Notes:
(Remember Janus Cars in the show? The fake your own death company disguising as a rental car company? Janus is the god of two faces...we see both of Sherlock's here)
{I see that you are back in London. Good result, I hope? -Mycroft H.}
Sherlock hears his Blackberry chime and takes it out, rolling his eyes as he grabs a cab from the airport.
{That is creepy, you know. Privacy is a paramount right, Mycroft. But yes. Frank Hudson will be executed. I was hoping that though it's in America since he's a British citizen as well that you could speed up the process? You know how long criminals rot on death row in the States. Too long. -SH}
{I don't see how I will have much pull in Florida, but I'll see what I can do. -Mycroft H.}
{Really? What's the catch? I was expecting you to mull over it like everything else. -SH}
{No catch. -Mycroft H.}
{Ahhhhh, I see. -SH}
{What? -Mycroft H.}
{You're only helping me to please Mummy. She is Mrs. H's good friend. I assume she knows all about it with the way those two talk. She'll be very pleased with me for helping her gather evidence, so you want in on the good son praise. I do suppose it's been a while since you've done something praise-worthy -SH}
Sherlock chuckles to himself, as he can nearly hear Mycroft's angry scoff from behind the screen as he doesn't reply. The cab stops at his run-down flat and he sighs. The hotel he was staying at had far better accommodations, and nothing leaked. Not to mention the Landlord hated Sherlock just as much as Sherlock hated him. Ah well, at least he is back in his home city.
He grabs his suitcase from the truck and pays the cabbie, hauling it into his flat. He flops it onto his bed and unpacks, throwing on some laundry before shuffling into the kitchen. He knows he has no food, or at least none that would still be good, but he can't help but open the refrigerator anyway. Emptiness stares back at him and he groans. Grabbing his wallet, he remembers that he has a nice hefty check from Mrs. Hudson for his services.
.
.
Sherlock eats hungrily at the fish and chip shop that is a block from his home. They have very good comfort food, and admittedly, he goes there more often than not for food. His skills don't include cooking, albeit for microwaveable meals. As he munches on the last of his remaining chips, he hears a ruckus in the kitchen. The owner is an elderly man, Mr. Harlow, who has run this business for the last fifty or so years, he's a kind person who will always give Sherlock extra portions when he sees his loyal customer come in the door.
It was pretty quiet in the restaurant, being before the dinner time rush, so Sherlock slips out of his seat and sneaks into the kitchen to see what the crashing noise was. Usually he isn't prone to concern, but he has a soft spot in his heart for this old man. Peeking around the corner, he sees the elderly man and his daughter, who will sometimes help out as a waitress, looking distressed. There are ingredients on the floor from where some rotted shelving had been. His daughter, Alina notices him by the door and jumps a bit.
"Oh! Sherlock Holmes, shouldn't you be eating?"
He smiles softly and nods. "Yes, I have. I was quite hungry after my trip. It was delicious. I heard a crash and thought I'd see if I could help."
"That's very kind of you. Unfortunately, it's just some old shelving. We had gotten replacements because we noticed how unstable these were but the repairman we use is fully booked until next week. I thought maybe these would hold another week but as you can see, no such luck. I'd have no problem putting them up, but I'm so short I'd need a ladder, which we also don't have."
Sherlock nods politely at her. "Where are the planks and the mounts?"
Alina looks a bit confused. "In the back room, why?"
"I'm tall enough, I can help you put up the new shelves."
Mr. Harlow looks up at him, gratefulness in his shining eyes. "Oh, would you!? You're such a good young man! I knew I liked you, that's why I always give you a bit extra", he winks happily.
Sherlock chuckles lightly. "It would be the least I could do. Now. Lead me to the supplies and the power drill", he smirks.
.
.
Molly sniffles as she snaps off her gloves and tosses them, returning the small-sized body to the fridge compartment. Autopsies on children were the absolute worst thing she ever had to do, even worse than murders. She can't help the tears that fall down her face and she lets them, nobody around to see it. Walking back to her office, which joins the morgue and the lab, she clanks the clipboard down on the desk and lets out a shuddering sigh, signing off on her findings before taking the sheet off the board and placing it in the retrieval basket for Dr. Stamford to review.
Running a hand through the loose hairs that had come undone from her ponytail, she grabs her phone, but like usual there are no messages. She already knows there is nobody in the world that would need her, but she can't help but check to see if maybe someone was thinking of her. Usually, it's Meena, but she has been so busy lately with her new life in the States that Molly can't help but feel alone. Biting on her lower lip, she slips her phone into her pocket, and grabs her wallet from her desk, hoping the café has something good they are serving for lunch.
On her way out of her office, she slams into another person. Gasping, she steps back and begins to apologize when she realizes it's Sherlock. He looks cold and domineering.
"Sh-Sherlock...I-I'm sorry...umm you're home."
Sherlock looks down at the mousy woman who had just run into him. Granted, he had been standing in front of her outer office door for a few minutes, pondering if he should announce his homecoming since he was supposed to be a new man, not a weak one; not anymore. He will only allow himself to feel in front of people that don't matter, and since Molly is a part of his job that won't be going away any time soon, he will just have to live with it.
"Yes."
"R-Right...um...so uh, why are you here?"
"Just letting you and Mike know that I'm back from Florida. The case was a success."
"Yeah? It had to do with that nice Mrs. Hudson down at Speedy's right?"
"Yes, she happens to be my mother's friend. Heard about my new endeavors and asked for my assistance in getting her husband executed."
Molly gapes a bit before clearing her throat. "Oh..."
"He was running a drug cartel and his actions ended up getting her two sons murdered while they slept. Gunshots to the head."
Molly can feel her eyes well with tears again, thinking of the little girl she had just done an autopsy on. Her mother was targeted for stealing drugs and the little girl got caught in the crossfire; a single gunshot to the chest. Her father is a good man and he was absolutely beside himself, as he had been trying to get custody of her.
Sherlock shifts a bit uncomfortably as he notices her begin to cry a little.
"S-Sorry", she mutters wiping her eyes. "That's horribly tragic. Reminded me of the little girl I just did an autopsy on. Slightly similar situation. One good parent, one bad parent...I know how that is", she whispers the last part, barely audibly.
Notes:
Hehehe "The owner always gives me extra portions" "Did you get him off a murder charge?" "Nope, helped him put up some shelves." :-P