Twelve hours to solve my puzzle, Sherlock... or I'm going to be so naughty...
The words from the haunting phone call still echoed in Max's mind fifteen minutes later as she and Sherlock climbed out of the cab. They only had twelve hours to figure out what the sneakers meant. Twelve hours...
After the phone call, Lestrade and John had hurried off to Scotland Yard to report the case, while Sherlock and Max headed to St Bartholomew's Hospital with the sneakers. For the record, it had been a very strange experience to ride in a cab next to a random pair of shoes.
Max found it strange that she wasn't more worried about the situation; a woman's life was on the line, yet she was more disturbed about finding a random pair of shoes in an abandoned flat. Considering how she had reacted when Soo Lin had been killed, she would have thought that she would be freaking out right about now.
Maybe it was because she trusted Sherlock to save that woman.
Currently, said detective strode through the doors of the hospital, his coat flaring out behind him and the sneakers in his hands. Max hurried after him, half-jogging to keep up with his fast pace. She didn't know where they were going, but Sherlock seemed to have a destination in mind as he navigated through the winding hallways.
Eventually they reached what appeared to be the lab area.
"Sherlock!" someone exclaimed. Max turned around to see a woman in a lab coat running up to them. She seemed to be about the same age as Max, with long brown hair pulled back in a ponytail and a smile on her face... which was an extremely different reaction than most people had when Sherlock walked into the room.
The smile slid from her face when she saw Max standing there, replaced by one of confusion. "Oh, hello," she said.
Max gave her a small smile, equally as startled. "Hi," she replied.
Sherlock barely glanced at either of them, apparently not noticing the awkward atmosphere- but that was to be expected, after all. "Max, this is Molly," he said. "Molly, Max. C'mon, Max, we need to run some tests." Without another word, he headed off towards the lab with the sneakers.
The two girls stared at each other for a few seconds, still trying to make sense of each other's presence, then Max laughed awkwardly. "Sorry about that," she told her. She held out her hand. "I'm Max."
Molly shook the offered hand. "It's fine, I'm used to it by now," she replied kindly. "I'm Molly."
Neither of them spoke for a bit, but then Max cleared her throat awkwardly. "So, err... does he come here a lot?" Max asked. "Sherlock, I mean."
Molly smiled a bit at the thought. "Oh, a lot," she answered. She glanced through the glass on the door to look in the lab, where Sherlock was already beginning his examination of the sneakers. "I wonder what he's doing this time."
Max followed her gaze to Sherlock, who was still oblivious to the fact that she hadn't followed him into the lab. "We need to figure out what those shoes mean in twelve hours or else someone's going to die," she explained.
To Max's surprise, Molly didn't freak out.
"So you work with him, then?" was all she said.
She seemed nice.
000
A few hours later, they were still at the lab.
Lunchtime had long since gone and past, but Sherlock showed no sign of stopping his analysis of the sneakers. Max, being the dutiful friend that she was, had stayed with him.
She probably would have starved to death if John hadn't come with snacks.
"Thank you thank you thank you!" Max exclaimed, pouncing on him and grabbing a bag of chips.
John blinked in surprise, apparently confused as to why she was so hungry. "What...?" he trailed off.
"We haven't had lunch," Sherlock answered, barely looking up from the microscope, where he was studying a piece of dried mud from the soles of the sneakers.
John looked at him in annoyance. "Why- never mind," he said.
Max just sat there happily, eating the chips.
"Scotland Yard knows about the situation," John told them. He looked around the lab, taking in the various tools and machines scattered around the room, as well as the table in the middle that Sherlock and Max were seated at. "So, who d'you suppose it was?"
Sherlock's phone suddenly beeped, but he didn't pay any attention to it. "Hmm?" he asked John, not even looking up at him.
John blinked. "The woman on the phone, the crying woman," he said, as if that was obvious.
Sherlock shrugged. "Oh, she doesn't matter," he answered. "She's just a hostage; no lead there."
John shot him a look. "For God's sake, I wasn't thinking about leads!" he exclaimed.
Max sighed. "John-" she started.
"You're not going to be much use to her," Sherlock told John.
Max glared at him. "Sherlock-" she attempted in the same tone.
"Are- are they trying to trace it, to trace the call?" John interrupted.
Max groaned. "Oh my God," she muttered. "Can I finish a sentence?"
"The bomber's too smart for that," Sherlock answered, completely ignoring her.
Suddenly Sherlock's phone beeped again, and Sherlock scowled. "Pass me my phone," he requested.
John glanced around the table, but there wasn't any sign of the phone. "Where is it?" he asked.
Sherlock still didn't look up. "Jacket," he answered.
His statement was met with silence as John glared at him and Max looked at him in disbelief. "You're wearing your jacket," Max stated.
"I know," Sherlock said.
Max and John shared a look, silently arguing over who was going to do it. You're sitting right next to him, John's eyes said.
There was nothing that Max could say to that, so she sighed and reached around Sherlock to get to his pocket. "Careful-" he started, but he suddenly fell silent when her arm brushed against his. Max hesitated, suddenly aware of the proximity of his body to hers; but then she shook it off and slipped the phone out of his pocket, returning to her original position.
