Hello, readers! Don't mind me, I'm just melting over here in my neck of the woods. It is seriously ridiculous! And my AC has died...so yeah. :( But anyway, I did get you a new chapter. Here's the dinner! Yay! Let's just see what happens shall we? ;)

PS- A couple notes on historical accuracy here. First of all, I'm graduating John and Mary to addressing each other by first names. It may not be completely correct, but some of the alternatives just felt strange once I wrote it and it was read my myself and my beta. I'm just more comfortable with it like this. And the second thing is that I include a "ladies powder room" in this restaurant. Some things I read and was told about this time period indicated that there weren't public toilets for women. I needed a private space for ladies in this chapter though, so I went with using that name for it. Technically I'm not claiming there's toilets, so maybe that gets me off the hook haha! I just wanted to explain that stuff in case anyone is at all questioning it.


"Good evening gentlemen," the host said with a smile as Sherlock and John entered the dining room of Claridge's. "Two for dinner?"

"Three for dinner, please," John politely corrected as Sherlock immediately began to scan the dining room.

"Very good, sir. Shall I take you to your table now, or would you like to wait for the third party?"

"Well, perhaps we should wait for-"

"John!" Mary approached behind him making him turn and grin.

"Oh good, we were just about to be seated." John reached out and gave her hand a little squeeze. "Uh, Holmes, this is Miss Mary Morstan…and this is Sherlock Holmes."

Sherlock gave the smiling blonde a little nod and half smile as he briefly shook her hand. "Pleasure to meet you, Miss Morstan. I've heard your name often enough for some weeks now. Time to add a face to the name I suppose!"

"It's quite the pleasure to meet you as well, Mr. Holmes. I am sure I hear of you more often than you hear of me," she said warmly.

"Ooh, you'd be surprised." Sherlock chuckled.

"All right, well that's enough conversation for just now," John said with a nervous laugh. "We can always continue after being seated."

"Right this way, gentlemen and madam," the host said.

"We will need to be seated at that table over there," Sherlock interjected. It was behind a couple large pillars, so they wouldn't be in very plain sight. But it also afforded an excellent view of the few tables that were by the window.

"Oh…I see," the man said with a slight frown. "Certainly, sir. That is no problem at all."

Some lovely music played and the evening lights in the room glittered. John realized this would probably have been a spectacularly romantic evening…had Sherlock and his interesting plans not been included.

The host pulled out a chair and Mary began to sit, but Sherlock spoke up again.

"Forgive me, Miss Morstan, but I'll be needing that seat."

All three looked at him in confusion.

"Holmes, you can sit anywhere. There's really no need to make a scene," John said under his breath.

"No, I really can't sit just anywhere, Watson. I need to have a clear view of that section of the room." Sherlock gestured to the windows.

"Holmes!" John hissed again.

"John, it's fine," Mary said with a smile as she moved to another chair. "I don't mind at all, Mr. Holmes. Please, take this seat."

Sherlock cleared his throat as he sat. "Very much appreciated, Miss Morstan. This will make the evening go much more smoothly," he said, giving her a smile.

The host wished them an enjoyable meal and had walked away from the table wondering what sort of strange dinner party this was.

"John tells me that you often work with the Yard. That must be rather thrilling! I do hope I didn't interfere with anything important tonight for you two. Surely you don't always keep normal business hours." Mary had to hold in a giggle as she observed the way Sherlock was surveying the room instead of looking at her.

"Indeed we do not," Sherlock said, finally turning his attention back to her. "Not to worry though, Miss Morstan. You haven't interfered with anything. In fact, we are figuratively killing two birds with one stone this evening." He grinned while raising a wine glass to his lips.

"Oh God," John said to himself and shook his head. Then he said to his friend, "Holmes, I didn't think we would make this an actual topic of discussion tonight. That is not the main focus of this dinner. Perhaps you should just observe what's needed and we can always go over it at a later time."

"Go over what at a later time?" Mary asked. She lowered her voice to an excited whisper. "Is it a case?"

Sherlock observed the way her bright blue eyes had lit up at the possibility, and the corner of his mouth turned up in a smile. Oh, Watson, it seems you are outnumbered this evening, he thought happily. For perhaps the first time, he felt ready to approve of his friend's taste in women.

"Well, Miss Morstan, yes it is a case. I chose the time and location of our dinner this evening for a very particular reason. I have reason to believe that a very dangerous criminal will be dining here this evening at a seat by the window, with an important guest. He is a man that has proven very difficult to track down, but his power in this city has become a serious problem of late. He seems to wield the authority of at least a dozen men, and perhaps has the intellect of that many as well…and we do not even know his name."

