The drive to St. Bart's Hospital was a short one in Danielle's opinion. It didn't give her a lot of time to think about why they were here.
Danielle was usually anxious when taken someplace new and unknown. She thinks it's because her mum would drive her around and Danielle would be forced to go dress shopping or stupid play dates with boring girls at school. (Plus the traumatic experience of her mother's less than sane drive to Danielle's surprise sweet sixteen. She thought her mother had finally snapped)
The mini-phobia broke when she got her own license and started taking taxis. The idea of her driving herself felt nice for that confidence (and never getting into a car her mother was driving).
So it helped her anxiety to know that she and Sherlock Holmes were inside Bart's Hospital to see a corpse, a new possible flat mate, and a woman named Molly.
Molly.
Molly and a flatmate.
The young landlady made sure to follow Sherlock. She'd not been to Bart's before, and she didn't want to get lost. Danielle had no idea where Molly or the new flatmate were yet. She barely knew why she had come along.
They were approaching a door marked Authorized Personnel Only. Danielle hesitated, unsure if this was really allowed. Shouldn't they be waiting for someone to let them in?
"Just walk like you own the place." Sherlock advised, though barely. It was almost like he had forgotten she was there.
Danielle bit her lip. "I don't even own a car!"
The tall man glowered at her. "Alright. Just stay behind me, you're slowing us down."
Danielle wasn't given a chance to argue or glare. Her neighbor strutted off beyond the door, telling her to either follow or be left behind. Danielle followed.
(Though she did glance at the security cameras as she walked. )
When they walked into the mortuary, Danielle feeling the cold through her purple shirt, she was surprised at the woman standing there.
Danielle didn't let herself think much about Molly. Another fun fact was that she had an active imagination. Most of the time it was fine for a good laugh, other times it was less okay.
Ever since Danielle first heard about Molly, her imagination was went wild with ideas. Molly, drop dead (pun unintended) gorgeous woman with blonde hair and diamonds for teeth. Molly, crotchety old lady with a scowl and yellow teeth.
She knew both of them were ridiculous, but she couldn't stop it. It's like when you tell yourself not to think of something, so it's all you think about.
Danielle felt relieved to see a somewhat mousy brunette, with big brown eyes and a sweet smile. She always liked it when the world surprised her.
Molly seemed quite nice. Her brown hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, showing off her pale cheeks and a cute button nose. She had on a lovely outfit, more fitting to London weather. It was a bit weird though for her to dress so nicely for a job this disgusting. But the that must be what the lab coat was for, keeping off the stains.
Did Danielle forget to mention the bodybag?
"Oh!" The young woman yelped. "Hello." She flashed her attention to the tall pale man. "Ah, who's that?"
"Danielle Nolan." She introduced, with a peppy smile. Danielle "Good to meet you."
Molly did not seem as eager to make a new friend as Danielle. She took Danielle's hand, giving it a nervous shake. Why a 30 year old woman was awkward shaking a 27 year old woman's hand, we can guess.
The man did not care for their little meeting. Why would he? There was work to be done.
He unzipped the body bag. He began to take in the details of the body inside. Sherlock had been waiting for weeks for this chance. It was so much easier to run these kinds of tests when they died naturally.
As per usual, Molly didn't disappoint.
Danielle though. She was turning out to be an odd one. She hadn't asked why he was here, or why he was examining the body.
Sherlock sniffed the body. "How fresh?" He asked sternly.
The question brought Molly back into the proper mindset. Honestly, he couldn't understand why women were always so social. "Just in. Sixty-seven, natural causes." She smiled. It was such a sweet smile. So sweet Danielle wondered how she could've imagined Molly as a cross old woman. "He used to work here. I knew him. He was nice."
Sherlock nodded, content with that assessment. He zipped up the bag, turning to the two humans in the room.
"Fine. We'll start with the riding crop."
==NKMHLY==
As horrible as it was, Danielle found herself entranced.
The loud crack of leather against the recently deceased man. The rapid fire of the blows. That knowledge that the man would never scream in pain again. There had been the surprisingly easy method of pulling him out of the body bag, onto a slab.