"It's from Mycroft," she reported. She glanced at the message.
RE: BRUCE-PARTINGTON PLANS
Any progress on Andrew West's death?
Mycroft
Sherlock grimaced. "Delete it," he told her.
"Delete it?" John echoed in disbelief.
Still, Sherlock didn't turn his gaze away from the microscope. "Missile plans are out of the country now," he explained. "Nothing we can do about it."
Max frowned as she scrolled through the previous texts. "Well, Mycroft still seems to think that it's important, considering he texted you eight times," she commented.
That finally caused Sherlock to look up, his expression thoroughly annoyed. "If it's so important, then why didn't he cancel his dental appointment?" he challenged.
John blinked, just as confused as Max was. "His what?" he repeated.
Sherlock sighed. "Mycroft never texts if he can talk," he explained. "Look, Andrew West stole the missile plans, tried to sell them, got his head smashed in for his pains. End of story. The only mystery is this: why is my brother so determined to bore me when somebody else is being so delightfully interesting?"
With that, he turned back to the microscope.
Max put his phone down on the table as John shot Sherlock an irritated look. "Try and remember there's a woman here who might die," he told him.
The consulting detective looked up again, his expression mirroring John's. "What for?" he asked. "The hospital's full of people dying, Doctor. Why don't you go and cry by their bedside and-"
"Sherlock," Max interrupted.
He stopped talking and glanced at her. The expression on her face seemed to tell him all that he needed to know; sighing, he turned back to the microscope...
... just as the computer beeped.
"Ah!" Sherlock exclaimed in delight. Max glanced over at the computer screen, which was flashing the words "SEARCH COMPLETE."
Well, Max wasn't exactly sure what had just happened, but it seemed to be good news.
The door to the lab suddenly swung open, and Max glanced up to see Molly walking in. "Any luck?" she asked.
Sherlock beamed happily. "Oh, yes!" he answered enthusiastically.
Molly headed over to look at the screen, but as she did the door opened again. A brown-haired man entered the room, in his early thirties and wearing slacks and a T-shirt. He stopped when he saw them gathered around the computer, then started slowly backing out timidly. "Oh, sorry, I didn't-" he started.
"Jim!" Molly exclaimed. "Hi! Come in, come in!"
Something in her tone made Sherlock look up and glance at her, making his deductions as usual, then turned back to the microscope. Meanwhile, Jim headed closer to them. "Jim, this is Sherlock Holmes," Molly told him. Jim's eyes widened in recognition. "And Max, and uh..." She glanced at John with a blank expression, then smiled apologetically. "Sorry."
"John Watson," John said. "Hi."
Jim nodded. "Hi," he replied, even though his eyes were on Sherlock with an admiring expression. "So, you're Sherlock Holmes. Molly's told me all about you. You on one of your cases?"
Oh, God... Max thought, trying to hide her annoyance. We really don't need this right now...
"Yeah, actually," she told him. "It's kinda important-"
He walked closer to look at the screen, bumping John out of the way. Max frowned at him, but Sherlock didn't even notice. "Jim works in I.T. upstairs," Molly explained. "That's how we met. Office romance." She and Jim laughed happily.
Max resisted the urge to gag.
Sherlock finally glanced up from the microscope, looking at Jim briefly. Max wasn't exactly sure what she expected him to say, but it certainly wasn't the word that came out of his mouth.
"Gay," he muttered.
Everyone stared at him in disbelief, and Molly's smile slid off of her face. "Sorry, what?" she asked.
Sherlock paused when he realized what he had just done, and for half a second he was silent. Then he looked up and gave Jim a forced smile. "Uh, hey," he lied.
Jim smiled back at him. "Hey," he replied, a dreamy quality to his voice.
He reached out to shake hands, but ended up knocking over a metal dish. John flinched, and instantly Jim bent down to pick it up. "Sorry, sorry!" he exclaimed, laughing awkwardly.
Sherlock flashed him an irritated look, but otherwise didn't say anything as Jim put the dish back on the table. Jim headed back to where Molly was standing. "Well, I'd better be off," he commented. "I'll see you at the Fox, about six-ish?"
Molly smiled happily. "Yeah," she agreed.
Jim placed a hand on her back. "Bye," he said.
"Bye," Molly breathed.
He turned back to look at Sherlock. "It was nice to see you," he told him.
An awkward silence fell over the room when Sherlock didn't reply. Max and John shared a look, then John cleared his throat. "Uh, you too," he said.
"Have fun at the Fox," Max added.
Jim blinked in surprise, apparently having forgotten about them. Then he turned and walked out of the room.
The second the door closed behind him, all hell broke loose.
Molly turned to Sherlock, her eyes flashing dangerously. "What d'you mean, gay?" she demanded. "We're together!"
Sherlock nodded. "And domestic bliss must suit you, Molly," he said dryly. "You've put on three pounds since I last saw you."
Max groaned. "He doesn't mean that," she told Molly.
"Yes I do," Sherlock added.
Molly frowned. "Two and a half," she corrected.
Sherlock glanced up at her again. "Nuh, three," he stated.
