Chapter 4

I had a guest review suggest that I up the rating to T after the nudity in last chapter, I had to agree because well, better safe than sorry. So I want to apologize if I caught anyone off guard. Thank you guest!

The pink of dawn was just appearing as Molly awoke and began to prepare for the day. She splashed cold water on her face as she washed up, letting the coolness sink into and awaken her weary dry skin. It did little to help with the bone deep exhaustion she felt, but it was a start. Her body was tired enough, that was true but her mind and her panicked thoughts of where she may go after she was dismissed left her lying awake more hours than resting.

Rubbing the skin dry she looked up at the light just beginning to fill the sky. Another day was dawning. A new day, another chance to show her abilities. Ten days had already passed since Holmes's initial decree of her trial period and Molly felt more and more each day that her departure from Baker Street was unavoidably immanent. Particularly, after the incident that occurred two mornings past. But till her time was finished she determined to worked hard, to do her best at all she did. Not that it pleased him any more. No, everything was done the wrong way according to the so called Master of the house.

To Sherlock Holmes her every action was a nuisance. Dusting misplaced things, the laundry destroyed his so called 'potential evidence'. The meals she'd prepared were either bland or too salty for his taste, although the man ate with such irregularity as to make it nearly impossible to learn his tastes. Besides, she understood that the others found them perfectly sound and requested she keep cooking.

It also seemed that as much as she wished to stay out of Sherlock Holmes way, the more she would always find occasions several times a day when she felt his strange eyes would be watching her yet, he would never speak to her; nor look directly at her or acknowledged her directly nor had he since the after the shaving 'incident'. Those complaints he continued to have were never addressed to her directly, merely overheard or passed on, usually from Archie. Aunt was surely receiving them as well, but was refusing to pass them on Molly had no doubt. After all, what difference would it make? He wanted nothing to do with her. Nor was it proper that should. Particularly not after that moment while shaving him... pausing as a familiar thrill went over again. The way his crystalline eyes had looked after that brush on his velvety lip (why, oh why could she not forget those details! Were that she could. Instead she'd attempted to banish them far far away from her thoughts) But she still had two days and Molly refused to not give it her all.

Bending down she bent to lace her work boots. It was time to face the day, after all.

Later that morning, Molly was tending to the fireplace in the sitting room as per her Aunt's instructions, when she found an unexpected surprise in the coal bin. She stood up, apron covered in ashes and coal dust as she lifted one of the mysterious lumps that had fallen out between her fingers, not sure what she was looking at. All of the objects were a half of a dozen sticks all the same length. Curious. Using the edge of her cloth she wiped at it, discovering it was a cigar. A finely made one at that. Ruined now by the coal dust. Oh Bother!

"That would be his newest cigar hiding spot." Came a voice from behind her.

"Ah!" She startled, dropping the cigar and it rolled, leaving a trail of ashes on the carpet. Blast it, she silently cursed. The voice behind her chuckled good naturedly. "You have to be prepared for the unexpected in this household, Molly."

"Yes sir. I didn't know... There was already coal before I began. But, I apologize for not having looked first. They are as good as ruined now." Lamented Molly, bending to collect them all now to be disposed.

"Yes, well that was a rubbish place to store them. Told Holmes as much too." He chuckled softly. "That's why I refilled the bin with extra ash myself. He doesn't need them, he's quit the substance. Again. No real harm done." The man grinned cheekily and gave her a conspiratorial wink.

"Ah. Well then." Molly stiffened at the gesture, the loss of the cigars would surely after all be blamed on her and not the good Doctor. "Is there anything I can get for you, Doctor Watson?" Molly spoke a bit more bristly than she meant as she stood, wiping her hands on her apron, leaving it extra sooty. Double blast!

"No, no thank you. I just popped in looking for my book that I left in here last night." Molly nodded, turned her attention back to the mess on the floor behind her he strode over to what seemed to be thought of as 'his' chair and picked up the volume before sitting down and pretending to read. Molly knew that he was in fact only there to study her. A fact confirmed when he spoke a moment later. "And just how are you this fine morning, Molly?" Doctor Watson asked, flipping a page.

"Well enough, sir." Molly answered, tensing but not looking back at him as she dusted up the coal from the rug.