Mary raised her brows. "He sounds like quite the enemy to have. All that power and yet nobody knows him. Anonymity is terribly dangerous. It means no accountability."

"Indeed," Sherlock agreed. "He is quite the challenge."

"So, Holmes, perhaps you'd like to ask Miss Morstan about her work at the newspaper," John offered, still hoping to have a night of normal dinner conversation.

"Why would I do that?" Sherlock asked with a frown.

Mary concealed a laugh behind her napkin while John sighed in exasperation.

Sherlock took into account the people at the occupied tables by the window. There was an elderly couple, a man and his…mother who he lives with but she resents him for it, and then a man sitting alone. Hmm.

"Watson," Sherlock gestured covertly over. "That must be him, sitting alone. Perhaps his guest hasn't arrived yet. There's nobody else it could be. A shame he's facing the other way though."

"Perhaps he'll turn when his guest arrives."

"Perhaps. Not to say that I am guaranteed to recognize him, but I would like to at least commit his face to memory now. And I suppose there's also the chance I'd recognize his guest."

They were all momentarily distracted when the waiter came to give them their options and his personal recommendations. The three of them ordered, though Sherlock knew he would be unlikely to eat much of his food. Finally the waiter, who had been blocking Sherlock's view to the windows, walked away and Sherlock was able to see the table again.

The moment he looked over again, his eyes doubled in size. He looked away and swallowed hard before looking back again, hoping that what he's just seen wasn't real.

But it definitely was.

"Watson," Sherlock said, grabbing his friend's arm. "Look…"

John leaned over and soon his expression became one of horror as well. He looked at Sherlock again. "Dear Lord, that's Dr. Hooper!"

"Yes, it is," Sherlock answered gravely.

"Dr. Hooper? Who is Dr. Hooper?" Mary questioned, wishing she had a clear view now.

"She is a doctor at Bart's hospital, specializing in the subject of pathology. She works closely with Scotland Yard…and with me." Sherlock was now only carefully glancing at the table, trying not to let Molly see him. He hadn't worked everything out quite yet, but he knew that if she saw him first, this could go badly.

"A female doctor at Bart's?" Mary asked with admiration. "How marvelous. I should very much like to meet this woman!"

"I'm sure you would. Let's try to keep her alive, shall we?" Sherlock said, taking a swig of wine.

"She did say that Professor Morris was taking her to dinner tonight, didn't she? So…that's him?" John asked, still in shock.

"It would seem so. Upon a bit of further inspection I would say that looks like the man we met, from what I can see at least. So now…we just have to take some sort of action," Sherlock said with wheels almost visibly turning in his brain.

"Take action?" John looked more than a little concerned. "Holmes, I don't think there's anything you can reasonably do…right here and now. Besides, you said you just wanted to find out his identity tonight! You've done that, have you not?" The poor man still entertained hopes of a normal dinner out.

Sherlock frowned at John. "Watson, Dr. Hooper is currently dining with a dangerous murderous criminal who I was correct in assuming was not genuinely interested in her! He is using her and she has absolutely no idea. Do you really expect me to sit here and do absolutely nothing about it?"

"John, he can't do nothing!" Mary added, wearing a similar expression to Sherlock's. "Think of Dr. Hooper!"

John sighed. "Right, of course. So…what are you planning?"

"Thinking," Sherlock said with narrowed eyes.

John smiled apologetically at Mary. "Sorry about all this. I had hoped this wouldn't happen."

Mary reached over and took John's hand under the table. "I don't mind, truly. I think it's all just marvelous to be honest." She leaned a little closer and whispered. "I told you I could handle him."

John smiled back at her. "I know. Silly me for worrying."

"I've got it," Sherlock announced suddenly. He grabbed the waiter who happened to be passing by. "Is Mr. Claridge in tonight?"

"Yes sir…is there a problem?" the young man asked, looking nervous.

"Not at all. But if you could tell him that Mr. Sherlock Holmes is here and asking to see him, it would be greatly appreciated." Sherlock plastered on a genuine smile.

"Right away, sir."

"What are you going to do?" John asked as the man hurried off.

"Nothing to cause much of a scene, if that's what's worrying you."

John didn't look comforted.

A couple of minutes later, a jovial looking man approached the table. "Mr. Holmes! It's been so long! Good to see you!" He shook Sherlock and John's hand and was quickly introduced to Mary.

"Mr. Claridge, I have a rather strange favor to ask of you this evening. But I need you to trust me that you would be aiding in a very important case. Can we count on you for your cooperation and discretion?" Sherlock asked in a low tone.

