From the author:
Hello, I'm trying to connect this story to my other stories like at the morgue, the fall, or Sebastian's Journal. I believe Richard Brook was Jim Moriarty's real name and that's why Sherlock couldn't find out Jim and Carl Powers connection(TGG). Everything is fictional and I owe nothing.
Any comments are very welcome - reviews , plot ideas, grammatical mistakes, word choices... I'm not a native speaker so such tips are encouraging me greatly.
Thank you for reading.
"Excuse me… You dropped this book."
Molly stopped mumbling from her anger at the woman who had bumped into her and disappeared without an apology minutes before. It was almost Christmas and the tube was crowded: people were crazy for last-minute Christmas shopping. After work, Molly didn't need to hurry so she walked rather slower: it might have been her fault because the woman glared at her. Her elbow was hurt. Massaging her arm, she wondered.
Why modern age people forget to say nice words like I'm sorry or please.
Her face warmed instantly when she remembered the words, "I'm sorry. Forgive me." from the man who had to fake his death. Sherlock Holmes. Just to think of him made her eyes burn a little. She remembered when she saw him for the last time in her own morgue: a pale face wincing with pain from the fall, curly black hair dripping of blood, and his last whispers "Would you check on him for me?" She sighed, wondering about the detective from whom she hadn't heard for a long time. She missed him. She saw Sherlock working in the lab and heard his voice from time to time or she had gone crazy, hearing voices and seeing things.
"Isn't it yours?"
A low voice, just like the detective's. It couldn't be. Startled, Molly turned around and saw a tall blonde man with a military bearing, holding out her "Toxicology".
"Thank you. I didn't know it fell."
She put the book in her shoulder bag. The man was slightly panting, apparently running up the stairs after her.
"You kept going so I had to run."
Suddenly his eyes sparkled with a boyish grin.
"You look familiar. I think we've met."
Molly stared at the man: in the 21st century, he was acting "how to flirt for dummies".
"I'm afraid you're mistaken. Thanks for the book."
With a smile, Molly started to walk away when she heard the man's words.
"At the FOX."
The FOX, a cafeteria near her hospital. She stopped going to the cafeteria after she broke up with Jim from the IT. Molly looked at the man again: in his mid thirties, a long nose, bush eyebrows, thin lips, penetrating eyes - unlike Sherlock, his body was well-built.
"Oh, now I remember. You took Jim away. "
A slight amusement was in her voice when she remembered that night when she had last dated Jimmy. She couldn't shake off what Sherlock had told her at the lab. Jim's sexual orientation didn't bother her: only a couple of dates with Jim. Rather, she was more upset because it was Sherlock himself that revealed the fact on top of his comment about her weight. Jim ordered coffees, trying to calm her down with his oily eloquence; Jim's eyes had an incomprehensible pity for her. Then this man walked into the place; Jim jumped up and almost ran away with a promise of calling her later. Later, she regretted what had happened; Jim was a good man and could be a good friend. So Molly left comments on her blog and tried to contact him to no avail. He quitted the job the very day or rather, didn't show up from the next day. She hasn't heard of Jim Moriarty until Sherlock told her about Jim's breaking into the Tower of London -she didn't have TV at home and she was very busy that month when Jim made headlines for the trial of the century. The man looked pleased to see her. Rubbing his hands and shuddering, he asked.
"How about a cup of coffee? It's cold. They say we're going to have white Christmas. "
He pointed at a Starbucks nearby.
"Thank you. But I have to go home."
He looked down at his shoes, somehow looking sad and lost. His voice was almost a plea.
"Just ten minutes, please… I had lost my friend, Jim Moriarty, and I just need someone who will listen to me. You also know Jim."
Something in his defeated voice made Molly follow the man into a nearby coffee place. He might be suffering from a survivor's guilt like her. Ever since Sherlock "fell" from Bart's, Molly had suffered from the guilt when she saw the others who were left behind like John. It was merciful that she didn't need to see John often unless she visited 221B on Mrs. Hudson's invitation, and Molly had been avoiding Sherlock's flat as much as possible. Then Molly felt guiltier because she was not keeping her promise to Sherlock, to check on the doctor.