"I've been meaning to tell you that I am still quite impressed with the work you've done here over the past weeks. You do show yourself to be a hard working, useful sort of maid. I will be happy to write you a reference when..."

"When I am dismissed," Molly finished quickly, sitting back on her heels to look at him."Is it really that doubtful that I'll be asked to stay on, sir?"

He smiled a small sad half smile at her. One that Molly imagined he used in his patients when he had to deliver less than good news to patients. "I wish I could give you some hope, but I'm afraid he is a very determined man. Unless you have some rare, uncommon, hidden skill as a maid that we have never seen before, something tremendously, tremendously useful?" Molly shook her head in the negative, "I thought not. Well than in that case, I'd advise you to prepare yourself to seek another position." The doctor was certainly well practiced at delivering bad news. His tone was kind, but couldn't change the fact that news was still bitter none the less. "But surely you have some knowledge? A trade or skill, the shaving was one thing, perhaps you have something else?Anything? Something he might find even remotely useful to him? Perhaps then we-"

"Nothing. Nothing out of the...normal." She lied. The good doctor studied her as if he sensed that she had lied before he stood again to go.

"Well like I said, I wouldn't worry too much about your future, Molly. You are a hard worker and have an admirable work ethic. And I myself will give you a glowing letter of recommendation." He patted her shoulder, typical medical comforting. "Well I'm off to loan this volume to a friend. I'll be home for supper, should anyone call in looking for me."

He slipped back out and Molly looked at the mess of her apron and floor. What a mess. All of it. An utter mess. It was soiled now, much like her hopes. Sighing, she set to finishing her task before taking the used ashes down to empty them and carry up more coal.

When she returned to the lounge she found the adjoining study was now occupied by the one person she'd rather not see at that, or any moment. Mr Sherlock Holmes, finely outfitted in a dark brown morning suit, rifling through piles of papers on his desk; murmuring and groaning to himself.

As much as she wished to slip unnoticed out of the room, Molly girded herself and set to do what her position required of her. "Is there anything I can help you with, Mr. Holmes?"

The bent over man virtually snarled out a curt "no" before he began throwing books over his shoulder with absolutely no regard for where they landed as was evident when he hit the vase on the shelf with one particularly heavy volume, shattering it instantly. Holmes gave not even a slight sign of even having heard it. Molly however cried out softly, rushing to it to see if it might be repairable.

"For god's sake, leave it will you! It matters not to me, you silly, stupid woman!" He thundered to her. "Can not a man do what he wishes in the privacy of his own home? Must I be beset by ignorant fools who know no better than to worry about meaningless things!" His disgust was obvious and Molly suddenly remembered that her position was as good as terminated and thus she decided that enough was enough.

"Then tell me what it is you are looking for!" She steadied her voice as much as she could and demanded him, keeping her anger focused and controlled.

His back was turned to her, but he spun to look over his shoulder a cold smile manipulating his face even as his cold eyes narrowed in on her making her the sole target of his ire. "Oh, so you know my possessions so well do you? Have you been studying them? Is it theft on your mind or are you hoping to get in my good graces by being 'present' and 'helpful', hmm? Not that those qualities will secure you a position, but yes then, let us give it a try shall we?"

Sherlock forcibly slid a larger amount of belongings covering his tabletop crashing to the floor off the desk before settling a large, cloth wrapped bundle on it that has been sitting on the floor beside it. Molly watched amazed as he began unwrapping the dirty, stained cloth to reveal a large, no beyond large it was a "Is that a...a rat?" Molly was positive that it was too large to be simply a rat. In fact, she was almost thinking it may well be a small dog or a cat but there was no mistaking the beasts features.

Sherlock Holmes, eccentric that he was had brought a very large very dead rat into Baker Street and set it right on the center of his work table not ten feet from where he greeted genteel clients on a regular basis. He gave her a look that gave her the impression of an unspoken obviously to answer her."But... What are you doing with that in here?"

"I need to open his stomach and examine the contents of his stomach. I found him under a buffet in the room where a magistrate from Sumatra Road who has dropped dead quiet unexpectedly. I'm thinking poison is a factor. Clearly both the magistrate and rat were eating quite well together so what killed the one is likely to be what killed the other."

