It was a warm, gentle southern breeze which lazily played with a crumpled sheet of newspaper in the street and toyed with the sturdy little weeds that bravely made their home in the cracks of the pavement. Languidly the wind rose to push aside the hair of a happy little girl's fringe as she walked to school with her dad, then, inspired by the child's energy, it ascended to more ambitious heights, reaching the trees and rustling their leaves in noisy proclamation of its presence.
The wind's newfound confidence resulted in a little twig being unfairly jostled about, protesting grumpily with a light but insistent tap tap tap against a bedroom window to attract attention to its plight.
Molly opened her eyes. The twig had succeeded.
With a soft sigh the pathologist stretched, yawned, curled up into a ball and fell asleep again...For just five minutes...
Ten minutes later she got up.
Bathroom, kettle on, Toby's breakfast, pour tea, get dressed, eat toast...One by one the small things that made her morning routine were completed with the sleepy, absent-minded diligence of habit. It was probably going to be a typical day, like yesterday and tomorrow, since there was no unpredictable, handsome maniac to disrupt her quiet day. Molly glanced at her phone. No texts. She sighed and put it in her bag.
As she stepped outside she took a deep breath and smiled as she felt the warm breeze welcome her under the sunlight. Going to work in late spring, with the sun already up, filled her with optimism. She smiled as she walked, tying her hair up in a ponytail to combat the cheeky wind's playful mood.
"Oh! Excuse me!" She nodded apologetically as she bumped into a man with a green hoodie. The man grunted and moved on.
Oh well, it can't be a great day for everybody.
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"CRASH!"
"Sherlock!"
"Good morning, John. You're up early."
"Dear God, Sherlock! What was that?"
"Put your gun away, John. You're not fully awake yet; you might hurt yourself."
John stood, panting, in light blue pyjama shorts, gun in one hand while the other kept the door to Sherlock's room open.
Sherlock, meanwhile, was visible only from the shoulders up as he was sitting peacefully in the middle of the crumpled, jagged remains of what once was a perfectly adequate wooden bed.
"What happened?" John asked again, a slight edge in his voice as alarm subsided.
"An experiment."
"Sherlock...What."
The consulting detective, like a worker from the mines, emerged from the gaping hole that was his bed, dusting off bits of wood from his dark trousers.
"I was trying to see the amount of force necessary to break the bed."
John rubbed his face wearily with his free hand. "Dare I ask why?"
"Due to some claims of dubious accuracy and questionable portrayals in films and literature, I felt it necessary to determine..."
"IT'S FOUR A.M, SHERLOCK!" John cried as he saw the clock.
"So it is. As I was saying, considering the anatomy and force of two healthy..."
"Is everything all right? Sherlock? John?" Mrs. Hudson's voice interrupted them as she knocked loudly. "Are you boys all right?"
"Yes, we're fine Mrs. Hudson." The doctor cried back reassuringly. "Sorry to wake you up, the bed broke..." He shot a deadly glare at his roommate.
"Oh...I see. Well," her voice brightened warmly. "carry on then, don't mind me. I was young too, once. You boys have fun!" She added cheerfully.
John opened his mouth to clarify that it wasn't what she was thinking...Then sighed. It was too early to even bother.
And he had waltzed right into that one.
"I'm going back to sleep, Sherlock. If I hear another crash like that, I WILL use my gun on you."
"Unlikely." Sherlock shrugged. "I only had one bed."
.
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Molly walked to work from her home in Ash tree road. Red brick buildings that overlooked Crupsall park responded to the greenery with their own displays of flowers and shrubs. Overall it was a pleasant stroll. Just before the Tudor-style house was a little gate she used to step into the park, crossing it to go to work. People were already enjoying the sun, some by lying on the grass, others by playing or reading while some inexplicably preferred to just look at their phone in the shade of a tree like the man in green. Maybe he too was hoping for a text from someone...
The pathologist looked at her watch and hurried off.
A few hours later, she was bent over a corpse. Some drunk old man had fallen into the river, but it could be he fell after a stroke and was already dead when...
"Molly dear? Are you free?"
"Yes, Doctor Hoffe!" Molly smiled. As she stood straight again, her hands on her hips as she bent back, stretching her aching muscles. "I didn't know you were back! What can I do for you?"
Doctor Hoffe, Molly's boss, must have been a stunning beauty in her youth. Dr Paten, her deceased ex-husband, would say she still was (beautiful and young) although she was in her early sixties. She remained a handsome lady, although the past few months of grief had left her with a slightly wearier, tired look than usual as dark circles under her eyes defied makeup and her sunken cheeks hinted at sudden weight loss she couldn't hide with another dark tailleur. Ever an elegant woman, however, she mourned with quiet grace and always smiled in public. She had been taking short trips to London, sorting George Paten's home.
Anyone who knew George Paten would understand how herculean a task that was.
"I need to talk to you." She glided quietly to a chair and with a wave of her hand invited the pathologist to join her.
"Molly, I really appreciate your help in the hospital. After George..." She blinked at that last word. For a brief moment they both remembered the way Molly's Mentor was killed in Paris during a case. "After he...died, you really became invaluable." Doctor Hoffe reached across and gave Molly's hand a gentle squeeze. Then she cleared her throat, composing herself once more.
"Thank you, Doctor Hoffe." Molly nodded in response. She had told her boss she wanted to move back to London, but she had yet to find new work. Moving back without a position was out of the question...Sherlock had talked about getting rid of Judy, her replacement, but Molly calmed him down. She would never had forgiven herself if Judy had lost her job. She would find something, eventually, London was big enough...
