"Molly. I need all the bodies of the recent serial killings, now." Eliza had noticed by this point that Sherlock had a way of striding into a room. It was like the very walls paid attention to him. Maybe it was because he paid attention to the walls. The woman in the morgue reacted to him just like everyone else but to the extreme. Her entire being oriented on him almost before he walked through the door.
She nodded at his instructions and scurried away to the back room full of bodies.
"What is her deal?" Eliza asked out loud.
"She obviously likes Sherlock," John replied, a hint of disdain directed towards Eliza in his voice.
"Obviously. I just don't know how anyone could, from what I have seen."
John turned on her, his face full of anger. "He does have feelings you know."
"Oh?" She followed the intensely focused Sherlock to the back room to look at the bodies.
John took ten deep breaths, like he did when Sherlock was being insufferable, before following.
"This is the first one. The DNA test identified him as Brent Austin, an accountant from Manchester," Molly Hooper hesitantly said, pulling the blue sheet off the body for Sherlock's inspection. "Would you- Would-" she stuttered. She took a deep breath then spat out, "Would you like to go for coffee sometime?"
"I already had coffee. Get the other bodies." He waved her away. Her face fell and she dragged herself to do as he ordered. Eliza turned back to John and made a 'that definitely proves my point' face. He just glared and came to examine the body as well.
"Ms. Alden. Who is this?" Sherlock leaned away from the body so she could look and scrutinized her face as she did so.
"Ex-Special Ops again."
"And these?"
Molly uncovered two more.
"Same."
"How?" Sherlock stood up, getting invasively close. She guessed that personal space norms were unknown to him when he was actually interested in something.
"Look at the parts of the body you can see. Muscle is toned. There is a patch on all the shoulders that has been cut out, normally where special forces men get a tattoo of their regiment. There are also pretty big scars for a normal person that are not burned. If I were the killer, I would have burned out major scars to prevent identification by anything but DNA which can be tampered with. Since there are big scars still there, that tells me that the burned out places were bigger scars." She pointed to each of the spots of the body she was talking about.
"Ones like this." Sherlock grazed a long, faint scar that came from behind her ear to her collarbone with his finger.
Molly's hurt gasp came out before she could stop it. He was touching someone. Touching a woman. And it wasn't her.
"Do not touch me ever again." Eliza's intensely dark blue eyes made an electrifying connection with his light blue ones. She was clearly not joking.
John cleared his throat. No reaction. He decided to break the silence. "As ironic as it would be to die in a morgue, let's not."
Eliza turned back to the bodies. "Someone has clearly messed with the DNA results."
"Clearly," Sherlock said dryly. "Molly, find out who did the tests. I will conduct my own now." He took hair samples from each body and carefully stored them in his coat. He swept out of the room, John on his heels.
Eliza waited until they left then addressed the emotionally unstable woman left in the room. "Molly, was it?"
"Yes," she mumbled. Molly recovered the bodies and put them in their respective lockers.
"Why are you so stuck on him?" Eliza helped her go about her chores. "He is absolutely awful to you."
Molly smiled weakly. "What are you talking about?"
The other woman just looked at her.
"I don't know. He is just... him."
"Ms. Alden." Sherlock popped his head back in the door. "Your job is to clean my house, not this place." He jerked his head in the direction of the exit. "Let's go."
She waved goodbye to Molly and headed after the detective.
John finished writing down some information on his computer screen. "That's the last one. She was right. They are all former SAS. Sherlock..."
"No."
John sighed. "I think you have to."
"No."
"I'm back," Eliza announced, walking through the door with an huge armful of shopping bags. The men looked up at her with complete surprise. "You... you didn't notice I left, did you."
"Not at all," John replied.
"Didn't matter. We had more important things to do." Sherlock stood up from his place at his microscope at the table and stretched his long limbs. "Stolen credit card?"
She nodded as she shifted the bags.
"Where are you going to put all that?" John asked, eyeing the bags. "We only have two rooms and they are taken."
"In Sherlock's room."
"WHAT?" Sherlock ran to his room and locked the door. "You aren't coming in. Go put it in John's room."
She walked calmly to the door and pulled a hair pin out of her hair to pick the lock. Eliza had it open in less than two seconds. Sherlock tried to shove her out but she grabbed his hand and slammed him down on the floor by his shoulder. He kicked her in the stomach, catapulting her over top of him into the side of the bed. She snarled and picked herself up again to attack.
"STOP IT!"
Both Eliza and Sherlock froze with fists in midair.
John stared at the pair of them incredulously. "What on earth do you think you are doing? Sherlock, that is my patient and you will not hurt her. Ms. Alden, leave my flatmate alone. It's just clothes. There is no need to kill people about it. Resolve your problems or I will resolve them for you." He let out an exasperated sigh. "Honestly, you two are acting like a pair of children!"
Eliza took a deep calming breath, channeling out all the anger and pain she was feeling. "I am sorry, Mr. Holmes. I just need somewhere to put my things while I am sitting here. If you can suggest a better place, let me know." She grabbed the bags and walked out of the room, stashing them in a corner of the living room before starting on the dishes.
John and Sherlock followed her. "Sherlock, you have to talk to him," John was insisting. "You know you do."
Sherlock was not hearing a word he was saying. He was instead deep in thought. "Eliza. Do you recognize these names?" He nicked John's laptop off the desk and pulled up the DNA test results.
She dried her hands on a dish towel and came over to look. Her eyes flicked through the names quickly. To John, it almost looked as if a switch had been flicked and she was in a sort of survival mode. "Call your brother. I need to go. Thanks for a place to crash for the night." Eliza quickly grabbed her shopping bags and pulled out a sturdy backpack.
"Who are they?" Sherlock insisted, following her with the laptop still in hand.
"This goes deeper than you thought. This is a matter for Mycroft, not you."
John inwardly groaned. That was possibly the worst thing to say. Now Sherlock would just pursue the matter more and drag them both into a whole lot of trouble they didn't need.
In a matter of minutes, every trace of her existence was erased from the flat. The doorway was blocked however by the persistent Sherlock.
"They were part of a special SAS unit that specialized in the removal of national threats. You should be able to find the next victims from a list of those men and women. Your brother will have it." She bowed her head sadly. "These were honorable men. See that they get justice." Eliza left 221 B Baker Street without another word or a backward glance.
John sat in stunned silence. He had a sneaking suspicion that the woman had known those men as more than acquaintances.
Sherlock wasted no time getting on the phone. "Brother, dear. How are you?"
"Sherlock! You can't just let her leave! She is an internationally wanted criminal!" John hissed, gesturing at the door.
"I didn't." He waved him away. "Mycroft. I need a list."