"But you're examining it in...here?" Molly marveled. In the middle of his private study?!

"And just where else would you have me do it then? In the kitchens beside the chicken being plucked for our dinner? In a bedchamber perhaps? Where the beast can bleed and it's blood stain the pillow?

"No, the study, I felt, as Master of the house was the best suited to work of an experimental nature. Do you not agree, Molly?" Sherlock challenged.

"Oh! No, no sir. It just-"

"Questioning me, Molly," he clucked his tongue. "Never do that to whomever your new Master will soon be. " Well that was an unneeded dig! "At least I planned to do so. However, since I can't find my blasted Haupenter there's not a Damn thing I can do with him to see what food the killer used." He groused. "Although Molly, have you seen John's medical bag? I'll use one of his scalpels since mine has been lost in this great hullabaloo..." When no answer came to him he spun around to find the room empty of the pesky maid. Well then, good riddance if she ran from his tempers she truly deserved to be gone sooner rather than later. He gave an unconcerned sigh and resumed his search.

It was only a moment later that he sounds of small feet stomping into the room announced Molly's return. She stomped over towards him till she came to a stop beside him with her hand out. "Your scalpel sir. It was in your dressing gown pocket. Right where you left it. " Sherlock turned on instinct and reached out to accept the handle of the knife That's when he stopped.

Beside him Molly was frozen still into place. This shouldn't have happened. Both of them just stood there until he breathed out an uncertain thank you. Molly released the blade and strode back across the room, seeking to resume her placing the coal in the bin Her cheeks burned with embarrassment and was glad to have a reason to turn away from him. How could she have acted so foolishly?

Touching his things was beyond presumptuous for one and certainly gave cause for her to be dismissed by the end of the day surely. Tears threatened as she wondered where she might go... Her savings were nowhere near adequate to afford a room of her own at a boarding house and she'd had no references to pursue a new position. Even Doctor Watson's promised letter would do her little good if she was sent away before he returned.

From behind her she felt him study her but he said nothing. No praise, but no censure thankfully either. Oh stupid, stupid woman! Why had she done that? Once the coal was stored she stood to stand and leave. It was then that his hand clamped on her elbow, stopping her escape. How has he made it across the room so silently without her notice!

"You handed me my knife." The voice was deep, low and incredibly warm close to her ear. A low rumble that felt loud as thunder as it swept through her. This man was dangerous. Dangerous as lightning in a storm. The thought flashed over her, warnings of men with dark intentions and purposes that would use her cruelly. He certainly handsome enough to seduce her with his fascinating eyes and his long lean strength. And still there was another darker quality to him. He exuded something exotic and tempting. Something that called to her: Adventure and a life less than ordinary.

" I..."

"You not just handed to me. No, no you handed it to me in the proper fashion as one would in a surgery theatre." He reasoned spinning her to where he could look at her fully looking her over. "Have you experience in a surgery?" His eyes were bright with... Hope? Amusement?

"No sir. I have not." Molly held her breath and tried to pull herself away but he only held tighter as he moved his hands to place her bucket down once more and then lifted her hands up in turn to inspect them.

Brows lifted he considered her "No, you say?" He twisted on hand round to examine it closer. "Yet you knew my scalpel from merely the name of its maker. It's German maker. Handed it to me in a way that more than suggests that you have a familiarity with one yourself."

"All knives are to be handed thus sir, that's just common sense. I only-" Molly reasoned fear pounding in her veins.

"Now Molly, are you attempting to lie to me? You do know just whom you are lying to; how trivial the entirety of that whole endeavor is. Do you think yourself capable of keeping anything from me when I need only see your history from one look at the small scars here on your hands? See the left hand, index finger? Note the multiple lacerations to the top of the finger?

"They prove that you have used one yourself, you need not bore me with a denial." Looking back into her panicked eyes he leant in slightly while easing her hands back down but not yet releasing her. "But you weren't telling me a lie when you said it was not a surgery that you have learned such familiarity. A doctor's practice perhaps?"

