Molly Hooper sat curled up on the sofa of her flat with her cat Toby lying over her feet to keep them warm as she watched Doctor Who re-runs on BBC3 waiting for the text that would tell her if she would have a night to herself or if she would be dragged out of her comfortable pyjamas and out into the cold of London to go to work on a corpse at Sherlock's request. It wasn't that she minded him asking for help, it was more the fact that he practically demanded it whatever time or weather and showed little to no appreciation for her efforts. Molly Hooper was not the foolish little pathologist Sherlock saw her as and try as she might it seemed like she would never change his mind about her. She hadn't been trying to get his attention to indulge in a romance with him, she was trying to show that she was an independent woman of her own right who should be appreciated not only for her generosity with her time but also for her intelligence and looks. She knew she wasn't a supermodel but Molly thought she should be enough of a woman to attract a brief glance at her, even from the great Sherlock Holmes.
The vibration of Molly's phone signifying a text was greeted with her exasperated sigh as she gently removed Toby from her feet and went to the bedroom to get changed into some clothes appropriate for work without even checking the message. She knew what it would say. Something along the lines of 'Morgue, now' never a polite 'Please Molly' or 'could you come soon please' not even a little 'thanks for coming'. Molly changed into her black trousers and plain green blouse before toeing on her flats and grabbing her bag, only briefly stopping to turn off the television, grab her phone and check Toby was properly fed and watered. The streets of London were even colder than Molly remembered as she realised that she had forgotten a coat as soon as she had locked the door behind her. Deciding to just go along to St Bart's without the extra delay she set off at a quick pace, eager to get into the warm sooner rather than later. Molly reached the hospital in five minutes due to her quick pace and gratefully entered the warm hospital before getting in the lift to go down to the morgue. Hurriedly putting her things on her desk and shrugging on her lab coat Molly exited her office, head down as she pulled her hair into a neat ponytail at the back of her head.
"Look Sherlock, I don't mind doing this but some warning or thanks would be nice. I'm not your employee and I don't get paid for this, it's out of the good of my already generous heart." Molly groused as she tugged at her hair, aware that somebody was already stood waiting for her in the lab.
"I apologise for my brother's lack of manners Doctor Hooper, I can assure you that it isn't without the failed efforts of both myself and our mother." Molly shot her head up as she finished tying her hair back to see an imposing man stood in a three piece suit looking at her in amusement as he leant against his umbrella casually as though he spent all of his time in the morgue, just as Molly did and not at all fazed by being surrounded by cadavers. "Mycroft Holmes, how do you do?" This man, Mycroft, held his hand out towards Molly for her to shake. She did so, her brain freezing with the embarrassment of the outburst she had been working up to being herd by the wrong person.
"I am so sorry you had to hear that, Mr Holmes I-I'm not usually so unprofessional." Molly blushed slightly; cringing inwardly at her nervous stutter, damn her anxiety coming out at a time like this.
"It is perfectly fine Doctor Hooper, I have heard much worse things said about Sherlock than that over his lifetime, I'm sure that comes as no surprise to you since you have the pleasure of working with the fool." Mycroft smiled stiffly, as though his face was not used to the movement. Molly nodded slightly swallowing the excess saliva in her life and sighing as it became clear that despite his urging text, Sherlock was not present.
"If you don't mind me asking, where is Sherlock tonight since he summoned me from my flat at this time of night?" Molly's jaw clenched as she realised that she had been dragged to work at quarter past ten at night, she was officially due at work in exactly ten hours and depending on how long this would take she may have to work on six hours sleep, not exactly conducive to competent dissection.
"You didn't read the text did you? You just knew it would be him summoning you to do his bidding." Mycroft let out a sharp bark of false laughter, making Molly jump at the harsh sound "He said you wouldn't check it, you've allowed him to have far too much power Doctor Hooper, he now has expectations. My brother simply ordered the delivery of the corpse to your slab, he himself won't be showing up but I'm sure he will be expecting a full report on it by morning. Unfortunately Sherlock lacks a sense of time and how normal people function when they have a full-time job and other commitments." Molly's jaw tensed as she realised just how much Sherlock was taking advantage of her, sending her to work for him without even showing up to explain why she was cutting up this person on her slab in her free time when she should have been at home in bed or watching television to wind down for the night. "I however volunteered to explain everything to you since my brother seems incompetent of finishing a simple task such as supervision or giving instruction."
"I'll bloody kill him when I get my hands on him." Molly growled to herself as she snapped on her latex gloves and moved towards the sterilizer to get her kit together.
