Ooh, another shorty, but it came to a natural break, again! :)

Chapter Nine

Sherlock rarely used public transport, finding the babble and bustle of buses and tubes too much of a distraction from his internal dialogue, but, when he was with the boys, he loved to ride the bus. William and Freddie, each in their own way, made the morning ride to school into an adventure – William pointing out features of historical interest, such as buildings and land marks, and Freddie remarking on the more mundane but equally interesting sights, such as the lady with multiple body piercings or the man with the tattooed eyeballs and brightly coloured hair.

But having delivered his sons to their respective class rooms, he hailed a cab to continue his journey to Baker Street. On arrival, he riffled through the morning mail – a handful of circulars and a couple of bills for Mrs Hudson but nothing for him – then made his way upstairs to 221B, where he booted up his laptop and left it to its own devices while he went into the kitchen to put the kettle on. Mrs H had washed up his mugs and caffetiere from the day before and restocked his fridge with milk but left everything else in the kitchen well alone. He smiled in appreciation of that venerable lady. She really was the perfect housekeeper, though she still rejected that title vehemently.

Carrying his morning tea – milk, no sugar – into the sitting room, he sat in his chrome and leather chair, placed the mug on the octagonal side table at his elbow and pulled his laptop onto his knee in order to flick through his emails. There were quite a few but none of them at all promising. Lost dogs and missing persons were not really his thing, unless there was something unusual about the circumstances, and that was not the case today. So, having dismissed all the enquiries for his services, he turned his attention to the task of finding out what had rattled Molly so much that she had blown her cool the night before.

Getting into the admin site at St Bart's was relatively simple. Sherlock deduced the password of the Senior Administrator in a matter of minutes. People really should know by now not to use birthdays or family names as passwords, he mused. These details were far too readily available on the internet, nowadays. Mrs Margaret Edwards' Facebook page provided the clues to her passwords – her mother's maiden name. Sherlock tapped it into the relevant box and sat back, with a grunt of satisfaction, to read through all Mrs Edwards' emails and memos.

ooOoo

Molly was waiting for the HoD, outside his office, when he arrived at work, looking harassed.

'Ah, Dr Hooper, yes, I read your interim report. Yes, excellent work! Well done. Now…'

'Dr Winterbotham has been suspended,' Molly interrupted. 'Did you know?'

'Er, yes, I did!' he replied, looking quite pleased with himself. 'Yes, we had a meeting last night, after I circulated your report to the relevant parties, and it was decided to suspend the individual most involved with the patients whose deaths were suspicious and the pathologist who performed the post mortems which, as you know, was Dr Winterbotham.' The HoD gave a self-congratulatory smile, as though the matter was all sorted out and he was the chief sorter.

'Well, yes,' Molly agreed, 'Amanda performed the PM's but let's not forget that she was on her Probationary period for the first three months of the time frame I was asked to review, so her reports would have been checked and signed off by her mentor – who obviously did not pick up on the anomalies either.'

Molly fixed her HoD with a challenging look.

'And her mentor was…' she began.

'Yes, yes, alright, Dr Hooper, I take your point and all that will be taken into account during the enquiry but, for now, Dr Winterbotham is suspended on full pay - and the nurse who was the patients' primary caregiver is also, so the situation is under control.'

'But sir, if the nurse is who I think it is, she was under probation, too, so her mentor should be…'

'Yes, Dr Hooper! We know that! Now, if you wouldn't mind, I have a meeting in less than half an hour and I need to prepare!' The man was clearly disconcerted by Molly's comments.

'Very well, doctor,' Molly conceded. 'I'm quite busy, too. I need to go back another three months, to when Amanda first took up her post, and review those cases too. And maybe extend the search to other departments - the Children's Wards, for example…'

'Dr Hooper, thank you for your thoroughness and determination but that will not be necessary,' the HoD insisted. 'In fact, you don't need to be involved in this matter any further. Please go back to your normal duties. The network is back up to speed and I'm sure there is quite a back log of requests for blood tests and other procedures that will need to be processed with some urgency.' He spoke curtly, all the while shepherding Molly out of his office then closing the door, firmly.

Molly stood in the corridor, utterly amazed at the very nerve of the man, to speak to her in such a dismissive manner! But then, no wonder he was so defensive for it was he who had been Amanda's mentor during her Probation. There was clearly some sort of cover-up going on here and it rather looked as though Amanda and the nurse – most likely Nurse McCarthy – were being scapegoated.

'Well, not on my watch!' Molly huffed and stomped off back to her lab.

ooOoo

Sherlock was deeply absorbed in reading the Senior Administrator's emails – he'd gone back about six weeks at this point – when his mobile phone pinged a text alert. He reached out, distractedly, and picked up the phone, turning it over in his hand to see who was texting. When he saw it was Molly, he gave the text his full attention, read it through and then dialled Molly's mobile number.

'What is it?' he asked, rather alarmed at the 'Call me. NOW' message.

'Sherlock, I know I said I wasn't allowed to tell you what was going on at work…' Molly began – and Sherlock breathed out, hugely relieved that the urgency of the matter did not relate to any of his immediate family.

'…but I need to talk to somebody and you are the only person I can trust,' Molly blurted out. 'There's something going on at Bart's and I think it goes far deeper than just one person or even one department…' She knew she was babbling but didn't seem able to stop.

'Molly! Molly, slow down!' Sherlock soothed. 'You're right. There is and it does,' he added.

Molly did not reply immediately, and Sherlock could envisage her expression as she processed the implications of what he had just said.

'Sorry,' he said, breaking the silence. 'I had to find out what had upset you so much. And, as I said, you are right. It goes very deep.'

Molly found her voice at last.

'What have you uncovered?' she asked.

'Can you get away to meet me?' he said.

'Not 'til lunchtime,' she answered.

'Fine. Meet me in the Java coffee shop in Paternoster Square, at 12.30. I'll treat my wife to lunch!'

They both rang off, with Molly returning, somewhat reluctantly, to the bread and butter work of the Pathology Department and Sherlock beginning the task of creating a file of all the relevant information he had discovered so far from Mrs Edward's email account and adding to that some rather interesting material filched from the hospital's central database, which he accessed with similar ease.

ooOoo

Just a reminder that this really is all fiction - although it is sort of based on something that occurred at a hospital in Mid-Staffordshire in the early Noughties. So, I'm employing a degree of poetic licence here. I hope no one minds...