Mr. Claridge clapped Sherlock on the shoulder. "My boy, anything for you. You got me out of quite a bind last year, and I am all too glad to repay the favor. In fact I am sorry you hadn't told me sooner that you would be dining tonight!"

"I knew we could count on you," Sherlock said, laying on the flattery. "Now, do you see the table over there by the window with the man and woman?"

"Ah yes, that was the table reserved for a Professor Morris I believe," Mr. Claridge said thoughtfully.

Sherlock nodded. "I need you to have the waiter do something important for me. Instruct the man to accidentally spill something on the lady in Professor Morris' company."

Mr. Claridge raised his brows in surprise and concern at this request, but Sherlock was quick to clarify.

"What he spills should be nothing that would irreparably damage either the lady or her clothing. Nothing hot, or likely to permanently stain. Just something that begs for a bit of…cleaning up." Sherlock smirked, pleased with his plan.

"I see," Mr. Claridge said, mulling this over.

"I naturally understand you would be concerned about creating a scene," Sherlock said thoughtfully. "But rest assured that the lady is not the type to do so and the gentleman would be unlikely to want undue attention drawn to himself either. My only purpose is to temporarily remove the lady from his company while she gets cleaned up. I can take it from there…what do you say?"

Mr. Claridge seemed to take this all seriously, and finally he nodded. "You can count on me, Mr. Holmes. I shall do my part, and leave the rest to you." He shook Sherlock's hand again. "Glad to be of service to a good man like you."

The owner walked off and Sherlock looked at John and Mary with a self-satisfied expression. "Sometimes my greatest weapon is the people I know."

Sherlock tried to keep a watchful eye on Molly for the next few minutes, waiting to see her get up. Unfortunately, every time he hazarded a glance, all he saw was her smiling and blushing like a school girl.

But thankfully, just as their food was arriving, Sherlock heard a small clattering sound. When he turned, the waiter was obviously apologizing profusely as Molly was trying to mop at her lap with the little napkin. He saw the waiter pick up what was left of a small bowl of fruit from the floor.

"Come on, get up," Sherlock whispered to himself as he watched out of the corner of his eye. And then…she did.

Molly walked away from the table and down a hallway that she was directed to. Sherlock turned away carefully, in case she glanced their way.

"Did she get up?" Mary asked.

"She did. I'll follow her in a minute. Just wait for me, don't do anything else," Sherlock instructed.

"I'll move to your seat so I can watch. If he gets up to go look for her, I'll come to the powder room and warn you," Mary volunteered.

Sherlock nodded. He hadn't even thought of that, but it was a good back up plan to have in place. This Mary Morstan was looking to be a better fit for John by the minute.

Sherlock took a deep breath and got up, quickly heading down the hallway and out of the view of the dining room full of guests. Once there, he walked further down till he came to the door that said, "Ladies Powder Room." He glanced around, making sure there was no one else about and then leaned closer against the door, listening to make sure that Molly was the only one inside. He heard the squeak of a tap being turned on, and only the motion of one pair of feet…all clear.

Like lightening, he opened the door, swept inside, and bolted it behind him. And naturally, as he did, Molly let out a rather loud gasp.

"Mr. Holmes! What are you doing in here?!" She looked more than a little horrified.

"Forgive me, Dr. Hooper, but I absolutely had to speak with you. It was rather urgent," he said, taking a few steps to where she stood frozen in the midst of wiping at her skirt.

Her expression hardened after the shock of his appearing had worn off. "I cannot imagine what you would need to speak with me so urgently about, Mr. Holmes." She went back to wiping at the fabric, much more aggressively now. "I'm sure you can see that I am dining with Professor Morris, and I'm not available for whatever you think you need me for at the moment!"

"I didn't say I needed you for anything, Dr. Hooper. In fact, I am also busy dining here tonight. I am here with Watson and a lady friend of his. But while I was here, I made a disturbing discovery…involving your dinner companion."

Molly huffed and shook her head. "I feel I have heard quiet enough of your opinions on Professor Morris. I think you made your feelings perfectly clear yesterday."

"If you'll hear me out, Dr. Hooper," he said more firmly. "I think you'll find this to be new and vital information. The fact is that I was not completely correct in my deductions yesterday."

"Astonishing!" she said sarcastically.

"I think I should tell you why I cared so much to be here tonight. I was informed that the man heading the current wave of crime in London would be dining here tonight at seven…at a table by the window…with an important guest," he said slowly and pointedly.

Molly's expression fell a little and she stopped what she was doing to make eye contact with him. She blinked, eyes darting around as she processed what he was saying.