Danielle briefly thought that there was so much wrong with this situation. A man whipping a dead body with a riding crop, it's not the sort of thing that just happens.
After the dearly departed man was laid on the table, Sherlock had ordered the both leave. Molly must be used to it, as she strolled right out like it was time for her lunch break. Danielle was slower, if only caused she was staring at Sherlock holding a riding crop over a dead body.
Molly walked Danielle into the observation room. For the past few minutes, they could only watch as Sherlock commenced his experiment.
"So...who are you?" Molly asked, trying to sound polite. She knew she had no right to be jealous. It's not like she and Sherlock were anything. "How do you know Sherlock?"
It helped break Danielle out of the odd thoughts. She glanced at Molly, suddenly remembering she hadn't been alone in here. "No one, really. Just his neighbor. He brought me here."
"That was...nice of him." Molly commented. She shouldn't make this weird. Sherlock had only brought a woman here. He was allowed friends...did he even have those?
"He said it was because I saw the skull." Danielle added, staring at the consulting detective at work. She glanced at Molly as her pale cheeks turned a light shade of pink. "He did this thing. He knew all these little things about me. He promised to tell me how he did it if I came here with him."
Molly laughed fondly. She remembered when Sherlock first did that. It was the first time she let him into the mortuary some four years ago. The mortician thought Sherlock was being a prat (albeit a cute prat. But didn't they all?).
"And you just...followed him?" Molly asked, trying to stay polite and keep the conversation friendly. She ended up sounding a bit skeptical.
Which made Danielle's cheeks go a bit brighter pink.
"If he came to me because of the skull, I came to him because of the answers." Danielle explained simply. It made perfect sense in her mind.
Danielle paused. She turned her attention back to the odd scene in the other room. She didn't even notice Molly quickly put on lipstick.
By the time she would've, both women were walking back inside. Sherlock had stopped the proceedings, even putting the riding crop aside for a notepad.
Molly spoke first. "So, bad day, was it?"
"He moved his things in today." Danielle answered. She heard what Molly had said, just didn't understand that it was a joke. "Not so bad, really. I mean...I don't think so."
Once again, Sherlock paid them no mind. His focus was on science! "I need to know what bruises form in the next twenty minutes. A man's alibi depends on it. Text me."
Danielle at least understood the why, and the urgency. A man was apparently going to go to jail if they...didn't whip a dead body? She'd ask on the way to this flatmate.
The mortician took a chance. If Danielle wasn't a date or girlfriend (Sherlock would think going to the morgue would be a nice date) then Molly had a chance. She came up closer, enough so that Danielle couldn't hear the private conversation. "Listen, I was wondering. Maybe later, when you're finished-"
"Are you wearing lipstick?" Sherlock asked, doing a double take when he realized it. "You weren't wearing lipstick before."
"Oh! And it's gorgeous!" Danielle chirped. She always had trouble with lipstick. It was never the right shade for her.
Just like that, Molly lost her confidence. The presence of the other woman, with her bright clear blue eyes and a smile that made her feel like an old friend, was making Molly wonder why she bothered.
Sherlock had at least noticed her lipstick, and hadn't criticized it. He criticized her last haircut, saying the short hair made her head look rounder. "I, er, I refreshed it a bit." Molly admitted, a displaced frown on her face.
Sherlock accepted the obvious lie. She hadn't been wearing lipstick. Clearly she was subconsciously competing with the young landlady. Why were women always competing?
Well, Danielle wasn't. She was encouraging Molly's lipstick, instead of dismissing it. There were a multitude of reasons why. It was probably because Danielle wasn't wearing any so she felt she was already losing. No. That's not it. More likely that-Sherlock she was asking you about something. Pay attention!
"Sorry, you were saying?"
Molly swallowed the small lump in her throat. "I was wondering if you'd like to have coffee."
Danielle held back a gasp. Oh. Now things were making sense. Walking in with familiarity, Sherlock casually talking to Molly, Molly asking questions (she had been seeing if Danielle was competition!), the fresh lipstick, Sherlock's lost face when he saw the lipstick.
Molly fancied Sherlock. Sherlock fancied Molly!
