So, I received a prompt from my dear Autumn-Grace, who was struggling with it. So, I took a stab at it, this is the result. Hope you enjoy!
Oh, I don't own diddly. Sad, sad day for me.
Prompt: What if Molly and Sherlock met when Sherlock collected Mrs. Hudson from (any) hospital after an accident in which her hip got hurt, there Molly just had a job interview. This is why the two woman know each other and Molly knows about Mrs. Hudson's hip an all that.
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He walked down the hall quickly, trying his best not to show his worry. As soon as he reached the nurse's station, answers were top priority.
"Name?" the nurse asked in annoyance.
"Hudson, Martha Hudson." His deep voice replied.
"What's your relation?"
"F…family." The question had stumped him only for a second, before logic took over. He knew he would get answers faster if he claimed to be hers.
"Just down the hall, to the left." The nurse pointed in the direction of a lone room at the corner of one corridor. His legs carried him quickly and gracefully to the room, where he knocked as he entered the room.
"Sherlock, dear. Thank you so much for coming. I didn't know who else to put down as a contact." The older lady's voice sounded a bit drugged, but she looked hardly worse-for-wear. Sherlock smiled at her quickly, before making his way to her side. Mrs. Hudson chuckled as he leaned over, kissing her forehead. He took a seat in the chair next to her bed, and clasped his hands together.
"So, what feat were you attempting to accomplish that landed you with a broken hip and a trip to A&E?" He asked with a smirk.
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She nervously folded and unfolded her hands in her lap as she waited for the interviewing doctor to return. She really wanted this job, and had given herself about fifteen little pep talks on the way from her small flat to St. Bart's hospital. The door opened and closed again behind her, and she sucked in a nervous breath.
"Hello, you're Miss Hooper, correct?" The kind man asked. Molly nodded her head and smiled at his cheerful accent.
"Yes, and you may call me Molly."
"Ah, well, Molly, I'm Dr. Stamford, you can call me Mike. It's a pleasure to meet you." Molly shook the hand he offered her.
"You too." She said quietly.
"Well now, you have quite the impressive educational resume' here. Top marks in all your courses, graduated in the top five of your classes, plus some of the highest references from your professors I think I've ever seen." He filtered through the papers in front of him, trying to find a suitable place to start. Molly smiled shyly upon his praise, and was absolutely gobsmacked at what he said next.
"You've got the job, if you want. I realize you'll want to see the facilities. That's understandable, but the position is yours." He nodded his head as he declared it. Molly beamed excitedly.
"Is there any way I can see the lab and morgue while I'm here? I mean, I definitely want the post, and I've heard that the equipment and facilities here are top notch. I just… I want to know what I'll be working with…if that's alright." Molly slowed down toward the end of her rambling, realizing she had been speaking superbly fast. Stamford laughed and nodded his head.
"Sure, it's no problem at all. We'll go down now. Oh, I hope you don't mind, we have to cut through A&E first. I have a friend who apparently needs my opinion on something. Right this way." He nodded in the direction of the lifts as Molly stood looking a bit lost. She smiled and followed behind him, trying her hardest not to show her excitement.
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"Maybe I should just sublet one of them to you, Sherlock." Mrs. Hudson smiled. Sherlock gave a quick nod, approving the thought.
"That would definitely be a more productive venture than trying to clear the damp off the ceiling by yourself. I'll come have a look when you are back to feeling better." Sherlock stated his offer, and then stood, hearing the hearty laugh of one Mike Stamford. There was a knock at the door, followed by the two bodies entering the room.
"Sherlock, are you in- oh hi, mate. What did you need?" Mike poked his head through the door first, before fully entering once he had seen the man in question. Molly followed close behind, not sure of what else to do. Upon entry, she first set her eyes on the petite woman in the hospital bed. However, as he spoke, Molly found that she could not tear her gaze from the startlingly handsome man standing in front of Dr. Stamford.
