"What do you know of Sherlock Holmes, Miss Hooper?"

Molly Hooper's brow furrowed and she chewed her lower lip thoughtfully. Her chocolate brown eyes were lowered to her hands, where she busily chipped off the nail polish she had painted on for exactly that reason. In the past, she had bitten her nails, a nervous habit, and had finally taught herself to chip off her polish instead.

"I, I don't understand sir?"

"What. Do. You. Know. Of. Sherlock. Holmes?" Each word was a sentence of its own and she looked up at the man who asked, her face apprehensive. "I'd appreciate it if you would simply answer me, Miss Hooper, no questions asked."

For not the first time, Molly wondered exactly what the hell she had gotten herself into. This job interview felt more like an interrogation from the cold man in front of her. She wracked her brain for information.

"Umm, he's brilliant, right? Used to help Scotland Yard with solving crimes." She shook her head. "But he disappeared a few years ago, didn't he? The papers said he just shut himself up in his home one day and never came back out."

The scarily serious man across from her smiled a reptilian smile which sent shivers down her spine. Molly just wanted to escape the man's gaze, it seemed like he was looking straight through her. Examining her. He sat back, rubbing a finger across his lips as he scrutinized her through narrowed eyes.

"Would you like to meet him?"

She sputtered. "What?"

He sighed the most long suffering, exasperated sigh she had ever heard, and leaned forward, pinning her with his glare. "Miss Hooper, I don't care how intelligent you are, if you wish for Sherlock to put up with you for more than one day, you are going to have to be able to speak a full sentence without tripping all over yourself."

Molly bristled, straightening in her chair. "Excuse me, Mr… whatever your name is, but whether I can put together a sentence is irrelevant. I'm top of my class, and have plenty of hands on experience in the medical field. I don't know what exactly it is that you want from me, but if it has anything to do with that, I can assure you that you will find no one more qualified than I am." She nodded her head curtly at the end, trying to seem more confident than she felt. Her insides were squirming with nerves but she kept her face untouched by her inner turmoil.

Molly Hooper was strong. Years of hiding her emotions had left her with the uncanny ability to take whatever abuse that came her way with a completely indifferent demeanor. At the age of 23, she was described as timid and shy by some. By others, she was labelled cold, unfeeling and calculating. Her reluctance to show her true self resulted in alienation from her classmates at the university where she was indisputably the most brilliant and dedicated student studying medicine. In a few short years, she hoped to have her degree in forensic pathology.

And she would, if she could come up with the money for classes.

Though undeniably smart, Molly Hooper had trouble getting the money she needed for school. All the scholarships were designated for certain groups of people and unfortunately, Molly didn't fit the bill.

In truth, she would not have had any problems, had she not suddenly become an orphan a few years prior under mysterious circumstances. In the time since then, she had been as frugal as possible, trying to make her meager inheritance last through school but not even her brilliant mind could make the money stretch any further.

That is how she found herself going through this ridiculous excuse for a job interview.

One of her professors, the one who had taken the shy aspiring pathologist under his wing, had called her to his office one day and informed her that one of his oldest friends was looking for someone who had an intimate knowledge of bodies for a job. He had recommended her, knowing that she needed the money.

Molly's eyes had bugged when he told her that all her school expenses would be paid, she would be given a place to live with paid utilities and an allowance for whatever expenses she might have. When she hesitantly asked what her duties would be, her professor had replied with a shrug.

"Whatever it is, it won't be conventional," he replied. "But I can promise you it won't be boring either."

He had winked at her and given her a paper with a date, time and address on it. Which is where she was at that precise moment.

Staring down an impassive man dressed impeccably in a three piece suit.

Molly shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, her façade breaking a little as she regretted her clothing choice for the umpteenth time since she'd set foot in the room. She was dressed in her normal clothes, which not only were several years old, due to lack of funds, but also horribly old-maid-like. Molly freely admitted than she had no fashion sense whatsoever and since she planned to spend the rest of her life with the company of the dead (ooo it sounds horrible when I put it that way) she didn't put any effort into learning how to dress herself.

After a moment, he wore her down completely and she began chewing on her lip and running her fingers though the ends of her long, brown ponytail. She smoothed the wrinkles out of her plain, sage green trousers and played with the lacy ends of her sleeves as her interrogator continued to stare at her.

He huffed, his decision made, and Molly prepared herself to hear him say that he appreciated her coming but that he wouldn't be needing her. To her surprise, what came out of his mouth was quite different.

"I like you, Miss Hooper. I believe you will be able to handle my brother quite well indeed."

She gasped slightly, shocked at his pronouncement.

He stood and handed her an envelope.

"There is an advance. You'll start tomorrow. There will be a car around to pick you up from your place of residence at precisely six o'clock in the evening. You do not have classes tomorrow so I suggest you spend the day packing up your essentials and preparing to move. Also, you might want to use some of that money to acquire a new wardrobe. Something more suitable for your new position."

She gazed at him incredulously. "Ummm, sir? What exactly is my new position? You never told me what I'll be doing."

"Oh, I thought it was obvious. You'll be assistant to the only consulting detective in the world." He marked the title with air quotes and a sarcastic tone. "You will examine crime scenes and bodies then report back to my brother."

Molly gasped in earnest this time as she put two and two together.

She'd heard whispers of Mycroft Holmes. The most powerful man in England. And she'd been speaking to him for the last hour without even knowing it. She mentally berated herself.

Now you've done it, Molly. You're royally screwed now.

"What about my classes, sir?"

"You'll be given time off for your classes, though your schedule will change. I have arranged for you to have private classes each morning."

She stared at him, speechless until a sudden thought came to her.

"You already made arrangements…"

"Yes, Miss Hooper, I was already sure of you before you walked in the door."

"You could've spared me the agony," she muttered under her breath and thought she caught a slight smile from him as he stood and strode past her to the door, opening it and effectively dismissing her.

As she passed by him, he called to the woman sitting at the desk outside his office. "Anthea, take tomorrow morning out of the office and procure some suitable clothing for Miss Hooper." He gave Molly a cold smile. "I doubt you would know what to do with your money, so use it to buy things for your new home instead. Your clothing will be waiting for you when you arrive at your new place."

"Where will I be living?" she asked, cocking her head to the side in inquiry.

"221B Baker Street."