"Dr. Hooper." A deep voice says from the echoing entrance of the chilled room. The Morgue.
"Holmes." She deepens her voice, which is still very much feminine. Molly looks up at him, dressed in her male disguise, Martin. God she wished she could just rip the damn mustache off. He hangs up his hat and strides over, ever so cocky and knowing, feasting his eyes upon her shorter form.
"I need to see the body of Maximillian Porter immediately."
"The burn victim? Why? Was it murder and not an accident? Arson?"
"You ask too many questions." He rolls his eyes. "But yes. The fire was most definitely set by a third party, and no, not his wife."
"Right, well his body is second in the row. I've yet to do the autopsy, as I have one before him."
Holmes nods, and squints his eyes a bit, still gazing upon her disguised form. "Mhh."
"What?" she snaps a bit, having been terrified for ages since knowing he knew of her true identity and that she was involved in the suffragette movement. If he had a sudden desire to be a prick, he could easily out her to the entire medical community and her license and reputation would be stripped. She would be left with absolutely nothing of her own with just a few words from his man's lips. Her life's work would be gone.
"Oh, just thinking maybe you need a shave" he exclaims as he motions to her lip, then smirks devilishly.
Molly grimaces at him and give him a glare; oh, if looks could kill. He's such a sod, teasing her about her exploits as Martin, especially where anyone could hear him. Sherlock Holmes will never understand the need for this, having a man's acceptance in society while the women wait on them hand and foot, having not even a say in what goes on in their own communities, being expected to be human incubators and little else, under the assumption that their brains cannot possibly function as well or as bright as a man's. He will never experience the disparaging of womenkind firsthand; he is just a mere witness who doesn't have to handle the consequence of it.
Holmes' face softens a bit, realizing the joke may have been offensive to her intelligence, going by the situation she is living firsthand. He strolls over to the Porter corpse and begins his work.
Hooper begins the autopsy on the next corpse on her roster, skillfully and expertly cutting and examining the organs. Sherlock glances up, studying her work for more than just a moment, captured by the elegance in her hands and the care she takes with the body. Molly feels a pair of eyes fixed upon her and raises her gaze, unexpectedly meeting his. Their eyes sparkle with brilliance and knowledge into each other's, and just for a moment Dr. Hooper thinks she sees respect and admiration in his gorgeous kaleidoscope irises. Holmes tears his vision away from hers as her cheeks begin to flush. She internally scolds herself for this, as she cannot act or seem female in the public eye, regardless of her completely secret and hidden fondness for the git. As tough as she is on him in HER morgue, she wishes that she could be herself some days. Being an authoritarian to the famous Sherlock Holmes is entertaining and exhilarating, but having him see the true her would be tantalizing. Only a moment of that very scenario was ever had, when he discovered that she and Mary and other women in town were enacting revenge upon the male abusers, spousal killers and belittlers of the female sex. However, they were in an extremely dimly lit underground cavern where the suffragette meetings were often held in secret. That was the moment the dynamic shifted between them from petulance and loathing to respect and mutual admiration for their realm of career.
Holmes shifts his attention back to the corpse and a small smile forms across his cupid's bow lips. There was no doubt in his mind that Hooper was blushing. He knew of her miniscule "crush" on him, but maybe it was more than that. Other than using that to his advantage in getting body parts and forensics information, he hates to admit that he may just have a soft fondness for the woman behind the mustache as well. Damn his cold heart becoming warmed to her unending support and scoldings when needed, to her elegant hands and her compassion towards families of the murder victims he solves. This new feeling in his chest makes him uneasy and his body feels as if it is betraying him, wanting to sneak peeks at her as she worked, thinking up the real vision of her in his head with her corset, skirt, and best of all, no mustache, just uncovered feminine pink lips. "Sod it Holmes, focus" he growls under his breath. He gathers the rest of the information that he needs for the arson murder case and then saunters over to the coat rack placing his hat back on his head and tipping it towards her before exiting.
Hooper smiles slightly and returns to her autopsy, her shoulders relaxing at finally being alone and unguarded for the moment.
Unlocking the door to her little home, Molly Hooper rushes inside and quickly locks the door behind her, letting out a sigh of relief. She brings her hand up and squeezes her eyes closed, ripping off Martin's mustache with a small groan. You would think that she would be used to that by now but no, it hurts every day. Just a small price to pay for the life that she wants. She goes to the kitchen and puts her tea kettle on before going to her cozy bedroom, taking her wig off and letting her long brunette locks down. She then strips off the manly clothing and slips her silky rose-colored nightie onto her achy body with a content sigh. She hangs her "uniform" up neatly for the next day and sits on the plush bench of her vanity, looking into the mirror at her tired eyes and her wavy feminine hair. She smiles a bit at her ability to fool all of the men in town, including Holmes' friend Inspector Lestrade and her mind wanders back to Holmes as she begins to pulls her hair over her left shoulder and braid it for bed. Once she is finished, she puts just a dab of perfume behind her ears to freshen herself, and returns to her tea kettle.