While washing her hands after using bathroom, Molly wondered how the man knew Jim had died. The media only reported about Richard Brook's missing since the expose. Reporters swarmed around London tracking down the mysterious Richard Brook for months yet he "disappeared" completely. No newspaper or TV channel told about a second body found in the roof top of Bart's. Molly knew there had been two suicides that day for she did see the second body with her own eyes in the morgue and for Lestrade had asked her to identify the second body. When Molly recognized the body as Jim Moriarty, Lestrade shook his head and asked if she knew someone called Richard Brook. After Sherlock's funeral, Lestrade visited Molly at home, and told her that the police believed Richard Brook was indeed Jim Moriarty. The DI made her promise secrecy. Officially Jim Moriarty's body was transferred to some government agency, and she was not supposed to have identified the second body.
Who is this man? He knew about the body.
Whoever that was, this man must have had a very close relationship; he might have been informed of Jim's death lately. However, uneasiness told Molly that she'd better leave immediately. When Molly returned from the toilet, Jim's friend was waiting for her with a tray of two hot coffees. He stood up politely and got her bag for her- Molly was about to excuse herself and forgot it, totally amazed at his gesture, a text-book etiquette that no one seemed to care about nowadays. Putting her bag on a side of the bench for her, the man pushed a cup toward her.
"Here's yours. Sugar?"
"Two sugars."
It was her new habit since she found the likings of Sherlock Holmes. She used to take no sugar.
Only a drink. It'll be okay.
"Thank you for the drink. It sounds silly but I even don't know your name."
"My name is Sebastian but call me Seb."
Sipping his coffee, he looked at a loss as if he didn't know how to start. His eyes moved unstably. Molly tried a few words to break the ice.
"Well, it was long time ago that I dated Jim. Only three times. I know nothing about him."
"Molly,.. oh, can I call you Molly? I remember Jim calling you Molly. "
"Yes, of course."
Molly stirred her coffee and took a sip. Sebastian's next words were unexpected.
"You knew about his "sexuality."
Embarrassed, she stuttered – she was talking about her ex-boyfriend's sexuality with a stranger.
"Jim didn't exactly confess to me. It was…"
She stopped abruptly. A fleet of pain crossed her face: John must have felt really bad for her after she ran out of the lab; John gave Sherlock a look when they visited the lab next time; the sleuth robotically muttered out "I'm sorry."; John told her that Sherlock really believed he was saving Molly time and troubles, and failed to comprehend why he had to apologize despite John's chiding.
"Richard used an alias, Jim Moriarty, to close friends only. You must have been very special to him, Molly. Only one date and he let you know his other name."
Molly stared back in surprise. The man continued.
"Jim talked about you a lot. When I first met you at the FOX, you were breaking up with Jim because he was gay."
"Were you his partner, right?"
It was more of a statement rather than a question. Seb blinked and then forced a laugh after seconds.
"No, I wasn't in such a relationship that you are imagining. He and I were thoroughly on a work-based partnership. He was my friend... the only close friend."
Not knowing what to say, she stared at her hands around her coffee cup. The coffee warmed up her chilled body. She was about to drink another sip when Sebastian abruptly stated.
"There were two bodies at Bart's that day. One was Mr. Holmes. The other was…"
Molly raised her eyes, putting down her cup on the table without drinking.
"The news reported about one suicide. I don't read newspapers though..."
"I know. Jim had told me that you don't read news or watch TV because you see enough deaths at your work. Anyway, I went to Bart's that night. A kind of hunch… I overheard some nurses talking."
Sebastian drank more of his coffee, trying not to show too much of raw emotions.
" Jim had told me that he had some business at the hospital that morning. He didn't contact me whole day. Up to now, no phone calls or texts from him. He literally vanished that day. I'm trying one plus one equals two."
After seconds, the man whispered.
"Molly, I need to know if he is dead or alive."
His whole body was shaking with his head buried in his hands. He looked as if he were dreading the answer from her mouth.
How devastating it would be if you have to guess, not knowing the person that you care is dead.
In that sense, John was happier than Seb – at least John thought Sherlock was dead. Molly wanted to help the man, who was almost sobbing. Molly whispered.
"I only had a glance when the second body was wheeled into the morgue. I pushed the second body into the cold chamber right away because my hands were full with Sherlock's body."
She let it out without even knowing. The man's voice got lower and hesitant.
