On the way to the Fitzgeralds' estate, Sherlock explained to her what he had meant earlier.
"Mrs Daly did not die of a heart attack. Nor did she drown. It appears that she died from an overdose of insulin injected into her toe. It was murder."
"Hm, just wondering who had the opportunity to do this and what their motive was?" Molly then asked, thinking.
"That's what we have to find out, Molly. We should start with today's hosts. We just have to wait for the right moment. Your job will be to get into conversation with as many people as possible and learn more about the Fitzgeralds. Lies, secrets, intrigue. Anything that might be useful and in the meantime I'll take a closer look around their private rooms," he then explained.
"All right" said Molly.
"But what if the killer strikes again today?" she then asked. There was fear in her voice.
"Oh, he certainly will," he just grinned.
'Oh Sherlock, if you only knew who his next victim will be' she thought. A shiver ran down her back and unconsciously her grip on Sherlock's arm grew stronger and she snuggled a little closer to him.
Sherlock didn't react but just smiled into himself.
A short time later they were standing in front of the Fitzgeralds' large estate.
It was a huge, magnificent building with columns at the entrance and was nestled amidst lush greenery and trees. You would think it was the largest building in Dunmore, except Dunmore Castle of course.
As they slowly approached the front door, Molly felt that she was starting to get quite excited. Sherlock also felt her nervousness building up. Soothingly, he put his hand on Molly's and squeezed it gently.
"Ready?" he then asked.
Molly looked up at him and briefly thought about whether she should tell him about the last message now. She was just about to start talking when suddenly the front door opened and an elderly gentleman in a black suit and bow tie greeted her and told her to come in.
Sherlock smiled slightly at her and then gently pulled her along.
Molly froze in awe at what was behind the front door. They were now standing in a large room from which two spiral staircases led up. In the middle, a huge chandelier hung from the ceiling. The actual party took place in an adjoining room, which, however, could not follow the entrance hall in anything. There was a large area where the guests cavorted and chatted. Behind it, the buffet and the bar were located on meter-long tables. Seating was arranged in the front corner. And on the side, Molly could see a large and wide door that probably led to the terrace. She was simply impressed, but wasn't really surprised by the Fitzgeralds' appearance.
Sherlock watched Molly the whole time and had to smile slightly when he noticed her reaction.
"Ah Ms. Hooper. I'm glad you could come" they suddenly heard a voice come to them. It was Claire Fitzgerald.
"And who is this handsome gentleman at your side?" she then asked, and gave Sherlock a sharp look.
'Oh no. I completely forgot to ask what his identity would be. What am I going to say now?' Molly thought, feeling the excitement rise up again. But before she could say anything, Sherlock replied. Molly breathed a sigh of relief.
"My name is William Fitzpatrick. Pleased to meet you, Madam" replied Sherlock and greeted her with a small kiss on the hand.
Mrs. Fitzgerald was delighted with his greeting. Molly looked at him in surprise. Of course she knew he was a man who brought decency, a certain elegance and charm, but that he could be so charming was a surprise to her too.
Claire giggled a little.
"Delighted Mr. Fitzpatrick. Say, are you by any chance related to the Fitzpatricks from Newcastle?" she then asked.
"No Madam. At least not that I know of" he then replied and put on a fake smile.
Molly watched the play the whole time with a surprised expression on her face. And again, as she had done many times before, she wondered:
'What was wrong with him? He is so different.'
"Now Ms. Hooper. You have a very charming gentleman at your side. May I ask how you know each other?" Mrs. Fitzgerald then asked her curiously.
But again, luckily for her, Sherlock was faster. Molly was clearly no improvisation genius.
"Molly and I met and fell in love at work" he replied, gently putting his arm around her waist at the same time. It almost seemed as if he wanted to show that she would belong to him.
Molly immediately got big eyes and her heart jumped when she felt his touch. She just smiled embarrassed and then carefully and with slightly shaky fingers put her hand on his, resting on her waist.
'If he wants to play my boyfriend, he should do it properly. And who knows when I'll have the chance again,' she thought and snuggled a little closer to him.
Mrs. Fitzgerald put on a condescending expression as she saw the two of them before her.
"Well then. I hope you're both enjoying yourselves tonight,' she said, turning away from them and disappearing.
Molly turned to Sherlock and looked at him questioningly but with a slight grin on her face.
"So, William then? Do you always use your other first names for camouflage?"
Sherlock looked at her in surprise. How could she have known that? And as if Molly could read his mind, she kept talking.
"I forged your death certificate that day, remember?"
Of course, he remembered now. Molly needed his full name to make it look real.
''But you know Fitzpatrick is a typical Irish name," she continued.
"Well, I thought it would best fit my identity. Or why else do you think I said we met at work?" he then explained and smiled at her.
"But while we're on the subject, what's wrong with you, Molly? I noticed how nervous you were, and I'm sure the others will soon realise that it's all fake. Don't be so uptight"
'But of course you know how to behave in a real relationship, don't you?' she thought.
She was a little angry and couldn't believe what she had just heard from him. She, tense? And this is what Sherlock Holmes of all people says, who has never had a real relationship in his life, let alone keeps people at an emotional distance?
If only he knew how hard all this is for her here. How hard it is to be near him, to feel his touch and to know that nothing, really none of it is real.
"O... okay," she stammered. "And what do you suggest I should do?" she then asked him.
"Well, first of all, you shouldn't seem so nervous. We need to show people that we are a happy couple. Why don't you just behave as you did towards your former fiancé? I'm going to get us something to drink first. Maybe you'll thaw out a bit more," he said and immediately disappeared in the direction of the bar.
Sherlock knew he wasn't exactly sensitive when he called her uptight. But under no circumstances could he risk blowing their cover before they caught the killer. And not only that. Sherlock had thought about seeing this kind of little act as a kind of experiment. After all, he was not yet sure whether and how he should confess his feelings to her. And she was now living here in Ireland. He would travel back to London after they had solved the case, and so, probably never see her again. He just had to know what it might feel like to be with her. But in order to do that, he had to make her fully commit to it.