{The Blog of Doctor Molly Hooper – December 29, 2008
Wow…where to start? Today was a decent day in the morgue, as any other day, except with one critical change. I met HIM. HIM, being Mr. Sherlock Holmes. A young man who is shadowing Detective Inspector Lestrade, in the hopes of creating his own consultive franchise. He called himself a consulting detective. Apparently, he's the only one in the world; invented the title himself. When the police can't solve something, people will consult him. Oh! Did I mention that he is perfectly able to do this because he's a genius? Like, a real-life genius. Not quite like Einstein, but extremely intelligent. He can read a crime scene or a dead body the way one can read a billboard. Easily, without any extra effort. It's like their stories flow through him, and let me tell you, it's totally invigorating to witness. The way he rattles off the details in his deliciously deep, velvety voice. I swear, just hearing his voice nearly makes me shudder. He is the sexiest, most handsome man that I have ever laid eyes on.
I swore to myself that I would no longer fall for self-destructive men, especially after the ordeal with Jacob. I swore it, but this Sherlock Holmes walked in the room and metaphorically took my heart in his fist with one look. I'm not sure his presence will ever let me go, as he struck me in ways I have never felt before in my life. I do admit this sounds extremely pathetic. Can you believe he made me stutter!? I haven't stuttered since public speaking class first year of Uni! But around this brilliantly delicious man I just become a complete puddle, and I can't even help it. I hate when I don't have control of myself, and he makes me absolutely lose control just by walking into the room. Once. I have met him ONCE and he has already done this to me.
I can't get him out of my head. I just cannot get him out of my head. You all should see him. He's…he's like a Greek god. Jesus...I'm blushing as I'm writing this. He has the smoothest, most flawless porcelain skin, dark almost black curls that I had to stop myself from running my fingers through since they look light as feathers, and his eyes….oh…those EYES. How can I even describe them? They are like the deepest depths of the ocean. They're so striking! Like a deep aquamarine with hues of green and gold. You can absolutely drown in them. Hell, if I drowned in them, I'd die a happy woman.
Like I said…he's the most gorgeous man on the face of the planet. And now he'll be coming around to use the morgue and the lab as a resource! I don't know whether to be angry at the universe or take this as the biggest gift I have ever received in my life. I think its both a blessing and a curse. Of course I would like to see him as much as possible, but I don't think I will get too much done for work if I am reduced to a blathering mess every time he is around!
The one good thing is that he seems pretty stoic. It's a bit hard to read him, but I didn't do too badly. I believe I correctly read him, but he didn't exactly admit that I was correct. That part about staying away from self-destructive men? Well…this Greek god just happens to be a former addict. I applaud my extensive knowledge of the human body and its responses for figuring that out on my own. His hands were trembling quite so, and I could just see from the look in his eyes that he was trying a bit too hard to come off as arrogant for some reason. He was. Slightly arrogant, that is. However, he just had a look in his eye of brokenness. I don't think he knew that I saw his moment of weakness. But I told him that if he ever needed someone to talk to, he could talk to me. I know, quite bold of me, but for a split second I forgot my nervousness and realized that he is not, in fact, a Greek god, but a human man who has demons of his own as well.
x x x Molly }
{ The Digital Journal of Sherlock Holmes – December 29, 2008
Well…where to start? Today's case was mind numbingly simple, yet even Lestrade couldn't seem to piece the story together. To be fair to him, I suppose filling in the blanks isn't exactly his strong suit, he is too used to only working with scenes that have zero missing evidence. Where is the fun in that if there is no real mystery to solve? I thrive off of the adrenaline of solving what seems to be unsolvable to New Scotland Yard. I have known Lestrade for three years now, and while I am admittedly grateful for all the support he has given me (even if I would never say that out loud), I am looking forward to venturing out of his shadow. Pun intended.
Lestrade finally brought me to Bart's morgue today, and I met the cadaver girl he's always talking to me about. I have told him multiple times that I am not interested in forming or getting into a relationship with anyone, but he's a simple and ordinary man, so he just doesn't get it. My mind craves work, if not drugs, and a relationship would probably make me want to shoot myself in the face with the level of closeness and touchy-feely vibes of one. Too emotional and intimate for me. No thank you.
I must say however, that Doctor Hooper was certainly impressive in her own right. She certainly knows her way around a cadaver, and I can definitely see why Doctor Stamford regards her as his best pathologist, despite being young and new at her job. She is exquisitely brilliant at it, and the way she handles the deceased with such intrinsic care is actually quite invigorating to watch. I don't believe I have had the good fortune of meeting a woman as brilliant as her before.
The thing about Molly…that's Dr. Hooper's first name…is that despite being brilliant and confident while speaking in a professional manner, she is absolutely out of her element in the socialization department. Not once did she trip over her words when describing the autopsy to us, but the moment that she had to speak to me alone, she kept stuttering. Maybe it's a nervous impediment, but I'm not exactly sure why she would be so nervous. I know I can be an arrogant ass, but I was, as I promised Lestrade, toned- down, and I don't thing I said anything rude to her.
In all honesty, I don't think I could have been totally rude to her even if I wanted to today. As easily as I deduced the dead man on the slab, this Doctor Molly Hooper deduced me. I must say I was in so much shock, I did not know how to accurately respond so…I didn't. I don't believe that anyone else has ever been able to read me, (except Mycroft, ugh), so of course I was taken aback. She's this fragile looking, petite, little, woman, that just happens to have quite an impressively extensive knowledge of the human body, death, chemistry, and forensics as I do. Not only did she read me accurately, but she was cute while doing so! The nerve! She even told me that I could come to her if I needed to /talk/. Why would I need to exploit my…*feelings* to anyone? Gross.
…It took me a few minutes, but I just processed that I typed the word "cute" in regard to a certain pathologist. Okay, so I may be mostly a brain, but as a begrudging human being, I /can/ still notice when someone is attractive. It does not mean that I personally am attracted to her, it just means that I can admit that she is attractive in general. I'm sure there are many men who have fallen for her perfectly curved lips, or her big, brown, doe eyes, or what looks to be healthy chestnut auburn tresses (if it weren't in a ponytail to avoid a brush with formaldehyde), or even the way the apples of her cheeks flush slightly for certain things. Not to mention the way her voice is naturally melodic and soothing. Yes, I am sure many men are vying for her attention, as they should. She is quite a woman, and quite a pathologist too. I already have an immense amount of respect for her, and for her work. Relationships are just not my area, and never will be. Maybe if I were any other man, possibly. But alas, that's just not for me.
SH }