"I wanted to talk to you because I've finally found George's will."
"Oh!" Molly started in surprise. "That's great!"
"He'd left it in one of his old coats, of all things. He must have forgotten it there...Silly man." Dr Hoffe shook her head fondly. "I only noticed because I was emptying pockets to donate the clothes to a charity shop! It's nothing unexpected, of course: just a letter with some general indications of where he would like some personal items to go and some sentimental words...You know George. Anyway, " She leaned in with a soft smile. "He mentions you in his will." Her eyes glistened with the ace of shared loss. "He cared about you very much."
Molly nodded quietly. "Thank you. Can I...Can I see what he wrote?"
Dr Hoffe pulled out a photocopy from her purse. "I'm sorry he didn't actually have a message for you." She started apologetically. "But here it is." She read aloud. "To my dear pupil and friend, Doctor Molly Hooper, all the books in my possession. May she find therein knowledge and wisdom to guide her when I am gone."
Molly fought back the tears she could feel welling up inside of her. Dr Paten had a huge collection of books in his study, some long out of print and treasures in themselves.
"Barts still has his books in his office." Dr Hoffe spoke quietly. "They've left it unoccupied for now and tell me you can go and collect them when you return to London next week."
Shortly later Doctor Amelie Hoffe walked out of the room, leaving behind a smiling, softly weeping pathologist.
The sun was too bright.
Way too bright.
Midday rays harshly cut into the living room, reflecting on the polished parquet floor and flooding the space with light.
The only area that didn't rudely harpoon the eyes was the carpet, the one place he didn't want to look.
Lestrade wearily rubbed his forehead.
He really should not have had another drink...
"Here is the suicide note, inspector."
With a curt nod he reached for the carefully folded piece of paper with his gloved hand and began to read.
He hated suicide notes.
Seeing them.
Reading them.
Giving them to the families...
"Uncle Fred?" A woman's distressed voice brought his train of thought crashing to a halt. "What happened here? Uncle Fred!" A lady with beautiful red hair stepped into the house, ignoring the tape.
Lestrade stepped forward to stand in her way, shielding the body from her view. "I'm sorry, Ma'am, you can't come in here."
"Where is he? What happened here? Who are you? Is he all right?" She faced him squarely, with grim determination.
"Who are you?" Lestrade asked warily.
"My name is Doctor Susan Spivey. Professor Frederick Goodfellow is a friend of the family, he's like an uncle to me. We were supposed to have brunch together. Is he all right?"
In her warm, defiant eyes, the inspector saw a glimmer of fear and concern, like the dark blue of the deep sea beneath bright ripples and waves of bravado.
"I'm sorry, doctor Spivey..." Her eyes widened.
"What..." She blinked, then started looking over his shoulder. Lestrade instinctively raised his arms akimbo, but she pushed him away and ran to the couch where the old man lay at its feet, pale as chalk. She froze.
"I...I'm sorry." The doctor stammered, a trembling hand rising to a red lock that fell over her lowered eyes "I'm standing at a crime scene. I won't touch anything. I'll move back very slowly...I...I don't want to mess with any evidence. Who killed him?" She suddenly looked back up at Lestrade.
He hated this.
So, so much.
"It's all right, Doctor Spivey. Please, come here...have a seat." He shepherded her outside to sit on a bench on the porch, throwing a glance at one of his men so he'd get a blanket for her. "I'm sorry but we found a note. A suicide note. Professor Goodfellow ..."
"Was murdered." She interrupted him resolutely.
"Susan...May I call you Susan? Susan, I understand it is very hard to accept when a loved one takes their own life..."
"I'm sure it is, but he didn't." Susan stood, with a dismissive wave refusing the proffered blanket. "My uncle Fred was murdered. I know he was. I have proof! Look..." She hastily tried opening her purse. "Look, he sent me a text message last night. It was only a name and I didn't understand but when I tried calling the phone was off. I was going to ask him about it but..."
Lestrade's phone began to ring.
"Please excuse me." He nodded at the stubborn redhead, confident that Stuart, his man who still held the blanket, would keep an eye on her.
"Inspector Lestrade."
"Lestrade, you've got to help me."
"John, I've already told you, I have no interesting cases for him. I'll let you know when something pops up..."
"He's driving me mad! Do you know he crashed his own bed at 4 a.m.? Come on, Lestrade, it doesn't have to be a good case, just something to get him distracted or a little bit...Anything..."
"I get where you're coming from, mate, but Scotland Yard isn't a babysitting centre for temperamental consultants! Sherlock is just going to have to..."
"Sherlock? Sherlock Holmes?" Susan's voice perked up behind him.
A moment later her hands were on his shoulder and she was shouting over him to the phone. "Tell Sherlock Holmes there is a murder case, disguised as a suicide! Tell him to hurry or they'll much it up even more! Hurry!" She started yelling the address before Stuart could pull her away.
"John, disregard that lady's interruption. As I was saying..."
"It's ok, we're on our way."
Lestrade sighed.
"Fine."
He turned to look at the redhead, who met his gaze with grim triumph.
"You know you're probably wasting everyone's time."
"I know uncle Fred. You'll thank me later."
"Well, Susan." Lestrade sat down beside her. "We'll just have to wait and see."
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A/N I'm back!
Special thanks to: Thegirlwhoneverforgot, likingthistoomuch, mrspencil, yashi14, Wink N Nodd, gliblet, ainamidake, Gheart, SaraBahama, Bromeo and Christie for the reviews and support. Your kind words really helped motivate me to get back to writing. Thanks again for the reviews!
I'll try an update sooner next time :)