A distance voice in her mind, sounding an awful lot like her mother, told Danielle to stop being such a starry eyed fool. Romance isn't happening every time two people chat!
...as usual the voice had a point. The eldest Nolan did let herself get swept up in these things.
"Black, two sugars, please. I'll be upstairs." Sherlock began walking away from the put down mortician.
The redhead subjected herself to a world with one less couple. She was too much of a romantic.
"Danielle, with me."
"I'm not a dog, Sherlock." She commented before trailing behind him.
"...Okay." Molly sighed.
They had barely cleared the room before more questions came up to Danielle.
"What's the alibi got to do with flogging a dead man?" Danielle asked as soon as they cleared the mortuary door. It would be rude to ask about the Molly situation. Plus, he didn't look eager to go 'get coffee' at all.
Sherlock continued walking, but answered. "I needed to see if the bruise pattern matches that of a recent victim."
"So, you consult with the police then?" Danielle asked.
Her face scrunching up as she imagined Sherlock Holmes surrounded by the police (in a good way, mind you).
It was the only time sne'd ever heard of people being called victims. He also called himself a consulting detective, or so Mrs Hudson had said.
He seemed to be amused by her comment. He didn't continue the conversation, only speaking moments later telling his neighbor they were going to see about this flatmate.
==NKMHLY==
Danielle was bored.
Sherlock had brought her here, with the intention of meeting a flatmate. Well, no, it was to examine some flakes from another crime scene. Danielle had tried to strike up a conversation, only to find that Sherlock was properly tuning her out.
This left her in a room with a lot of things she didn't know about waiting for a flatmate or for Sherlock to finish.
Though finish with what, Danielle's active imagination couldn't hope to guess.
She didn't like the silence in the room. There was always usually some noise. Her dog's claws on hardwood, the cat playing with a toy mouse, her neighbor stomping about 223b, her telly playing old reruns. Danielle liked having noise in the flat.
She was about to try again to fill the silence. He had to respond sometime, right? She was stopped when the door to the lab opened.
A man walked into the lab. He was a bit large, with short black hair and black rimmed glasses. He was dressed in brown suit, with a white plaid button up, and a ridiculous looking red and yellow striped tie.
A second man limped in behind the first. Danielle thought he looked nice. He had sorta ashen blond hair, cut shorter than the first man's. He wore a dark blue plaid button up, with a black jacket. He was using a cane. He wasn't leaning on it completely. Danielle thought he looked a bit like a hedgehog.
"Well, bit different from my day." The second man mused.
The first man grinned, like the second had made a joke. "You've no idea!" He laughed.
Danielle wondered which one was the new flatmate. Sherlock ignored their musings, choosing instead to go to the microscope. "Mike, can I borrow your phone? There's no signal on mine."
The first man, probably Mike, looked at Sherlock. "And what's wrong with the landline?"
Sherlock stayed in his position. "I prefer to text."
He shrugged. "Sorry. It's in my coat." Though by his tone, he wasn't sorry at all.
Danielle went to get her phone from inside her purse. "I can get mine-"
"Err. Here." The as of yet unnamed man held his phone out towards Sherlock. He was much faster than Danielle. That might be because he didn't have to search for it in a purse. "Use mine."
The consulting detective stared at him a moment. Danielle wanted to say Sherlock Holmes was surprised. "Oh. Thank you." He rose up from the stool, reaching over to grab the phone.
"It's an old friend of mine, John Watson." Mike explained.
Danielle and Sherlock stared at this hedgehog of a man. The scientist didn't stare for long opening up the phone. Danielle had realized this must be the flatmate Sherlock was meeting. She wondered why Mike had been so bland with the greeting, now she knew nothing about John.
The young landlady thought it was the perfect time to introduce herself. She'd just been the quiet bystander up to this point. "Nice to meet you, John." Danielle greeted. She walked over towards him, holding out her hand. "I'm Danielle Nolan."
John smiled politely.
"What're you doing in here?" Mike asked Danielle, as if having a similar thought as to her not being a silent bystander anymore.
"He brought me." Danielle teased the accusation, motioning to Sherlock with a wave. "Wouldn't take no for an answer."
