AN: I have borrowed ideas from various places. Please bear with me!
Molly Hooper was having a great day.
She was one of the few people who loved their work. When she chose to study pathology everyone was concerned about her career options. But Molly hadn't cared one bit. Pathology was something she had been interested since her childhood. When she was in the last year of college, she had envisioned herself to be a pathologist in a respectable hospital. But never once did she dream that she would be offered a job in MI6.
Her abilities were almost always put to test, as the organization dealt with complex and dangerous beings. Yet, she found the challenge exhilarating.
She had just discovered the origin of a chemical used in a recent bomb blast, which would help the agents in tracking the terrorist group. It made her happy that she was helping to the world a better place.
Molly went to meet her friend Meena in her cubicle. They were supposed to be meeting for lunch. Unlike Molly, her friend Meena was a field agent. Similar to what the Bond movies called Bond girl. She rolled her eyes. Hollywood had a way to glamorize everything. Molly chuckled at the absurdity and pushed the glass to a personnel gym. A brown complexioned, raven haired woman was on the treadmill, doing a flat out sprint. Molly would have probably collapsed at this speed but her fit friend was hardly breaking a sweat. She was glad that she worked in the lab rather than the field.
Upon hearing the door open, Meena turned to wave at her. She switched off her treadmill and reached for the water bottle.
"Hey" she said in her usual cheery way.
"Hello! Don't tell me you forgot about lunch." Molly pointed an accusing finger at her best friend with a mock frown.
Meena laughed at her.
"Of course not. I remember." She said with a smile. "Just gimme a few minutes to hit the shower."
"Okay" Molly returned her smile and went outside to wait for her friend.
Just when she reached the lounge, she saw the security escorting someone to the elevators along with Greg as they passed the lounge window.
Everyone who worked here knew their way around. It was very rare when someone other than the employees were admitted into the building. It was rarer that Greg should be accompanying the visitor. Must be someone important, she mused if they were meeting HER.
She couldn't quite catch a glimpse of the stranger. Just a long coat and a mass of black curls.
Black curls? Her eyes widened.
She leaned against the window to take a better look but they were already inside the elevator.
Molly shook her head and tried to calm her racing heart.
"Wishful thinking" she muttered with a sigh.
/-/-/-/
Sherlock was by far, impressed by what he saw. And that meant that the place would have mind blowing to normal people.
After changing into his usual clothing, Sherlock joined the man (what was his name? Geoffrey probably) to head towards the car in front of the building. They car immediately began to pick up speed as soon as they settled in the car.
His companion pulled out a device similar to a tab and began to type something in it. If it had been anybody else they would have pondered about the situation but not Sherlock. Never make assumptions before you knowing the facts. So he just settled himself and looked upon the mazes that made up the city he called home.
He had deduced that the office would be in an isolated place, just like the Baskerville research lab. And like always, he was spot on. It was almost an hour away. They had to pass through five layers of security each more rigorous than the previous. Upon finally reaching the magnificent and imposing building, 'the man' (as he had begun to dub him) pocketed his device and gestured for Sherlock to follow him. As they got out of the car they were immediately joined by two guards (both from the army). As they made their way to the elevators, Sherlock saw someone at the lounge windows. It wasn't quite unusual. He always kept registering this kind of details. It was a woman. Something about the figure rang a dim bell.
Hmmm… something to ponder about later.
The guards left them upon reaching the elevators. After recognizing 'the man's retina, the elevator doors hummed open. There wasn't any buttons to specify the floor number to which one wished to go. Sherlock figured that only specific floors were accessible to each member, which was regulated by the retinal scan. The elevator began to make a swift ascend and within seconds they were on the top most floor. The doors hummed yet again to reveal a well furnished and modern workspace. 'The man' started walking towards the opaque door, which Sherlock guessed was where his 'client' would be. He followed him.
After yet another retinal scan, the opaque door slid to a side to let them enter. The floor was carpeted in a dark green color which contrasted quite nicely with the steel gray painted walls. The room was furnished minimally but effectively. All this Sherlock noted afterwards as his attention was primarily focused on his 'client'.
The woman who had been pacing relentlessly, stopped to look at them upon their entry. Sherlock studied her in his usual deductive manner. Irene knowing full well that she was being deduced waited for Sherlock to finish. Working with Mycroft (and reading Sherlock's file) had taught her that there was no use being offended. She went right back to business.
"Mr. Holmes" she said with a nod in his direction. "I am Irene Adler, director of MI6."
Sherlock just nodded in acknowledgment.
She gestured to them to take a seat and returned to her chair. Once they were settled, she began to talk.
"Two days ago I received a mail from an unknown source." she said. "The contents of the mail are here for your display. Immediately a mail appeared on the desk. It simply read: "Be prepared. Lives will be lost."
Since the systems are protected with the utmost security and that my mail id is known only to a few. We were concerned. All attempts to trace the computer have been futile. We waited for another mail to be delivered but nothing came up, until today.
Her face turned pale as she instructed her personal assistant to call up the latest mail.
It was the personal information about some of the MI6's secret agents placed undercover in terrorist organizations.
"They have the information of only a few." She continued. "We have already informed them to terminate their responsibility and evacuate."
"As of now we don't know if they have more information."
"What are their demands?" Sherlock asked. His interest was definitely piqued.
"That's the point. They have made no demands." She said her voice sounding defeated.
Ah! A power play. Classic! He thought.
Sherlock knew that it was considered socially 'a bit not good' to rejoice at such things. So he decided to celebrate internally.
Finally a case, possibly an eight, he thought smiling internally.
This was going to be fun.
AN:Thank you for reading. Review please! :)