CHAPTER 3: THE OTHER WOMAN
"Molly! Thank God you came!" Stewart greeted her with a brief hug before pulling her towards the autopsy room where the known body lay. He brushed off her feeling of unsettledness and mentally adjusted herself to her work and already began to focus. There was a certain mindset that she could easily move herself into, one of numbness and a calm clarity that allowed her to handle dead bodies and allow them to speak to her through her findings.
Mycroft watched as Molly assured Stewart that he was not needed for his autopsy. The gentlemen nodded and stood aside as he watched Molly walk closer to the body, walking around it, until the white cloth was removed from the body. Molly was so enraptured by the body, that everyone's presence began to disappear from her as she started to focus intently on her subject.
"Your coat, Molly?" His voice pierced the silence of the room as he stood behind her.
She appeared surprised by his proximity behind her, as she had already been lost in thought on preparing the autopsy. A quick smile and a brief nod allowed Mycroft to place his hands on her shoulder and assist her in removing her heavy knee-length coat. He watched as she stepped off the coat, and revealed a tight fitting black dress which she had apparently worn to a party. 'Sherlock's Christmas party, no doubt,' he thought surprisingly.
He expected her to blush in embarrassment at how out of place her attire made her appear before them, but instead she seemed not to take heed or care of it at all. She was focused. There Molly stood in a black fitted dress, high heels, and her hair in her messy ponytail overlooking the body of a dead woman with such confidence and strong concentration. He never saw such a sight before.
His green eyes examined her from top to bottom, finding a curiosity spark within him about this woman whom his brother trusted so strongly. At first glance, she did not look at all like a competent forensic pathologist, but simply a quiet and mousy lab aid destined to do the workings of a well-educated and tenured superior.
This Molly in front of him showed no signs of lacking competence in her job; he saw that in a way she seemed so engrossed in her tasks that if one was not as perceptive as he, they wouldn't know that she appeared to actually relish in the task at hand and enjoy it. Although she had yet to touch the naked body of The Woman before her, he could tell through her intent, calculating gaze that she was already making a deduction herself about the body.
Interesting, he thought, as he watch her shift in her heels as she slowly walk around the body, peering closer to observe certain clues and signs that perhaps was not so blatantly visible or obvious to the untrained eye. She peered closer to the bloodied bashed-in face of the body, not even cringing at the sight, her face mere inches away from what would have been the eyes and nose of the dominatrix.
A simple "Hmm" of thought came from her lips as she straightened herself again and began to walk around the body again to peer at the bruises on the body's hands.
A cough broke the silence, and both Molly and Mycroft gave their attention to Stewart, who stood uncomfortably on the corner. He seemed desperate to leave and appeared to very much want to return home to his family.
Stewart looked between both of them and spoke, "I'm guessing you won't be needing me anymore?" He seemed to ask either of them.
Molly looked at Mycroft questioningly, uncertain of the answer.
"Your service won't be needed, Mr. McCarthy. You may leave."
Stewart seemed pleased, and looked at Molly and back at Mycroft again. "Are you sure, Mr. Holmes?" It was evident, Stewart was simply trying to sound courteous.
"I will only need Dr. Hooper's assistance."
Molly raised her left hand and nervously brushed strands of hair behind her ear, as she watched Stewart bid goodbye left the room. Her action gathered Mycroft's attention—she was back to the present, her train of thought and focus on the cadaver broken, and she appeared a little unsettled again. He noted her nervousness. He was certain she realized his presence again and the magnitude of her current predicament. She was now left alone with Mycroft.
He watched as she moved away from the cadaver and headed towards a metal table with supplies for preparation. She doesn't say a word to him, but simply busied herself gathering her needed equipment for the autopsy. He watched her carefully. He could tell that she was certainly determined not to appear bothered by his presence. That garnered much respect from him—a woman who wanted to show with all her might that Ice Man had no impact on her. It was futile, he already witnessed her unease and panic state when he initially picked her up.
He wonders how long she would remain quiet, and better yet when would she realize that she was still dressed in her form fitted black dress and black heels. Mycroft decided, he wanted to get a rise from her, to get her attention...anything aside from the pregnant awkward silence that filled the room.
"Perhaps I can gather you a lab coat?" He asks her as he walks towards her and stands on the opposite side of the metal table of supplies she's prepared.
Molly looked up from her task, an eyebrow raised in question, just before his words seemed to hit her. Realization dawned on her that she was still in her party clothes. She was so enraptured with the task and keeping her mind off of Mycroft's presence that she had completely forgotten to change.
A blush crept to her cheeks as she met his steady gaze.
"I um...I didn't have much time to change..." She looked down at her form fitted dress and shoes. She didn't realize that she had been walking in heels—her feet had grown so numb that walking in them seemed so easy and second nature at this point. In addition, her mind had been raging with thoughts on the dead body before her and the reasoning for the importance of such secretive night time autopsy. The idea of changing or searching for comfortable clothes or shoes had not dawned on her.
"Perhaps I can get my assistance to fetch you a more...comfortable...attire, Molly?" His eyes fluttered quickly at her—making her feel more self-conscious. She saw the edges of his lips curve up slightly, as she straightened the front of her dress.
'Is he making fun of me?' Molly thought, 'Is this amusing to him?' She could not tell, but was certain to show him that she could take care of herself and did not need any additional accommodation. Molly was a professional, and no dress or heel can make her not do her job properly.
"I'm all right, thank you." She gathered herself to tell him directly, "If you excuse me, I am sure I have a change of clothes and shoes somewhere."
"By all means." He nods his head in acknowledgement as she hurriedly brushed passed him.
"I'll be right back," she said. He watched her retreat to back room.
When she returned the only apparent difference was the shoes she wore and the white lab coat that she put on which covered her short black dress. On her feet were orange Tom slip-on sneakers, a ridiculous clash to her outfit if it was not hidden beneath a lab coat. Mycroft's eyebrow is raised in amusement. She was truly a fascinating woman—stubborn, he was certain of, yet determined to show how little she needed from him.