"Afghanistan or Iraq?"
Danielle and John turned to Sherlock. He wasn't talking to Danielle, she knew. She never did anything with Afghanistan except see it on the telly.
"Sorry?"John asked.
"Which was it-Afghanistan or Iraq?" Sherlock clarified in a deep baritone voice. He gave a quick look up to him.
John Watson had come to Bart's to meet a potential flatmate. As far as he knew, John was a stranger to Sherlock. How could he know anything? John knew Mike hadn't said anything...
...which was odd, because Mike hadn't said anything to Sherlock at all, beyond his name.
John turned to Mike. The very question in his eyes. Mike only smiled as if watching his favorite program, and the best part was coming up.
His friend being no help, John turned to the other strawberry blonde woman. She was staring at the scene with faint recognition. She was still confused, definitely, but with an idea as to what the bizarre man was talking about.
"Afghanistan." The still confused doctor answered. "Sorry, how did you know-"
Suddenly, Molly came in, cup of coffee in hand.
Sherlock seemed to expect her coming at that moment. "Ah, Molly, coffee." The mousy mortician came up between the two men, holding up the glass cup of coffee. "Thank you."
He slid John's phone closed, handing it back. John was wondering when in the conversation his time in the war had come up without him knowing. Danielle wondered when Molly had taken off her lipstick.
She wouldn't ask though. Her mum always made a point of Danielle not being rude to people.
"What happened to the lipstick?"
Danielle suddenly praised the idea of Sherlock never being around her mother.
"It wasn't working for me." Molly admitted, awkwardly.
"Really? I thought it was a big improvement." Sherlock countered. "Your mouth's too small now."
Sherlock walked past her. Danielle stared at him, shocked at him being so rude. She shouldn't be too surprised. It was barely an hour ago that he was tugging Erika's leash out of her hands.
Molly wasn't thinking along the same lines. Clearly his rudeness was a common occurrence. "...Okay."
Call it Girl Code, but Danielle couldn't let Molly walk out of this room with that look. "I thought you looked pretty." Danielle tried to cheer up the mortician. "It made your eyes pop, and made your cheeks look more pink."
Though Molly was hurt, Danielle's words had helped. "Thanks." She left the room. This was enough 'Sherlock' for one day.
Danielle frowned, but perked up. There would be other opportunities to make friends with Molly.
"How do you feel about the violin?" Sherlock asked. It was directed at John again. The man with the cane coming out of his dumbstruck revivré
Sherlock's stoic voice gave Danielle the idea to whack Sherlock upside his head. She wondered if his curls would bounce off his head.
John wondering why Sherlock cared. "I'm sorry, what?"
Danielle was about to ask similar, until she saw Mike's smug grin.
Her eyes lit up. Oh my, Sherlock was about to do that deduction trick again, wasn't he? She'd only seen it one time and it was already her favorite thing.
Mike must've known. That's why he had been so simple when introducing John! He wanted John to be deduced by Sherlock!
While typing fast paced on a laptop, Sherlock didn't disappoint. "I play the violin when I'm thinking. Sometimes I don't talk for days on end." He peered over at John. "Would that bother you? Potential flatmates should know the worst about each other."
Then he gave John the most fake friendly smile Danielle had ever seen.
She...felt that was a bit lackluster. Wasn't he gonna go on a big rant like he had with her? John already knew he was here for a flatmate, why did the consulting detective point it out?
John turned to his friend. "Oh, you...you told him about me?"
Mike smiled knowingly. "Not a word."
"But how did he know he was meeting a flatmate?" Danielle asked, eyebrows going up. "He knew that this morning. That's what he told me when we were coming here. Someone had to tell him, right?"
"Correct, Danielle. I did." Sherlock spoke in a voice that Danielle knew could only precede a long speech. He grabbed the blue coat, wrapping it around him. "Told Mike this morning that I must be a difficult man to find a flatmate for. Now here he is just after lunch with an old friend, clearly just home from military service in Afghanistan. Wasn't that difficult a leap."
"'Clearly'?" Danielle pointed out.
"Yeah, how did you know about Afghanistan?" The doctor asked.
