Disclaimer: I do not own BBC Sherlock

The End of The World, Maybe

Chapter 1: Irene Adler

You may think that working at a mortuary would mean that you're okay with bodies and gore and death. That wasn't the case for Molly Hooper, she would sometimes, quite regularly actually, wake up in the middle of the night due to nightmares filled with faces of her deceased patients.

Lately, the dreams had been about a woman, that woman. The one that Sherlock was able to identify. It was definitely surprising when he had done so by looking at her, well, body. And even more surprising when Mrs. Hudson lead Molly into 221B and found the suppose-to-be dead woman towering over Sherlock, scantly dressed in Sherlock's bathrobe.

~ ~.:KO'C:.~ ~

"Sherlock?"

"Too late."

"It's not the end of the world, it's Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock explained.

Irene stood up and coldly gazed at toward the door as the old woman walked through.

"Sherlock, is your doorbell still not working?" Questioned Mrs Hudson as she stepped into the darkened flat.

"He shot it." Mrs. Hudson explained simply as, curious enough, Molly Hooper walked in.

Molly quickly took in the living room. She hadn't been here since Christmas and it had clearly changed for the worse. Papers were spewed across the desk, coffee table and floor. Old tea mugs were stacked next to the two comforter chairs. The fire place was lit, warming up the room a considerable bit. She looked upon Sherlock (dressed rather dashingly) and a woman wearing... Sherlock's bathrobe?

Wait... what?

Molly knew that face, of course she did. She should be dead, lying in the mortuary. But here she was, standing there... not dead, but Molly had seen the body. There hadn't been any pulse. She couldn't be alive right now... was this a dream?

To sum up her thoughts, Molly let out an inelegant "eep".

"Articulate, this one, Mr. Holmes." Irene said demeaningly.

Mrs. Hudson was about to scold Sherlock's new friend as he cut across the old woman's words with a small smile, "You're no longer needed, Mrs. Hudson. Have a nice evening."

"I should hope so." She replied curtly and left, closing the door behind her.

"Ms. Hooper?" Asked Sherlock as he placed his violin in its case and stood; brushing off his suit coat, "Might I ask what you are doing here at this hour?"

For the first time in her life, Molly didn't have her attention focused on Sherlock.

"You're dead... or you were... uh, right?"

"Can you rephrase that question, Dear?" Irene said smoothly as she glanced back at Sherlock, "Going to introduce me, Sherlock?"

Great, Molly thought to herself, now the dead woman and her crush were on first name basis.

"Molly, Irene Adler. Irene, Molly Hooper."

"You're dead! Sherlock believed so! There wasn't a bloody pulse!" Molly exclaimed, trying to prove that she wasn't going insane and imagining things.

"Well, it's quite ingenious, Ms. Hooper. Irene here had a very intricate-"

"- I take pride in my skilled doctors, Sweety," Irene answered, "Oh come now, Sherlock, don't look like that. I need to retain some mystery. It gives me effect."

She was wearing Sherlock's robe, Molly figured she had more than enough effect.

That and the fact the the two seemed rather engaged when she had entered with Mrs. Hudson, it was more than enough to put her on edge.

"Since it seems that it has slipped your mind, Molly, I shall reiterate my unanswered question: Why are you here?"

Molly flinched at his tone. Yes, they were clearly interrupted from something by her unexpected appearance, she deduced.

"John had called, he'd asked me to remove some thumbs that you had acquired that he said were well past the 'best if used by' date."

Sherlock stood straighter as his brow furrowed in annoyance, he had informed John not to interfere with his projects, especially after last time, "Unneeded. It's an experiment."

Irene watched with amusement as the shy girl shuffled her feet.

"A-are you sure?"

"Very." Sherlock confirmed.

Giving a barely audible sigh, Molly turned to leave, disappointed. She really didn't want to leave Sherlock here. Alone. With her.

As her hand twisted the knob and she took her first step out, Irene called for her to stop.

Looking over her shoulder, Molly watched as the mysterious woman gave an almost sexual look at Sherlock, "Let the poor girl play with your body parts, Sherlock."

Molly blushed and Sherlock cleared his throat, about to speak, but Irene continued, "I went to get some milk this morning for breakfast and was hit with the most vile of smells. Perhaps it's an experiment gone wrong."

Molly blushed furiously again. This lady seemed to have the talent for twisting anything into a sexual gesture.