"No!" Pulling her hand as much as she could, but with very little success Molly felt tears fill her eyes. He was showing far too much interest in her when she only wished to be invisible. Oh how could she have been so idiotic! Why could she have not played dumb and let him just do as he pleased? If the truth came out then she wouldn't even have Doctor Watson's good reference to recommend herself even if he showed up before she was banished.

Sherlock's corner of his mouth lifted as he studied every inch of he once more. "Again, not a lie! So little Miss Molly, where did you gain that skill?"

"Sir, it is nothing. Please may I go the kitchen. It is past time I got to preparing luncheon-"

"Oh no. You will be staying here until I am satisfied with the answers to my questions about you. So tell me where did you come from? And just what did you say was your surname Molly?" I didn't she thought, staying silent.

"I'm making you uncomfortable. Sit." He let her hands drop and went to sit himself in his leather chair in the adjoining room casually placing one one ankle up to his opposite knee. He motioned to Doctor Watson's choice chair before he used one hand to brace his face as he watched her sharply, irritation growing as she remained standing.

"I couldn't do that sir, I'm covered with ash!"

"Sit. "He commanded again, his tone growing ever darker once more. Molly obeyed, staying as far on the edge as she could. She wasn't comfortable, but then nothing about this interview would make her thus. "Molly, you know who I am, and you know the way I work. I deduce people. And do you know what I see when I look at you, hmm?

"I look at you and I see a woman who has been reduced in life yes, but not in the usual way. I see a woman who has been brought low by choice.

"Those scars on your hands, they tell of someone who has been working long and hard with her hands but not cooking or other more traditional woman's work. Those cuts are in different places. More cuts reduced mainly to the tips where yours are more on the spans between as if bracing something open. Then there are those from the burns. They themselves speak of work with chemicals rather than heat or flame.

"Clearly this is a skill you have had for many years; from childhood, in fact. Your father, you assisted him for several years after you lost your mother. Learned more and more over time. But what was his exact profession hm? Not a surgeon nor a doctor, an apothecary perhaps?" He suggested, brows raising throughout his deduction and a cunning smile boosting of his pride. If Molly didn't know better of his disdain for her than she would be tempted to accuse him of showing off.

"No sir, please, I beg of you. That part of my life...it is in the past and I would very much like it to stay there."Molly pleaded, her eyes had begun leaking frustrated tears no matter how much she tried to keep herself composed. He saw it as weakness in her no doubt. His abhorrence for all emotion was a well known fact after all.

He also looked completely confused at her begging. "Why? You are looking to support yourself surely you could use the knowledge you have to gain employment as a nurse or some other situation where that you could use those skills. Why work instead be a simple, dull housemaid when you need not?"

"No, no I'm afraid I could not. Mr Holmes, I simply cannot allow my past to be any part of my future."

"Even if that past were able to secure you a place? Even here?" He asked slowly.

"A place...here?" Molly questioned. How could that part of her past lend her a secured position as a housemaid? Here or otherwise?

"I don't see why not. I've told you before, I need people who can be of assistance to me. Depending on your skills of course. But I do wish you would cease this entire being coy business." He reached over and began fiddling with the unorthodox Persian slipper there before shifting one brow up to look back across at her. The look made her lose her breath for reasons Molly herself was all together unsure of. "Unless there is a reason you are trying to hide who you are from me." He tilted his head back to fully look at her as he smiled wickedly. "Is there a reason you are trying to hide, Miss Hooper?"

Blanching Molly pulled in a breath. "You...know my last name?" If he knew her name what else then did he know?

"Oh yes, of course I do! You think you would have been able to stay so much as a night here in my home without my knowing exactly whom you are?" He accused as if he were somehow disappointed in her. "I am no fool after all."

Molly had no answer for that. He knew! Had known all along... oh of course he knew! She was the fool to think she'd hidden that part of her life from the likes of him. He was right. She was a silly, stupid girl! No wonder he wants you gone before you ruin him like you ruined your father. The negative voice returned. No! Sherlock had said something about wishing her to stay.

"Do you wish to tell me about your skill set now Miss Mary 'Molly' Louise Hooper? Daughter of Edward and Mary Hooper, formerly of Hooper's Mortuary Services." Sherlock began reciting her identity to her as sly as a fox, his eyes lit from within despite his schooled expression. "Just how involved were you in your father's business?"

