Chapter 35
"No. I don't have it, John. I only hired it out for the occasion. We must attend that masquerade, so it is imperative we find the link between the two companies."
He waved his hand dismissively,"Don't bother about me, I can just steal one of Mycroft's custom tailored three piece formal dinner wear and have it altered to fit me properly. He won't notice anyway if I take one since his face is always buried in mounds of tea and sweets," he started for the main door with the two others by his side, "Shall we? Molly can analyse this piece of the note at the lab, and your Yard men can run the computer work."
Nothing interesting happened in the ride back to Bart's, that is if one didn't count Lestrade and John belting out their favourite songs on the radio every time the deejay played something they know, which was practically every song.
Sherlock, to the surprise of his friends, actually hummed along and sang a few songs- but without the same vigour as the two goons in the front seats.
After receiving a few strange looks from passerby who questioned what on earth could be happening inside the car that made three grown men bound up and down in their seats with goofy smiles and a loud ruckus that shook the entire car.
As they rounded the corner to St. Bart's car park, the three children morphed into serious and well behaved gentleman who were in the right mind to turn the music down to a respectable level.
"Alright boys, here you are. Let me know of any finding, I'll have my mobile on," Lestrade said as the two others fiddled with the safety belt claps trying to free themselves.
"Certainly. Same goes for you. Remember: Any and all possible connections make sure you record them." Sherlock retuned and accepted John's offer to crawl out of the back seat.
"Understood. See you in a bit. Still have to see about that tux. Don't forget yours!" The detective inspector's voice echoed as he turned the car around back out to the streets.
-0-
Sherlock was alway one for the dramatics, never passed up the opportunity to be dramatic if he could be.
"Molly!?" Flinging the morgue's double doors, Sherlock forwent his new found trust in the white cane of freedom and strolled confidently into the large lab room with his cane neatly clasped in one hand dangling a few inches from the shiny white tile.
Aside from the flat, this was the only other place he felt comfortable to walk freely about. Though he still has a minimal percentage of his remaining sight, it made navigating the well-lit room easier because Sherlock knew Molly kept always it in pristine conditions from the first day she began to work there. It if had been cluttered and disorganised he would have sought out John's elbow along with the cane.
John followed close behind, but didn't make any noise. He wanted to know how Sherlock would act, every single time in the morgue lab was a completely new experience for them both.
When Molly poked her head out of the office, her heart might have jumped at bit, froze a bit, and swelled with joy a bit. That probably was a gross understatement...it wasn't just a bit, it was "bounding up and down with joy" to see her Sherlock resume his normal annoying, demanding, most of the time rude-self.
"I certainly don't appreciate his ungentlemanly mannersims, but it's so good to have him not sulk around the flat or cower behind John terrified of being see in public," Molly murmmered as she quickly crossed the room and stood directly infront of Sherlock.
"Well, well, well," she crossed her arms and shifted her weight to one leg, "Hello John. What do you need this time Sherlock?"
"You," he replied in a steady voice devoid of any emotion. John and Molly share the same wide-mouth, deer in the headlight expression. It was something entirely unexpected, but said man seemed unfazed by the reaction of his word.
"Say that one more time Sherlock?! I don't appreciate being tried with. Why are you really here? A request for body parts? Lab results? Hmm?" Her glaring eyes soon dissovlved in to a kinder one when she saw the twitch of a smile forming on Sherlock's face.
"Don't make me repeat myself Molly, you know I can't stand sounding like a broken record. I need you."
John cleared his throat softly and mumbled a soft "I'm going home to Mary," to the pair as he quickly vanished from the room. He felt terribly uncomfortable standing there watching the interaction, like he was intruding in a private conversation.
"Sherlock?" Molly's prompted gently while she directed them to her office and sat by his side, "would you like to elaborate on why you need my help? Can't help unless I know what I'm asked to do."
"I need you to analyse this," pulling the torn pieces of the invitation from a small plastic bag," the handwriting and ink need to be cross analysed with the first one. I'm sure these notes are connect to a single person who knows a great deal between the two big companies, and I would like to come with me as guests to the companies' dinner gathering. It's a formal arrangement, you'll need a full length evening dress," the moment Molly made a movement to accepted the paper he continued in his usual brisk rambling manner as if he hadn't asked Molly to attend a gathering with the sole purpose of fulfilling the 'guest and plus one', "the ink analysis should be the same since John told me the handwriting looks like the one who wrote the first one, but I require your confirmation of it. Lestrade's trained monkeys are suppose to find a connection between the two places and possibly a list of under the table behaviour."
Molly popped up as soon as he took in a breath, his hand in her left and the evidence in her right.
"Ok! Come on then," she practically had to drag the mildly stunned grown child to the lab tables. He hadn't taken in to account the possibility of her being so energetic, but he wouldn't deny enjoying it. He would have thought her to be stunned with the proposal, but she didn't even mention it. He didn't know to take it.
Have I done wrong? Should I perhaps have started the conversation with that? proposal Why don't women even say what they think?
-0-
Working meticulously through the analysis of both papers took quite a while, nearly four hours of hard thinking and waiting for the result papers. A single ring from Sherlock's mobile broke the duo's intense concentration.
"Hey Sherlock, come by the office tomorrow. We have a few points of interest the team found rummaging through the paperwork."
"Good. I'll let John now. See you tomorrow Lestrade."
Ringing off, he turned his attention back to Molly and her reading of the results.
Not even was she a minuet into speaking Molly's mobile rang, it was Mary with an invitation for dinner at the Watson's flat.
"Right then. Sorry Sherlock. Back to the results. So based on the composition of the ink and handwriting of the first one and now when compared with the second..."
Sherlock's mobile rung again loudly interrupting the pathologist's soft voice. With an exasperated sigh and dramatic eye roll, Sherlock picked up the call.
This time was John, but he didn't ring for an invitation to dine together. It was a loud tirade going off on "do you have any idea what time it is?" followed with an order to come back to the flat and eat. He might have also mentioned something about making sure Molly comes too, but Sherlock couldn't be too sure since his ears were filled with annoyance.
With Sherlock still being chewed out for not taking care of himself, Molly quickly gathered up the results, tidied the lab, and grabbed their belongings. Sometimes she enjoyed watching Sherlock be disciplined, it was like watching a small child being scolded for eating the last biscuit from the bin before dinner.
"Come Sherlock," she pressed his coat and cane in his open palms, "don't think we'll get anything more done now, especially with all these calls coming in and you being ordered home."
-0-
The two walked to Baker Street linked together, Molly on his left and the cane in his right. They were both laughing and acting silly causing a small spectacle on the pavement. Thankfully few were left on the street at that hour to watch them lose their composure and decorum.
Unknowing to them, Mary just chanced to pass by the window when she saw the sweet scene stroll up the street still tightly bound to each other, quickly she took a photo and sent it off to John with stern instructions not to tell Sherlock. She would tell Molly later, much later.
Waiting for the two to come home, Mary gaze at the photo smiling to herself. It was a sight she wanted to have happen for a long time already, it finally was starting to take form.
A-N: Thank you for reading and leaving comments! I appreciate you taking time to do that. Some Mary and Sherlock conversations to come. :)