"Was it… him? Did you check on his body?"
His pain was so palpable.
"Just a glance confirmed a self-inflicted bullet wound: a gun in his mouth. Yet I couldn't identify the body officially. First, there was Sherlock Holmes' body. Then, I was told to get my hands off from the second body. I mean Jim's body. After hours, his body was moved."
"To where?"
"I don't know. Even I know, I can't say."
Sebastian remained silent while Molly sipped more of her coffee. Then Seb looked up; Molly flinched. His eyes penetrated into Molly's. He didn't tremble any more. His voice was cold, slow and steady unlike minutes ago.
"Newspapers reported Richard Brook was missing after the detective's suicide. No one was supposed to know about second body unless that person was also a part of a "plot." Well, Molly Hooper, here you are, telling me about the body of Richard Brook aka Jim Moriarty."
Molly inhaled shortly, realizing about her slip too late. Her coffee cup shook violently. Avoiding the man's stares, Molly stuttered a few unconvincing excuses.
"I … I… I was devastated at that time. My friend… Sherlock… just committed a suicide. To come to think of it, I am not sure if I saw anything right."
The man's lips crooked sideways, as if he knew she was lying. His voice didn't have the previous desperation any more. It changed as if he just finished acting his part as a "grieving friend".
"Let's move onto the other body? Sherlock Holmes?"
"What about him?"
It was so stupid of her to have coffee together with this man. She didn't expect that the topic would change into the detective in hiding.
"You signed his death certificate. You identified his body. "
"I signed the paper because I was on duty. Sherlock's family identified his body. "
Sebastian shook his head. His voice sounded incredulous.
"It sounds strange. Sherlock Holmes was no stranger to you. What kind of protocol your hospital has to put you on the body of your friend? The other off-duty staff should've done the job, not you."
Molly flinched, not sure what to say. Sebastian was right: the hospital protocol – she had forgotten about it. She was too absorbed in doing what Sherlock had asked her. Sebastian continued, enjoying the moment while taking in Molly's facial changes, her gestures, and her voice just to search for any clues.
"Are you seeing a psychiatrist? There should be one.""
"Why? I'd more than fine."
"No, you're not. It's cruel. I know a lawyer friend. Should I call him to talk about this? You can sue the hospital. Big news about how lamely national hospitals are operated."
Molly was tongue-tied for minutes. The man grinned and took out his mobile, gesturing that he was going to call his friend right now. Molly faltered, her coffee completely forgotten.
"No, no... I volunteered."
"Why?"
"I thought that was the least I could do."
"You are a woman of steely nerves: dealing with a bloody bashed body of your friend."
Molly recovered a little and answered coldly.
"With years of experience at the mortuary, you can detach yourself, tearing off your emotions from your work. Are you done? I really need to go."
"Why hurry? It's getting fun."
Molly stood up. Seb gestured apologetically and asked.
"Well, one last question, Molly, before I let you leave. Sit down, please. What is the cause of his death?"
Molly sank into her seat.
"Sherlock Holmes died of the impact from the fall: you know, a broken neck, a cracked skull, a dislocated left shoulder, massive internal bleeding from ruptured organs and a twisted right ankle."
The man rolled his eyes, finishing his coffee. He sneered while he crushed the empty cup with his hand.
"I suppose you've been identifying many bodies since Sherlock's death. Hundreds at least over the last six months? A remarkable memory or you "memorized" the "facts" as if you were taking a test."
Sebastian stood up and looked down at her. He slowly carried on.
"His funeral was a closed coffin service. There was no autopsy but the body was identified by his brother only according to your statement. His death certificate was signed by his friend who was working at the morgue. Isn't it convenient? His grave doesn't have a tombstone yet. The Holmes family must've held a belief that he is still alive. "
Molly dropped her cup, spilling its contents on the floor. Her breathing got shallower and raspy with sweats on her forehead. She almost yelled at the man.
"Who are you? Why are you asking all of these questions? Leave me alone."
Sebastian smiled and leaned closer. Molly edged away, trembling and grasping her bag.
"Good evening, Molly. It was nice to chat with you."
The man tossed his cup in the bin, and walked out. The man's last words rang in her ears despite ear-deafening Christmas carols from speakers.
"We all need an answer to the final problem, don't we?"