Molly gently takes out her favorite teacup, gifted to her from her father when he was alive. He always knew his daughter was special and brilliant, and unlike most men, encouraged her to do anything that made her happy, and that she had a well-honed ability to do, regardless of her gender. He was a very progressive man for his time, having been scolded by all the neighbors when she was young about how he raised her fearless and freer than the average girl. He was a single father, her mother having died in childbirth from complications, but refused to have her around only nannies, taking his responsibility as her parent as gospel. As a surgeon, he taught her not only to read and write, but all about medicine and surgery. She remembers being a little girl and reading his medical texts, completely enthralled with the human body. Molly smiles at the memories and strokes the delicate roses on the teacup before pouring the water and drenching the teabag within.
As her body settles into her plush settee, she closes her eyes, soaking up the silence and enjoying every moment of being her unadulterated self, sipping at her hot and comforting tea. Moments pass and suddenly there is a knock at her door. She jumps out of her skin, not expecting any visitors, and certainly not when she is supposed to be "Martin". Panicking she decides to claim herself as his wife and cautiously moves towards the wooden door. "Whom, may I ask is here?" she shouts.
"Holmes."
Molly groans. "Be careful what you wish for, eh Molly?" she mutters to herself and opens the door a crack. His tall figure and gorgeous eyes stare back at her, widening a bit. He clearly was not expecting her to already be in bed clothes at this hour of the evening. Oh well. Opening the door wide enough to let him through she suddenly feels very shy and exposed, her cheeks flushing red.
"A-apologies, Doctor Hooper."
Did Sherlock Holmes just stutter? He looks very out of his depth and uncomfortable suddenly, not the same rude, arrogant bastard that walks into her morgue most days. As thoughts swirls through her head she realizes that he is still staring at her. Oh Lord, are his eyes dilated?
"I wanted to ask for some medical insight. You are the…person which whom I trust for that in truth." He says slowly, his voice octaves deeper, as if that were even possible, and so velvety smooth it would send a shiver down any woman's spine.
She can't help but shiver, knowing that he was about to say man, then correcting himself before it left his lips. "Yes, well, I'm flattered, Mr. Holmes. Care to sit?" she motions to her settee and he accepts, of course sitting himself directly on HER side. Molly sits opposite him on the other cushion.
Sherlock blinks a few times, the sight of her taking him by surprise. Maybe more. Shock was more like it, however of course she removes the disguise at home; that would be a sound analysis to make even without proof. In his defense, her girlish perfume was extremely distracting, however alluring to his senses. "It's regarding the Porter case. Did you find anything interesting in the autopsy once you had gotten around to it? I wouldn't usually make a house call, but I need to know as soon as possible."
"The burn marks were a bit odd, as you had seen. Other than that there was one other thing that seemed odd to me. His stomach was empty, which means for a man of wealth and stature, he had not eaten in at least two days. Also, when I dissected his lungs, I found not only large amounts of smoke, but remnants of charred hay." There didn't seem to be anything medically wrong with him before his untimely demise."
"Interesting." His eyes glimmer and he steeples his pale, slender hands under his chin in classic fashion. The room falls silent and she watches him, intrigued. After a few beats, he rises from the settee. "Thank You." he murmurs and heads for the door then stops in his tracks, spinning on his heels to face her yet again. Molly rises to see him out. Holmes takes a few slow steps toward her until he is looming over her figure. "I mean it. Thank you. For all you do for me and for the city. I will never understand why the commonwealth feels the need to belittle and disparage our fairer, yet equal counterparts. Women carry this world forward and I truly believe that. The scientific anatomy is extremely simple and only slightly varies from a man's; in fact, the ability to bear children is a ruthless yet underappreciated power of the female, which takes more work and pain than an average man will feel laboring at work for a lifetime. The brain is the same in most humans, and anyone has the ability to make theirs spectacular if they see to their studies. Women have the innate ability to be just as, if not more brilliant than the average man if they are allowed to study. They go through more struggle in the world than they already do, due to failing societal norms which must be abolished. Everyone should be able to expand their knowledge and it is appalling to me that some think it should not be a basic right. I cannot singlehandedly change the world, Miss Hooper, but I hope one day the wrongs of today will right themselves for all of humankind to enjoy a very limited lifespan in ways they see fit as an individual. What you are doing is not only brave, but necessary. Not only that, but I hope you will be the woman to show this city that change should be imminent and swift. However, the consequences and the dangers of unknown reactions may not turn out how you like, and for that I completely understand if you do not come forward. I admire your strength and your dedication to the craft all the same."