"That's yet another sentiment I've heard many a time in reference to my brother, usually uttered by myself or Doctor John Watson although Watson seems to use much more uncouth language than ourselves. Perhaps because he has lost some of his restraint in his extended presence within both my brother's life and his flat." Molly almost pulled a muscle as she heard Mycroft speak in reference to her cursing that she was sure had been almost silent.
"I'm so sorry, that's twice I've insulted your brother in front of you, I'll try to contain myself in future." It seemed to Molly that all she seemed to be doing tonight is apologizing for the mysterious figure of Sherlock's previously unmentioned brother.
"On the contrary Doctor Hooper, I find it rather amusing that somebody else shares my irritation with Sherlock as opposed to fawning over him because of his fondness of peacocking his intelligence. If it was up to me then he would have used his brain in a way much more befitting both his ancestry and his intelligence levels." Mycroft remained in the same position the entire time he had been speaking to Molly and goodness knows how long before that.
"Mr Holmes you can call me Molly, there's no need for formalities, I am here in my own time not on the clock. You can take a seat if you wish, either on one of the stools or in the office wherever you prefer." Molly threw him a bland smile as she placed her instruments on the metal tray before moving to unzip the body bag that was on the morgue table but Mycroft's reply stopped her.
"Alright thank you then Molly, I extend the same offer to you." Mycroft nodded respectfully at her before continuing "I'm rather intrigued by what my idiot of a brother has sent you this time, I think I will stay and observe. I was interested in pathology for a brief time during my university years but was swayed towards politics by my father and this am where I am today, an unmentionable." Mycroft smirked at the in-joke with himself about his employment. Molly's smile brightened at his words and she gestured for him to come closer.
"Nobody had ever requested to watch me work, people always seem rather put-off when they hear about my career choice. They really shouldn't be so scared about death. Anyway I'd best get on." Mycroft came and stood slightly further away from the table, his piqued interest just about visible on his face. Molly turned to the table, scalpel ready in her right hand as she began to unzip the body bag. She had only got it about a foot down, not even far enough to see inside when the occupant sat up sharply, Molly's scalpel slicing the cadaver's forehead as she jumped away from the slab, a high-pitched scream releasing itself from her lungs as her heart thumped against her ribcage far harder than usual. Mycroft himself also jumped but to a lesser extent, moving slightly in front of Molly, umbrella pointed in front of him like a sword towards the somehow undead corpse.
"Are you serious Molly Hooper? You sliced my head open you infernal woman! Bloody hell it won't stop, you'll have to stitch it for me. And Mycroft you pompous pig you're no better, telling tales about me to my pathologist while I lie here on the slab ready to be carved up like a joint at Sunday dinner." Sherlock's haughty voice floated loudly from the bag towards the living occupants of the room
"Sherlock? It's you in the bag?" Molly squeaked, her heartbeat gradually slowing as she placed the scalpel back on the tray and went to unzip the bag further.
"Of course it is you imbecile, now unzip this damn bag and sew my head up for me." Sherlock barked. With a glance at Mycroft's disapproving frown, Molly's confidence grew as she wrenched open the body bag.
"There you're out, now go up to A&E and get your stitches before you force me to cause more damage you fool. You do not put yourself in a body bag in order to spy on me Sherlock Holmes, you do not drag me out of my apartment at quarter past ten at night to humor your stupid little attention-seeking tricks and you most certainly do not send your brother in your place to order me about. As lovely as Mycroft is and despite how much I currently prefer his company to yours I would prefer to only work when necessary so I suggest you find another pathologist if all you are going to do is waste my time." Molly ripped off her latex gloves furiously as she spoke, her voice getting louder as she went on, throwing the gloves in Sherlock's face and moving to replace the dissection materials back into the sterilizer. Finally she stormed into her office, shrugging off her lab coat and grabbing her belongings ready to leave again. As she returned to the morgue it was silent, Sherlock still gaping like a fish at her outburst of rage towards him and Mycroft looking vaguely surprised and impressed. Molly took a deep cleansing breath before addressing Mycroft.
"It has been lovely to meet you this evening Mycroft but I'm afraid I need to get home since I start early in the morning. I hope we can meet again upon better circumstances." Molly smiled tightly, her lips pressed together as she offered her hand for Mycroft to shake before she left. Mycroft shook her hand warmly before replying.
"It has been a pleasure, can I offer you a lift back home? I have a car waiting for me outside." Molly nodded her thanks and took the arm that Mycroft gentlemanly offered to her before turning to say one final thing to Sherlock.
"Oh and Sherlock, I'm not your pathologist, I'm my own pathologist and you should remember that next time I may not come when you call." And with that the odd pair left the hospital, slipping into the black Sedan waiting out front as Mycroft had promised.
And that is how it all started.