Eyes closing, she answered honestly. "Extremely." Eyebrow raised he insisted she go on. "My mother past away along with my baby brother from a fever when I was eight years old. My father and I, we both got it too, and while he and I survived it left him weakened. I began doing all the housework from then on."

"And your work in the mortuary?"

"My father's weakness stayed with him and he never could recover his full strength. Soon I was with him in the Mortuary too, helping in any way I could. Undressing bodies, washing them, shaving and brushing out hair and redressing them to prepare them for their coffins.

"As time went on, I continued to assist my father when he grew weaker, embalming the bodies when he could not."

"Fascinating work I'm sure." Sherlock murmured. That made her look at him for the first time since she began to talk.

"It was." Molly found it freeing to admit that. So much so that her words began flowing out with little thought before she utters them. "Most clients were mundane, but sometimes, sometimes we had such... fascinating ones! My father taught me anatomy and how you could know how you could determine how someone died by their fingernails or the odor that lingers on the breath after death." Molly watched as the man across from her seemed keen to ask her a question but refrained motioning her to go on. "His health never did really improved. Sometimes were better than others but it seemed every small cold weakened his constitution a bit more. He relied on me quite heavily."

"And he was satisfied with your work?"

"I got to be better than him." When allowed a ghost of a smile at the thought of her father proudly smiling at her. "If I had been a son my father would have sent me to become a physician."

"There are schools that teach females. Did you apply to them?"

"No," the smiles fled, "my father felt that I would be better off if I were to marry and have the security and family that a marriage would grant. His greatest wish was that I not be alone in the world, sir." She looked toward the door, thinking of her family here.

"But you have not married. Why is that? I imagine he did everything in his power to secure a future for you."

"He tried too, yes. And I was engaged, for a period of time... but the man he proved to not be the sort I'd choose to be joined in matrimony with. Father agreed. " There was more to it than that, but Molly desperately wished not to get into that.

"There are worse things, I suppose than being a spinster after all. Being married to an undesirable, cruel mate being chief among them." Holmes conceded, his brows raising as his eyes seemed to focus on an inner thought. "But, financially; why did he not have some resources set aside to provide for you?"

"He did. I mean there were sir, but once my father grew sicker, I'm afraid the money, it went very fast."

"Ah, I see." Sherlock looked toward the fireplace for a moment. "You lost it then. Your financial security; Did you spend it all on some fraudulent cure all some charlatan was selling?"

"No sir, I am not so foolish. At least when it comes to those reprobates, hawking their poisons as miracle elixirs. I've met with many of the people who've turned to those tonics to regroup hair or find eternal youth. I'd never subject anyone to their evils." She paused, fortifying herself to explain further. "But you see, the man I was to marry, he... That is, perhaps I should start with him being... you see he was once my father's apprentice." Molly cast her eyes down, bunching her apron up in her fist. "And as my father grew weaker we left him more and more in charge while I would attended my father. And he... We discovered that he had been... You have to understand, we thought he was a good man, the son of my father's friend. We never suspected that he would do that to our clients."

A number of vile imagining as to what foul deed her former intended performed on the corpses must have flashed through his mind, torrid imaginings and an obvious curiosity to hear more. Molly continued her story unprompted. "It was the kidneys that gave it away. I found a whole parcel of them, a half dozen wrapped and stashed away in the corner of one of the cooling chambers we rarely used.

"In another parcel I found three hearts." She whispered. "I confronted him, and he didn't bother to deny it. A professor from the medical college was paying him quite well for those bits he managed to steal. He found nothing wrong with stealing, justifying it for the 'greater good' and I must be honest sir, I agreed. What good does it do to take them I the grave when others might use them to learn? To save a life?

"On the other hand, those belonged to our clients. People whose families entrusted and paid for their loved ones to us to be retired safe, respectfully and...whole. My conscience, for a time I'll admit was conflicted." Braving a look at Mr. Holmes she found him considering her, not as some monster but merely curious it seemed.

"I find I am in agreeance with you, Miss. Hooper." A corner of a smile lifted his lips. "Science requires samples to test on and demonstrate with. And to see them rotting away is a pointless waste." Molly nodded gently, looking unsure for moment, a gentle smile once more teasing at her lips. "But it wasn't only the body parts, was it?"

