Chapter 10: Jamba
"Molly, I can't just get Sherlock to come investigate a strange death with you. He's not even in England at the moment."
"Mycroft, I'm telling you, I feel really weird about this – a bad feeling."
"I will send some real detectives down to investigate."
"Will you at least tell Sherlock please?"
"I will," he said, silently adding "when he resurrects himself". Mycroft wasn't going to be the cause of his whole plan failing by distracting him with trifles.
There was nothing more for Molly to do in Ilchester so she returned to London.
An instant message chat had been arranged with Martin for the evening. Molly signed into gchat at the arranged time.
Martin:
Hey, Molly, how are you?
Molly:
Fine. Where are you?
Martin:
Jamba
Molly:
Google says that's in Angola.
Martin:
Google is correct.
Molly:
When are you back?
Martin:
Late tomorrow. Why?
Molly:
I had a crappy day at work. I was called down to Somerset to look at a body which had been found in a cheese factory.
Martin:
Weird
Molly:
That's not the worst bit. She looked just like me but with darker skin!
Martin:
What?
Sherlock took out his mobile phone and sent Mycroft a text.
When were you going to tell me about Molly's double?
Mycroft sighed dramatically as he read the text from his brother. It appeared that he was continuing his ill-advised "relationship" with Dr Hooper after all.
Molly:
I know. It was pretty tough to see. I wish my friend Sherlock was still around. He would have swept into the place, deduced her name from her fingernails, and had the whole thing solved in time for tea. And he would have done it while looking impossibly gorgeous.
Martin:
….
Molly:
Sorry, that's terribly impolite of me – I shouldn't be daydreaming about the past like that. Certainly not in conversation with my current boyfriend.
Martin:
That's alright. Hang on, am I your boyfriend now?
Molly:
Yes, I mean, only if you want to be.
Martin:
I do…
Mycroft's message back to Sherlock was not helpful:
You have more important things on your plate right now.
Sherlock replied quickly:
It might be connected. Email me the details. I'm going to call Molly.
Martin:
I'll come see you when I get home tomorrow, alright?
Molly:
I'd love that. Do you want to call into me at work?
Martin:
No, it'll be evening by the time I'm back, so I'll come over to your house, if that's ok. My place is full of students.
Molly:
Ok. Sleep tight.
Sherlock idly paced the living room of the safe house in Jamba. He come there to find an arms dealer called Bulgakov who Moriarty had used for weapons training but the trail had gone cold.
Mycroft may well have disapproved of Sherlock's plan but he was still efficient. 20 minutes after their text conversation, Sherlock was looking at the autopsy report of Matilde Serafim, a native of the city of Porto in northern Portugal. She did look disturbingly like Molly. There was no way this was a coincidence. Someone was trying to send her a message, and therefore, someone knew he was alive.
He checked the time. Too soon after his text chat. Really it would be better to wait until tomorrow to call. He was only an hour ahead of London. Sod it. Sherlock reached for his untraceable satphone. The phone he used as Martin was safely back in Fitton.
Molly had just settled down on the couch with a glass of wine when her landline rang. It was an old style handset which didn't display the caller's number.
"Hello."
An instantly recognisable deep voice said a single word: "Molly."
She gasped audibly. She would know his voice anywhere but had the presence of mind not to say his name.
"He told you then."
"Yes. Are you alright?"
"I am – bit shaken. I thought it might be relevant. He disagreed but I thought it was worth telling you anyway. Where are you?"
"Best not to say. I've seen the reports. They've traced her name – I've arranged for you to be emailed the details. I'll do what I can – I'm sure it's connected to my work."
"Ok. Right. How are you?"
"Fine…no need to make small talk."
Molly sensed he was about to hang up and suddenly found she couldn't let him go just yet, so she said the first thing that came to mind.
"I've got a boyfriend. His name's Martin. You wouldn't like him. In fact, I shouldn't be telling you this: you'll probably look him up and then ruin him for me by telling me he's got a secret identity or that he plucks his eyebrows."
Sherlock raised one of his own in response to her comments. It was quite possibly the most surreal conversation he'd ever participated in. He took a brief moment to revel in the bizarreness of being told about his alter-ego's relationship with a woman who was previously in love with him…
"I'm glad, Molly, you deserve some happiness."
Molly was floored by the remark and tears sprang fully formed in her eyes.
"Thank you, Sh…that's very kind of you to say."
"I have to go…my brother will be in touch."
He hung up.
Molly tossed the phone down on the couch beside her. Toby gave an angry yowl as it hit his front paw but his human's mind was elsewhere as she thought about her former love, how relieved she was to hear from him, how his voice made her feel and decided that it wouldn't be cheating to indulge in one tiny daydream…