Sherlock looked alarmed, "Would never happen. But if you must – follow me."

Sherlock rubbed past the woman, giving her a knowing look and headed into the kitchen with Molly directly behind him. Irene leaned against the sliding doors connecting the kitchen to the den.

Sherlock opened the fridge door as Molly peeped over his shoulder. And a wave of stench blew into Sherlock's face as he stumbled backward... right into Molly, who wrapped him in her arms in order it keep them from falling his lab equipment sprawled across the kitchen table.

A few seconds of silence passed as no one moved until, "Stick the landing better next time, Honey." Came Irene's chuckling voice and Molly was sure that it was in response to her once again blushing cheeks.

Molly stood up a bit too quickly and caused Sherlock to stumble and grab the edge of the table in an effort to steady himself.

"Oh! Sorry, Sher-"

"No matter." Huffed Sherlock as he fattened his shirt.

Turning to the fridge, Sherlock waved his hand in front of his face, trying to dissipate the smell along with the tension in the room before reaching into a side drawer.

His hand retraced quickly as he slammed the door shut.

Molly could see Irene stiffen as the smell finally reached her.

"Perhaps," Said Sherlock slowly, "They are bad."

"Told you." Irene retorted.

"Incorrect."

"Oh?"

"Yes. You only said that Molly should have a look at them. Implying that you, yourself didn't know if the thumbs were in a good condition or not. The manner of your shoulders said that you had a nagging feeling that you didn't truly know. The way you stood back while I approached the fridge shows that you thought that perhaps the the experiment was doing fine and I was correct. And the way that your left foot curled around the right ankle shows that overall you were confident in your assessment of the thumbs this morning - rotten. Finally, the way in which your eyes looked over to the lowest drawer as I opened the fridge and fell back shows that you also think that the lamb's leg I have is bad too. Quite incorrect, I am testing a bacteria and am keeping a close eye on it, thank you very much." Sherlock finished and fixed Irene with a questioning look, "Anything wrong?"

"Not that I'm aware of. You certainly perfected the new sexy."

"I should hope so. It is my living, after all."

Watching the exchange, Molly closed her gaping mouth and took a chance at asking a stupid question.

"Which is what, exactly?"

"Thinking." Sherlock said shortly as he thrust the bag of bloody thumbs to her before looking back at Irene, "Shame about the thumbs. It is your fault, Ms. Adler, for preoccupying my time and causing this experimental disaster."

"Glad I could help, Mr. Holmes." Irene smirked.

That certainly made Molly mind swirl. Occupy him how, exactly?"

Molly blushed as Sherlock looked downward at her, "There you are, all set. If there's nothing else..."

"Ah, um, no. I don't think so."

"Good. I was deep in thought before you interrupted and I wish to resume that." Sherlock strode over to his chair beside the fireplace and tuckered in.

Molly moved for the door, "I guess I'll be seeing you later, then."

"I expect so." Replied Sherlock, his eyes reflecting the flames as he paid her no mind.

Taking one last look at the woman, Molly was met with a predatory smile.

Lowering her eyes, Molly muttered out one last 'goodbye', and closed the door behind her.

Slowly moving down the stairs, trying to process what had just happened, Molly barely heard the front door open then close.

"Molly?"

The voice snapped her out of her thoughts, "What? Oh, hi John... got your thumbs. Well, not yours, but... yeah."

Molly offered the bag to him and with a wrinkled nose, he took it.

"Great, thanks!" John said as Molly moved past him in a daze.

"Molly," John stopped her, "Are you okay? You seem a little out of it."

"Who is she? That woman?"

"Irene?" John said with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes, her."

"You have questions?"

"Yes."

"Many?"

"Definitely."

"Mrs. Hudson?" John yelled toward Mrs. Hudson's kitchen, "Put on some tea, would you?"

An annoyed reply resounded back, "Not your housekeeper!"

"Com'on." Said John as he pulled Molly by her hand and lead her down the rest of the stairs into Mrs. Hudson's small kitchen.

A/N: There will be one more chapter (Titled: Answers), which is written and will be posted tomorrow when I get home.

I've never written anything for Sherlock before (I focus on other fandoms – mainly with easier characters to portray than Sherlock) so let me know if Sherlock was Sherlock enough.

Review to your heart's content, because frankly, that's what those amazingly, beautiful buttons down there are for.