"But…but there are…other tables," she countered weakly.

"Yes," Sherlock admitted. "But neither of the other occupied tables by a window are at all possibilities. I wouldn't have bothered to orchestrate your needing to leave the table or track you down in the powder room if I weren't very sure."

Molly frowned. "Orchestrate my- oh it doesn't matter." She set the cloth down on the edge of the sink and sat down heavily on the little settee nearby. She said nothing; just sat there gripping the fabric beneath her hands and staring in front of her.

"You needed to know who you're dealing with," Sherlock said calmly. "His interest is in Scotland Yard, and in me. Any information you share with him on those subjects could be very dangerous…to all of us. I would strongly advise you to discourage his further interest in you. Do whatever you have to do to make sure he leaves you alone."

Molly nodded very slightly but didn't look up and didn't say anything.

"Dr. Hooper, are you sure you understand?" he pressed.

"Mmhm," she said, nodding more vigorously. "I do, I understand."

Sherlock stared at her, wondering what to do next. Really, he'd done what he needed to do. She knew what she needed to know. And yet…

"Are you…all right?" he asked hesitantly.

"I'll be fine, thank you. I just…feel like a bit of a fool right now. I mean, you told me to stick with Toby, didn't you?" She laughed, but it was shaky. "I probably should have been smart and done just that."

It wasn't often Sherlock felt this way, but at the moment, be hated being right. It wasn't as cut and dried as she was making it sound though, and he knew it.

"He was just using you. It's not the same thing as…" Sherlock wasn't sure where he was going.

"I know," she said, jumping in. "He was just using me and I bought into it, without hesitation. I didn't think myself to be so pathetic and desperate! I believed him simply because I wanted him to be real. I wanted to believe that a gentleman could admire my life and my work…and me."

Sherlock felt like a heavy weight was pressing on his chest, trying to shove something out. "I admire you," he said quietly.

Molly's eyes snapped up to his, and suddenly he felt a little lost.

"I-I mean to say that your life and work…you are impressive. Most women don't do what you have done. They likely could, but given the world we live in it would mean sacrifice. And you've done that. That deserves a fair bit of admiration."

She smiled, but there was still some sadness present in her eyes. "Thank you, Mr. Holmes. It does mean a great deal to hear you say that, honestly. It's just…it's not the same as what I was speaking of. You see, I thought that Professor Morris was taken with more than just my professional abilities," she said shyly.

Ah, Sherlock thought, understanding her meaning. She wanted what everyone else seemed to want so badly…to be desired. He scoffed a little in his head. What did she really have to worry about anyway? In a split second, Sherlock examined her completely. Her tiny little figure, slight but strong, was clothed in a deep chocolate brown skirt which belted at the waist and a blouse that was obviously a nicer piece of clothing for her. It was simple and white, but had some lace around the collar and on the sleeves which came down just below her elbows. Her hair was swept up, but not as tightly as it often was as Bart's. It framed her face in a softer way, with some tendrils that had been strategically left out. Her brown eyes were as big and dark as ever, and her nose tipped up ever so slightly in that way that made her profile so unique hers. It was so familiar now, from all the times he'd stood there watching while she worked…

Sherlock felt his breath catch for a moment. He had taken an overall estimation of her appearance because she had just bemoaned the fact that she didn't believe herself to be desirable. It seemed the logical thing to do. Gather data and come to an informed conclusion. But he hadn't really thought about the honest answer it would produce in himself…she was beautiful. But not just in a clinical sense.

She was beautiful to him.

It was the first time that Sherlock admitted to himself that he was physically attracted to Molly Hooper. Not just that he was impressed by her intellect, or her medical knowledge, or the accomplishment of being an employee of Bart's hospital. No…he simply enjoyed the sight of her.

Naturally, this realization flustered him.

"I uh…I hardly think you should concern yourself with whether or not a dangerous criminal finds you appealing." He locked his hands behind his back and averted his gaze.

Molly sighed. "You're right of course. And I don't concern myself with that I suppose. Ultimately…" She kept her eyes down, but her words were still very much directed at him. "It isn't really his opinion that matters to me."

Sherlock glanced back at her and swallowed hard. What is she saying? He felt the need to bring this conversation to a close. He cleared his throat and dove in.

"My opinion would likely also matter very little, but in my estimation you are perfectly adequate to look at," he said quickly.

Molly chuckled at the lightweight compliment that still managed to make her smile. "Thank you, Mr. Holmes. But um, your opinion does matter." She looked up at him. "More than a little."

