperate voice "Greg, I don't have one. I was at home alone. That's where I am most nights since… I don't suppose cats count?" she trailed off with a weak smile.

"Yeah, that's what I was afraid of. Look, Molly, I know you didn't do this but we've got your DNA at the scene and a half done autopsy, which you have the skills to perform. We'll have to hold you for now. You'll need a solicitor – do you know someone?"

She shook her head.

"Right, we'll call the public defenders service. Can I call anyone else for you?"

"Yes, eh, would you call John Watson?"

"Molly, are you sure? He's been a wreck since Sherlock's death. Barely leaves Baker St."

"I know. I've seen him too but maybe helping me will give him something to focus on."

A surprisingly lucid idea for someone accused of murder, thought Lestrade.

"Ok, I'll call him."