John pinched the bridge of his nose. "Sherlock..." he warned.
"He's not gay!" Molly exclaimed. "Why d'you have to spoil... He's not!"
Sherlock scoffed. "With that level of personal grooming?" he challenged.
John gave him a look. "Because he puts a bit of product in his hair?" he demanded. "I put product in my hair."
Sherlock shook his head. "You wash your hair," he corrected. "There's a difference. No, no: tinted eyelashes, clear signs of taurine cream around the frown lines, those tired clubber's eyes. Then there's his underwear-"
"His underwear?!" Molly exclaimed.
"Why were you looking at his underwear?" Max added.
Sherlock sighed. "Visible above the waistline, very visible," he explained. "Very particular brand."
Max gave him a look. "Alright, but that doesn't mean he's gay-" she started.
"Well, what about the extremely suggestive fact that he just left his number under the dish here?" Sherlock interrupted, picking up the metal dish that Jim had knocked over. Sure enough, there was a piece of paper there with a phone number on it.
Well, there was no arguing with that.
Sherlock sighed and looked at Molly. "I'd say you'd better break it off now and save yourself the pain," he told her.
Molly was silent for a few seconds as she stared at him, trying to wrap her mind around what had just happened. Then she turned and ran out of the room.
John sighed. "Charming," he said sarcastically. "Well done."
Sherlock blinked in surprise. "Just saving her time," he replied. "Isn't that kinder?"
John looked at him in disbelief. "Kind?" he repeated. "No, Sherlock, that wasn't kind."
Sherlock glanced at Max, silently asking her opinion. She just pointed at John. "What he said," she told him. "I'm gonna go make sure she's okay."
With that, she turned and walked out of the room.
The door slammed closed behind her, and when it did Sherlock looked at John in confusion. "I didn't say anything to upset her," he stated. "Did I?"
John sighed. "Well-" he started, but then he thought better of it and shook his head. "Never mind."
000
Max had long since figured out that when a girl was upset, she would head to the bathroom. And, once again, it proved to be true.
Molly had been standing by the sink with her face hidden behind her hands, but when she heard Max approaching she quickly stood up straighter and tried to wipe her tears away. "Hi, Max," she said.
Max gave her a small smile and leaned against the sink counter next to her. "You okay?" she asked.
It was a stupid question, but sometimes people needed to hear stupid questions like that. Sure enough, it made Molly's lips twitch up in a small smile. "I'm sorry," she sniffled. "I didn't mean to storm out like that, I just..."
Max nodded. "No, I get it," she reassured her. "He can be a lot sometimes."
Molly laughed. "That's putting it lightly," she said. The smile suddenly slid from her face, and she shook her head sadly. "I used to fancy him, y'know. I still do." She sniffled again. "I thought I was getting over it with Jim, but I'm not, really."
She burst out into another round of tears, and instead of saying anything Max just pulled her into a hug, letting her get it all out.
What did Molly see in Sherlock? There was no doubt that he was handsome, but once she looked past that there was... Sherlock, with all his bizarre habits and brutally honest deductions, who kept heads in refrigerators and had the talent of annoying pretty much anyone he talked to.
But maybe that was why. The more she thought about it, Max had to admit that her time with Sherlock was refreshing. He was so different from everyone else that he kept her guessing, and something about that drew her in.
Maybe... just maybe... she could understand why Molly loved him.
000
Meanwhile, back in the lab, Sherlock pushed the sneakers across the table towards John. "Go on, then," he said.
John blinked. "Hmm?" he asked.
Sherlock gestured to the shoes. "You know what I do," he told him. "Off you go."
John looked at him in disbelief, sputtering angrily for a few seconds. "No," he finally stated.
But Sherlock didn't seem willing to take no for an answer, because he pushed the shoes closer. "Go on," he said.
John scoffed. "I'm not gonna stand here so you can humiliate me while I try and disseminate-" he started.
"An outside eye, a second opinion," Sherlock interrupted. "It's very useful for me."
The expression on John's face didn't change. "Yeah, right!" he said sarcastically.
Sherlock looked at him seriously. "Really," he stated.
The two of them glared at each other, both of them refusing to back down. Then John nodded unhappily. "Fine," he grumbled. He cleared his throat and picked up one of the sneakers. "Well..."
000
A few minutes later, Max's phone suddenly beeped.
She turned away from Molly see that Sherlock had just texted her. Sighing, she opened her phone and read the message.
We're leaving. Meet us outside.
SH
Max frowned and, after shooting an apologetic look at Molly, texted back.
We're leaving? Are you done?
A few seconds passed as Sherlock typed his reply, and then her phone beeped again.
I found what I was looking for.
The shoes belonged to Carl Powers.
Max frowned in confusion.
Slow down. Carl Powers?
Sherlock's response was quick and to the point, yet somehow it caused Max to shudder.
Where I began.
Molly gave her a small smile. "Duty calls?" she asked.
Max looked at her in concern. "Yeah," she answered. "Are you gonna be okay? I can stay-"
"No, no, go ahead," Molly said. "Have fun."
Max smiled at her thankfully, then turned and hurried out of the bathroom.