"So you know the victim?"
Ali looked around the interview room nervously, wishing her dad was in there with her. She knew her interrogating officer, Jack Dimmock, but the situation didn't make her feel the least bit comfortable.
"Yes, but not really well" Ali stated, taking another sip of her water to try and alleviate her nerves. "I only officially met her last night for the first time. I knew of her before that"
"And what is the nature of your relationship to the victim?" Dimmock asked.
"She is my boyfriend's ex girlfriend"
"And tell me about meeting her" Dimmock began, leaning forward in his chair a little bit. "We are just putting together a time line of events leading up to her death"
"I was out with Artie... Arthur Grimes, and we went to the Midsummer's... That pub on Northumberland" Ali recalled. Dimmock nodded, encouraging her to continue. "We were there for about ten minutes when Artie kind of tensed up. Vanessa was at the bar. They had had a rough breakup about six months ago and I am not sure he was a hundred percent ready to see her."
"You said you met her?"
Ali nodded, remembering the time that was only yesterday, but seemed like decades ago due to the day she had had "Vanessa came to our table, I guess she believed the whole 'we'll be friends' line that all break ups have."
"And how did Arthur react to that?"
"He got really quiet. He was still chatting to her, but all of his usual life drained out of the conversation" she paused suspiciously. "Wait, he's not a suspect?"
Dimmock ignored the question. "Tell me what you know about their break up? Amicable?"
"I don't know, he doesn't talk about it... We've only been together a few weeks..." She stumbled, not knowing how to answer the question. She was starting to freak out a little bit. Dimmock's questioning made it seem like Artie was in trouble. "Is he a suspect, detective inspector?"
"We're there any other men hanging around her last night?"
"Is Arthur a suspect?" Ali demanded, frustrated that Dimmock was not answering her question.
Suddenly there was a tapping on the door. Dimmock sighed and opened the door for Sherlock Holmes to enter the interrogation room. Ali relaxed at the new presence, the friendly face. Sherlock didn't necessarily look all that friendly at that point however.
"Arthur is a suspect" Sherlock admitted plainly, with no pretence. "But at the moment Ali, so are you, and your refusal to answer questions isn't helping."
The words made her recoil in shock. She was a suspect? Ali know how the mind of police officers worked, and logically, having seen her boyfriends ex hours before she died did make her a suspect. Now was not the time to with hold information, she realised.
"It is within your best interest to answer all our questions with as much detail as you remember, and ensure that you are not letting your sentiment cloud your testimony. Now tell me, me Ali, not Dimmock, what happened last night." Sherlock said. Ali nodded, ready to cooperate with Sherlock.
"We had a chat to Vanessa, for about twenty minutes I think. She was drinking heavily. The bar tender kept bringing her drinks"
Sherlock nodded as though he had expected that information. "Was she buying them? Or we're they just being delivered?"
"Each time she would nod at the bartender. Maybe she had a tab?" Ali concentrated on the events of the evening before. She wished she had taken more notice, but honestly, she didn't think that she would be a witness in a murder investigation. "She had about three drinks while she was at our table. Looked like vodka and lemonade. Clear liquid and bubbles."
Sherlock nodded encouragingly. "And when she left the table?"
"Went back to the bar, chatted with the bartender again" Ali replied then frowned apologetically to Sherlock. "I wasn't really paying much attention to her at that point. I mean, I was on a date with Artie."
"Your date was cut short" Sherlock prompted.
"Yeah, I got a phone call from Dr Watson asking me to go to your house, sorry, the Hooper Holmes residence, to look after Henry. I left the pub to take the call" Ali told the detectives. "When I came back in, Artie was chatting to one of his uni mates. I explained the situation and left him at the pub"
"He stayed at the pub?" Sherlock confirmed.
"Walked me to the cab, but then went inside to keep drinking with Steve I guess. Steven Richards, I think his name was."
Sherlock stood and tucked his chair in. "At time of death Ali was, as she said, at my home looking after my son. An alibi. Any further questions Dimmock?"
Dimmock shook his head, Sherlock gestured for Ali to leave the room with him.
Greg wrapped his arms around his daughter as soon as she left the interrogation room. Ali clung to her father, finally letting her emotions and fear out onto his shoulde. "I am sorry I couldn't be in there with you"
"I understand dad" Ali whispered. "Dad? What's going to happen to Artie?"