He couldn't look away for a moment. He wondered if perhaps he should say something; tell her off, warn her away…something. How had he really never seen this in her eyes before?

"Dr. Hooper, I uh…"

They jumped when there was a knock at the powder room door. Sherlock motioned to Molly to respond.

"Um, forgive me, I'll be just a moment," she called out.

"Mr. Holmes, it's Miss Morstan."

Sherlock rushed to the door, unlocked it, and let her in. He locked the door again once she was inside.

"I thought I should come and tell you that the man you're with just got up and is asking one of the waiters if they saw where you went."

Molly looked a bit confused. "Oh, why thank you. But um…who are you?"

"Ah yes!" Sherlock exclaimed. "Dr. Molly Hooper, this is Miss Mary Morstan, a friend of Dr. Watson's. Miss Morstan, Dr. Hooper." He gestured between them while making the rapid introductions.

"Oh, hello!" Molly's face spread in a smile immediately. "It's such a pleasure to meet you!"

"You as well," Mary said warmly, taking the handshake Molly offered. "I heard about you and I knew you were just the sort of woman I would love to meet. We absolutely must talk more soon!"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "This is hardly the time for conversation or planning our social calendars. Perhaps we should move things along?"

"Indeed, Mr. Holmes," Mary teased. "Which is why I came to tell you to stop chatting away in here!"

Sherlock sighed and went for the door, but Mary stopped him.

"Wait! Dr. Hooper, you should make your exit first. Mr. Holmes and I will wait a couple of minutes before going back to our table."

Sherlock looked a little sheepish. "Yes, she's right. Go on, and remember what I told you. End the interest! Get word to me as soon as possible if you feel that things are not going to plan."

Molly nodded. "Yes, I will. I'll make sure. Sorry again that I didn't see…" she began, but Sherlock stopped her.

"Let us not forget, Dr. Hooper…I thought he was a reporter." He quirked his eyebrow and gave her a little smile.

She grinned, appreciating the fact that he wasn't making her feel like a complete fool for all of this. "Thank you," she whispered, and gave Mary one more smile as well.

She disappeared through the door and Sherlock slowly turned to look at a smiling Mary.

"Well…she is just lovely," Mary said in a congratulatory tone.

Sherlock frowned. "Why are you saying it like that?" he asked suspiciously.

Mary smiled slyly. "Mr. Holmes, I know we are only just starting to get to know one another so I think it's only fair to warn you that there's one thing you should always remember about me." She leaned in a little closer and said in a low voice, "I'm very perceptive."

Mary stepped away and sat on the settee to wait till they could safely leave the powder room, leaving Sherlock looking a little like a child caught stealing candy. He couldn't decide whether he was in awe…or a little frightened.

A few minutes later, Sherlock left the powder room, followed by Mary another couple of minutes later. He was impressed when he walked back into the dining room and Molly didn't so much as glance in his direction. She was obviously taking this seriously. As she should, he thought grimly.

A few minutes into their meal though, Sherlock excused himself again and slipped out the front door. He went just around the corner to the side of the restaurant, looking for someone in particular who he knew would be there.

"An emergency already, Mr. Holmes?" Bill Wiggins voice broke through the shadows.

"Not exactly…not yet at least," he answered in a calm voice. "But I do need you to do something important for me."

"Anything, Mr. Holmes."

He walked Wiggins back around to the front of the building and pointed into the window. "Do you see Dr. Hooper sitting there at that table?" he asked, eyes glued to the candle-lit scene before him.

"That I do, Mr. Holmes," Wiggins confirmed.

"Excellent. What I'd like for you and the rest of your people to do is to ensure that Dr. Hooper returns safely to her flat tonight after she leaves this restaurant."

"I can do that," he said confidently.

Sherlock finally turned away from the window and faced Wiggins with a stern expression as he shoved some coins into his hand.

"Ensure that she returns safely to her flat…alone."


I just wanted to point out that the end of this chapter doesn't indicate that Sherlock is just viciously jealous and doesn't trust Molly, thinking that she might bring "Professor Morris" back to her flat because she wants to. He's saying it for her safety and to make sure that she's not followed or forced into leaving with him or something. I think that's pretty clear, but I just didn't want to leave room for it to be taken any other way. So I hope you liked this one! I enjoyed writing Mary and Sherlock meeting and Mary being an instant part of the team. It's one of my favorite things about her. :) Just a note that I probably won't be updating again till early August, since I'll be away for a bit. Thanks for the support and for being patient, and in the meantime I'd love to hear your thoughts on this latest chappy! :D Thanks for reading and thanks so much to MizJoely for the always helpful beta reading! ;)