She was different than everyone; she was something entirely new to him. She was something he had never been before. She acted differently and it intrigued him. She intrigued him more than he would ever admit.
The year was 1887 and Molly Hooper is working at St. Bart's Hospital. Not as a nurse as most women were at the time. No, she was the pathologist; day in and day out, she was looking at dead people. It was tiring to have to explain to people, that 'Yes I am Doctor Hooper. I did not get this job because my parents were rich psychopaths. Yes, I am a woman' every time someone meet her at the morgue.
She had been working in tandem with Scotland Yard for about a year now. If there was a body that needed looking at, it was sent to her to inspect.
"What happened to this one, Molly?" Detective Inspector Lestrade asked, looking at the body of a young woman. "We had one of the men check it out but I thought you should look at her. He said she choked on her food." Molly spent a few moments studying the woman lying dead on the table.
"Did you swab the inside of her moth, by any chance?"
"No" he said, surprised "Why would we do that?"
"Oh, it's just that if she was poisoned, her stomach acid might act up. Does she have acid reflex?"
Lestrade shook his head and handed Molly a piece of litmus paper. She opened the mouth and stuck the little slip of paper in. The little blue paper turned a bright red.
"She either had a severe case of acid reflex that came out of nowhere or she was poisoned, Lestrade."
"Thanks. I should go tell the others. What would we do without?" he said as he ran out the door. She just shook her head. Sometimes these policemen could be so closed minded.
She often got messages from the police force or from her mother. Her mother would write in her usually cheerful fashion, urging Molly to find a husband and make some grandchildren. Molly loved her mother, but it's hard to love a woman entirely when she liked to set you up and nag you about how you weren't married or being courted by 'a fine young man'.
So she was not surprised that morning when she received a telegram. She was in the middle of inspecting a body and as her gloves had blood all over them, she waited before she looked at the telegram. She put the body 'away' and placed her bloody gloves in the sink. The telegram read as follows:
Dr. Hooper
I should like to use your laboratory at St. Bart's Hospital for my research. I shall send my friend, Dr. Watson to meet you there. Thank you.
Sherlock
Molly looked down at it with a confused look. She didn't know any Sherlocks and the only person she knew of with that name was...
'NO…..You don't think...no, no, it can't be…' she thought 'It can't be the Sherlock Holmes. Can it?'
Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.
"There's someone here to see you, Dr. Hooper" the nurse said "Should I let them in? He says his name is John Watson."
Molly just nodded. This was either a practical joke or the actual Sherlock Holmes, who was known far and wide as a consulting detective, needed her lab and possibly her skills.
"Hello. I'm Doctor Watson" a man said, entering the lab. A look of confusion crossed his face when he realized that it was a woman, not a man, standing before him. He quickly covered his emotion and went to shake Molly's hand. He was just slightly taller than her and was dressed quite casually in an old looking suit. Molly looked down at her shirt stained with some blood and a patched up skirt. Along with the messy bun that was holding her hair; she could have been mistaken as a homeless person or even a crazy one.
"Sorry for my appearance. I was working." She said, sheepishly.
"It's fine. Sherlock comes in and out of Baker Street with all types of costumes." He replied. There was a moment of silence as he took in all of the facts; mainly, that this 'Doctor Hooper' was a woman. He gave a little smile. "Bet Sherlock wasn't expecting that'
"Thank you for meeting me." Watson said "You work is quite famous, Doctor Hooper."
"My work?" she scoffed "It's probably infamous because a man is not the one cutting the cadavers. People seem to get very excitable about my gender; you know, because I'm not a man. Oh, and call me Molly. Doctor Hopper is too formal."
"Thank you. Call me John."
"So, why does Sherlock need to use this laboratory?"
"He isn't allowed to so any more experiments because the last on burnt a huge hole through the carpet. And since you are a pathologist and are connected to Scotland Yard, it would be easy for him to look at the dead bodies and test his theories. "
"Ok. Where is Sherlock now?"
"Well, he's on a case and..." Suddenly the door was pushed open by a small boy He ran in and gave John a piece of paper.
"He said it was urgent sir" the boy said before either Molly or John could say anything, then ran out.
"What does it say?" Molly asked, as John hurriedly read the paper. His face transformed to a small look of confusion.
"It's from Sherlock. We have to meet him at the train station." John said, running out as fast as he could.
"We?" Molly asked dawdling behind him. She followed him out onto the street, to see him running. "Hurry up! Sherlock hates it when I'm late!" As if by some instinct, her legs began to carry her after John.