Greg didn't answer, instead burying her head in the crook of his neck again. Sherlock watched the exchange briefly until his phone dinged in his pocket. He checked it and grinned. "Iam going home"
No one really paid attention to the consulting detective who navigated his way out of Scotland Yard without looking at anything but his phone, and the picture message he'd just received from Molly of Henry holding baby Angelina
0o0
"Dad!" Henry jumped off the couch and ran across the living room. Sherlock broke into a grin when he saw his son. "Mum said you probably wouldn't be home tonight."
"Did she?" Sherlock smiled, fluffing his sons hair while he took off his coat. "Well, your mum can be quite wrong sometimes..."
"Sherlock!" A voice warned from the kitchen. Molly peaked her head out, smiling as she did so. Sherlock crossed the distance to kiss her.
"Thank you for that photo" he grinned
"Thank you for coming home" Molly smiled, turning back to the kitchen "We haven't had a family dinner in a while"
Sherlock quickly washed up then the three of them made dinner. Sherlock and Henry had an in depth discussion about football while they worked, Molly having to hide her giggles every time Sherlock purposely asked a silly question. Sherlock enjoyed learning from their son almost as much as Henry enjoyed learning from his dad
They sat at the table together, Henry finally pulling Molly into the conversation about football when he remembered that she used to play. Molly had them both enthralled as she described a penalty shoot out that she was involved in when her St Bart's team had been in the playoff.
Sherlock put Henry to bed, telling Molly to go and relax. If there was one thing Sherlock loved, it was putting his son to bed. They read the next chapter of Henry's book together, then with a kiss on the cheek, Sherlock left his boy to sleep.
Sherlock reclined on the bed, listening to the sound of the shower in the ensuite bathroom. He was honestly trying not to doze. The small amount of sleep he had gotten earlier that morning had all but left his body. He was fast approaching exhaustion again, and was very glad he was home.
His eyes were closed when he heard the door to the bathroom open. He could sense Molly moving around the room, probably starting her evening routine. Usually Sherlock liked to watch as Molly moisturised her face and brushed her hair. but this evening, on the borders of his mind palace, his eyes were too heavy to open.
A small clearing of her throat suggested that Molly was standing beside the bed. Sherlock cracked an eye, and what he saw made him sit up.
"I was saving this for your birthday" Molly whispered, her voice a mix of nervous energy and masterful seduction. Sherlock looked her over, her long legs, the delicate white panties with the peach bow, the gently curve if her hip, shapely breasts in a matching bra, her hair falling delicately around her shoulders. "But I thought..."
Sherlock didn't give her time to finish the thought, grabbing her around her waist and throwing her to the bed, kneeling above her. Molly giggled and scooted up the bed to rest on the pillows.
"You approve?"
Sherlock's response was to launch himself at her, all thoughts of his previous exhaustion gone. Hands ran over her sides as he devoured her neck, Molly's laughs turning into moans and gasps.
Molly's hands unbuttoned Sherlock's shirt as he continued his explorations, hands becoming bolder as they reached their desired destinations. He task was put on hold as Sherlock gently pulled her up from the pillows and fumbled with the clasp at the back.
"Smartest man alive" Molly whispered playfully, moving his hands away and undoing the clasp herself. "Perplexed by bra straps"
Sherlock punished her with his mouth for that statement. Molly still giggled through the kisses.
But then the mood changed. Sherlock stared deep into Molly's eyes, stroking her cheek softly, and whispered "I don't know what I'd ever do without you, Molly Hooper"
A tear came to her eyes. "I am not going anywhere, Sherlock Holmes"
Their lovemaking was tender and loving, and afterwards they dozed in each others arms. Molly stroked Sherlock's back. The muscles were relaxed but strong under his skin, and he shivered slightly as she ran her nails against him.
"Sherlock" she whispered.
"Yes Molly?" He mumbled into his pillow, eyes remaining closed.
She took a deep, steadying breath and asked the question that had been on the tip of her tongue longer then she realised. "Will you marry me?"
A/N: for morbid by default, who suggested the fight wouldn't be over until there was insinuated make up sex. Lol. Hope this is ok. I am terrible at writing this sort if stuff!