True to his character, Sherlock Holmes ignored them in favor of his scarf. He pulled out his cellphone-
"Hold on, you had your bloody phone?" Danielle snapped. "Then why ask for our's?"
"Got my eye on a nice little place in central London." Sherlock went on. Danielle found herself staring at Mike, with an expression of 'this is what I deal with now'. She thought she looked like Jim from The Office. "Together we ought to be able to afford it."
He made his way to the door, stopping at Danielle's side. "We'll meet there tomorrow evening; seven o'clock. Sorry-gotta dash. I think I left my riding crop in the mortuary."
The young landlady was surprised. So surprised she only barely remembered she should probably be following him. 'How does one forget their riding crop?' She mused. 'And, how is John supposed to find it? Does Mike tell him, or is that it?'
John turned to them. "Is that it?" He asked.
Sherlock and Danielle paused. Danielle turned to pay careful attention to her possible neighbor. Sherlock, on the other hand, twirled around to John. "Is that what?" Sherlock asked in an all too innocent voice.
"We've only just met and we're gonna go and look at a flat?" John questioned the sanity of everyone involved.
The dark haired man raised a questioning eyebrow. "Problem?" He asked, as if the answer wasn't clear to him.
This made the other man start to laugh. Danielle watched as John tried getting help from Mike, only for Mike to smile at Sherlock. In a last ditch effort he looked to Danielle. She knew she was no help. She was hoping Sherlock with deduce John Watson.
"We don't know a thing about each other; I don't know where we're meeting; I don't even know your name." John argued.
Oh.
Yes.
Knowing the name is important, isn't it?
Danielle felt her pale cheeks go pink when she recalled no one had said Sherlock's name. Well, that's all just wonderful isn't it?
The consulting detective studied John one more time before explaining everything.
"I know you're an Army doctor and you've been invalided home from Afghanistan. I know you've got a brother who's worried about you but you won't go to him for help because you don't approve of him-possibly because he's an alcoholic; more likely because he recently walked out on his wife. And I know that your therapist thinks your limp's psychosomatic-quite correctly, I'm afraid."
And instantly, Danielle was smiling like a child getting cotton candy.
The victim of the deduction stared down at his leg, feeling awkward. Why was everyone so insistent that his limp was psychosomatic?
Sherlock was smug that he managed to impress Danielle twice now. That was a bit of a scientific oddity, in his experience at least. Usually someone was hitting him by now. "That's enough to be going on with, don't you think?"
He twirled around to continue on to the mortuary. That riding crop was perfect for his experiments. It could take ages to find a new one that fit into Sherlock's needs.
He pulled open the door, half noticing Danielle staring at him with wide eyes, before turning to John again. He had made a point about the name and address thing. Sherlock doubted Mike would tell him.
"The name's Sherlock Holmes and the address is 221B Baker Street." He winked at John, then with a quick 'afternoon' to Mike and a 'hurry along' to Danielle.
Who, again, wasn't a dog!
She turned to Mike, once again staring at him like Jim stared at cameras. Beside her, John was making a similar expression of confusion.
Mike nodded knowingly at them (had he ever stopped doing that?). "Yeah. He's always like that."
This was certainly going to be a fun night.
Especially when Danielle realized they would be breaking into the mortuary again! Dammit!
==NKMHLY==
AN: Sorry this was late! Hope you enjoyed this chapter. I've had the flu on and off for two weeks.
That, and the sheer amount of Sherlolly in TFP made my head spin and my heart hurt. Just the whole episode in general, I've been teasing my Sherlockian friends about it all week. It's either that or I suffer alone.
Thanks to reader0987, Calliope's Scribe, NekoAria14, smilin steph, ComprehensiveJellyfish, Idol-Sequence, dbarrietta, StarReader2009, and CarmesiQuill24452 for favoriting
Thanks to Satine Gold, Calliope's Scribe, kankanamie123, kittyitty, NekaAria14, DustyRabbit, ComprehensiveJellyfish, zenstarrflower, Idol-Sequence, Lhannie, dbarrietta, Isabelnecessaryonabicycle, meggieXx, and CarmesiQuill24452 for following