"Ah, Mike. I need to look at those books you had on internet software, it's for a case." His low voice was glorious, as was the rest of them. She was starrtled out of her trance as he continued on.
"Who's this?" Sherlock asked, his voice hardly sounding intrigued. Molly made a slight squeak as her eyes met his. 'Such amazing eyes.' She thought.
"This is Molly Hooper, she's going to be our new pathologist." Mike smiled proudly. Sherlock turned to square up with her, gazing quickly over her features. Molly blushed and looked away.
"Those are back in my office, can it wait a bit?" Mike chimed in.
"Afraid not, Mike. Important case. I'm sure Miss Hooper won't mind waiting here, will you." It wasn't a question, but a command hidden behind kinder words. 'You will stay.' His eyes said.
"Oh, I don't mind." Molly smiled and shook her head. The tall man smirked and nodded curtly.
"Excellent. Mike, lead the way." He turnedto follow the shorter man out the door.
"I'll be right back." He said with a smile. Molly nodded her head and watched as they exited. She then decided it would be polite to keep the older woman company.
"Hi, I'm Molly." She said as she took the chair next to the bed.
"Hello dear. I'm Martha." She extended a willowy hand, which was currently occupied by an IV. They shook gently, and Molly sat back in her chair.
"So, what landed you in A&E?" Molly asked, making small talk. The kind lady smiled at her.
"Well, I've got a basement flat in my unit. There's a big patch of damp, right in the middle of the living room ceiling. I'm trying to fix up the place so I can rent it out. I took a spill off the chair, landed right on my hip. Sherlock, dear boy, said he'd just come stay in the upstairs flat, and look at the basement for me." She rattled on and on, the tubes connected to her vein flying about as she moved her hands. Molly felt so sad that such a sweet lady had to manage by herself.
"Well that's sweet of him. You're very fortunate to have such a caring son." Molly replied when Mrs. Hudson had finished. The elder laughed out loud, surprising Molly with the volume.
"Oh, my dear. Sherlock isn't my son." She corrected the young woman.
"He isn't? But you two seem so…"
"Close? Yes, well, I suppose I do treat him like a son. I'm really just a former client of his. Helped me with a sour deal my husband had got wrapped up in." Molly only nodded as Mrs. Hudson explained.
"Is he like a detective or something?" She asked. The hairs on the nape of her neck and her arms stood up on end as she heard him speak.
"I'm not like a detective. I am a detective. A consulting detective, only one in the world. Come now, Mrs. Hudson. Surely you told her the difference." He rattled off the one sided conversation quickly. Molly smiled at his cleverly strung words, which caught the tall, handsome man off guard. He stared intently at her.
"Right, well…we better go get you sorted, Molly." Mike looked between the two, giving Sherlock an odd look. He then glanced to Mrs. Hudson, who gave a smug smile. Molly nodded her head, turning away from his intrusive stare.
"Well, I hope your hip feels better soon, Martha." She squeezed her hand gently, and stood to leave.
"Treat her well, yea?" She looked up into his eyes, grinning nervously. She stepped around him, nearing the door. He, however, caught her by her wrist.
"My number. If you are to be the new pathologist, I will need you to text me any important details on cases." Sherlock slipped a scratch piece of paper into her hand. She stuttered, before finally mumbling a soft 'okay'.
As they walked down the hall, Molly searched for a way to ask the question on her mind. Mike beat her to the punch.
"Yea, he's always like that."
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SOME TIME LATER
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"How's the hip?"
"Oh it's atrocious. Thanks for asking."
"I've seen much worse. But then I do post-mortems."
After his horrible deductions of her, he saw the terribly disappointed expression on Mrs. Hudson's face. Words from the first time they met came flooding back to his mind, only he found them applying more toward the crumbling woman in front of him, rather than his sickly-sweet landlady.
'Treat her well, yea?'
He fully intended to.
"I am sorry. Forgive me."
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And there we have it. :D Just a small one shot for my dear Autumn-Grace. I hope you liked it! Let me know what you think, yea?