Molly's eyes brim with soft tears at his words as she gazes up at him. "Your words touch me more than you will ever know, Mr. Holmes. I know our dynamic in the morgue must be steadfast as it would with two men, however, outside that building I will always admire your skill and way of thinking. You are wise beyond the times."
Sherlock smiles handsomely down at her. "This may be startling to you, and I will accept your choice in the matter, but it has come to my attention through my companion Watson that I am growing older and should begin the search for a mate if I have ever thought even for a moment of carrying on my legacy. Though I have not given it a thought since becoming more known in the public eye, he does have valid reasoning. Now that I've known your true identity for quite some time, I must say that I am extremely relieved that your courting of Sir Thomas did not result in any nuptials. He was much too stupid for a woman of your dignity and brilliance. As a brilliant mind myself, I would need a wife who could compare to me, as well as ground me on my darkest days and out of my worst whims. If there is ever a woman in the world to successfully scold me on my misbehaving, it would be you Doctor Hooper. I know you may not have ever seen yourself as a wife, but I can assure you I do not seek to change or domesticate you in any sort of negative way. You will have choices and free thought, as your opinions matter to me. I am not a traditional man in any sense of the word as you may very well know."
Hooper stands slack-jaw in front of the dapper detective in the odd deerstalker hat. His words hit her hard as the realization of what he is asking sets into her skin and through her nerves. Oh, he was an irritating bastard, but the open-minded, charming type. Molly already knew in her heart what the answer was, a million times over but her lips would not move in the moment. Just then Holmes enchantingly searched her eyes for her answer then leaned down ever so slowly, pressing his soft cushiony lips to hers. Her mind whirls miles a minute but she responds eagerly, carefully draping her arms upon his shoulders and returning the lovely, yet oh so tender kiss. Being in his arms felt like absolute heaven.
Sherlock held the small woman to him lightly as he kissed her for the first time. His lips tingle with excitement as his tongue dances with hers, the kiss becoming something of true passion. By the time they part, their heavy breaths intermingle and her eyes are very much dilated as he looks into her warm cocoa-like irises. "I may be an impossible man, a true sod, an utter git, a complete bastard some days. But I know you can be the woman, and man to keep me right." He chuckles gently. "I know that you mean something to me that I have never felt within myself in all my years. I never believed in love until I took the time to acknowledge you, to see you, to work with you. I would be destroyed by your rejection, as I see no other woman who could ever come close to comparing to your beauty, charm, strength, intellectual prowess, or chemistry. No other woman who could handle my crazy musings or my untimely conduct."
"Sherlock Holmes, you need to ask the question before I could even think about accepting or rejecting, you git" she beams up at him. "So get the hell on with it."
Holmes smirks at her. "Margaret, Molly, Martin, Louise Hooper…" he begins, laughing a little bit. "Will you do me the utmost of honors of becoming my wife?"
Molly laughs a bit as he tosses out her full name, nickname, and alternate work name in order to deplete any uncertainty, followed by her middle and surname. "William Sherlock Scott Holmes…" she begins, smirking up at him and teasingly stroking his lapels, as he gapes at the fact she knows his full name. "I accept your proposal." He grins mischievously and they intertwine themselves once again in a sultry kiss.
When they pull back he muses "How did you know my full name?"
"Oh, I have my ways of getting my hands on records that I need. It wasn't too hard to get your birth certificate. I told them it was for a body. D'you think anyone would believe you're a William?" she smirks teasingly.
"Ooh you minx!" They laugh together for a moment and he takes her hand. "I know I don't have a proper ring for you at the moment, but I do have one. It was my mother's. If you don't like it we can get another. It's a ruby between two diamonds."
"I'm positive it's beautiful, Sherlock." Molly smiles brightly, excitement and fervor in her words and manner.
Sherlock nods and draws her close to him. "Not as beautiful as you, future Doctor Holmes. Just don't expect any kisses with that mustache on your face."
Molly laughs at the thought. "Oh Lord, can you imagine how people would talk about you then? They would strike you down!"
"That they would, so I expect we will keep ourselves strictly professional during the working day. I'll always be awaiting the moment you walk through the door in the evening and become yourself, if ever I am unoccupied as well."
"I have a feeling this will be a very pleasurable arrangement Mr. Holmes."
"Pleasurable indeed Doctor Hooper" he smirks.
"I will await the very day with bated breath, and I'll surely be one of the only woman of whom will feel free and not bound in a marriage. You are quite the man, Holmes."
He winks at her lovingly. "As much as you are quite the woman, Hooper."