"No. No, it was not." Sighing sadly again before she continued on. "We demanded he cease the sales, and he agrees. And for a while I thought he had. Soon after though the Bobby's were coming around asking about former clients. Clients who it seemed were being stolen."

"Body snatching?" His interest acute.

Molly nodded. "Along with grave robbing of some of the past clients. All leading back to clients of Hooper's Mortuary. That was when we dismissed him. Both as my fiancé and as my father's apprentice. The damage was done however, Word spread and our once good reputation was forever tarnished.

"That when the real trouble began."

"What sort of trouble?"

"We had a break in, and a client's personal items, including an heirloom ring of a clients were stolen from the safe where we lock everything up. None of my father's or my own belongings were taken, even though they had the potential to fetch a far greater value than that ring. A further blight to our name.

"Then there were demands, threats, letter and vandalism to the building front. All claiming we would pay for the wrongs we'd done. As you can imagine, that caused even our dearest families faith to be shaken.

"The blackmail plus added costs of repairs and loss of income combined, plus the expenses you incurred due to your father's failing health. Your nest egg would have vanished within months." Several hundred pounds in as many months, she thought regretfully.

Sherlock considered her, his eyes dragging their way over slowly, Molly watched his hand fist before he asked the next question. "What about more intimately? You are a fairly attractive woman, did he also take advantage of you?"

Conflicting flushes of embarrassment raised her color. "No. He made one crude threat, there at the end but... mercifully never acted out in the threat of physical violence or... rape." She finished with a whisper. Inside her head she again heard his words 'you disgust me, Molly. The smell of death and decay wafts off you and turns my stomach. You vile excuse of a woman. How could a man desire a woman who finds happiness in being with the dead. Retched, horrible rotten excuse of a woman-

"Small mercies, that." Sherlock nodded once and relaxed his own hand, standing and walking from his chair to look into the empty grate, Molly found her eyes still watching his hands as one reached to hold the other. His demeanor was so calm and elegant she decided, the perfect image of a gentleman. So at odds I the man she first came across mere minutes ago in the midsts of his tantrum that destroyed the vase and the the papers on his desk. Sherlock Holmes was mercurial and fierce. Fear inducing and awe-inspiring all in one breath.

From his standing position, Sherlock stood watching the problematic maid surreptitiously from the mirror. She was easily as distressed as many of his clients who'd sat in her same spot had been, and refreshingly honest with him, neither over-sharing mundane, pointless information or omitting crucial pieces to insure her own modesty. "Your former beloved, where is he now?"

Attention turning to the back of his head, the woman bristled up once more sitting straight and strong. "I never referred to him by any sort of endearment, and I would beg you to please never to say that he was again. He was my intended, but never, never anyone beloved by me."

Her fiery answer soothed him, for reasons he didn't wish to delve into, and though he still faced away from her and she could not see he found a smile break through his schooled features. "Understood, my most sincere apologies."

"He is currently incarcerated. He and some fellows were caught disturbing a grave. It seems my father and I were not his only source of contraband bodies in the end. A coffin supplier of ours was also arrested."

"I see. So this fellow ruined your business, discredited you but was ultimately apprehended, and yet you choose not to seek a position at another mortuary institution?"

"There was not enough evidence to prove that he was the vandal or the thief and I had not the funds to secure a barrister to pursue the matter further, much as I wished too. As for seeking a position at another mortuary, who would hire me? The work is largely considered unsuitable to a woman. Particularly one who has been accused of mistreating the dead."

"Poppycock!" He snapped, spinning from the mirror. "You were never officially accused correct?" She shook her head no, although it had been close. Had the detective inspector not known her all her life... She surely would be in prison herself. "I find it unfortunate to hear that. You have the knowledge, the skills; what matter should a Person's sex have?"

"That is a very... generous thinking of you. Would that others would share that opinion with you. In fact, you sir are the first I have met that believe that."

"That woman are actual persons in possession of functional mental faculties? Indeed it is a rare opinion. The modern man is little more than a glorified ape and his thinking has evolved little past the understanding that he must and give himself shelter and to answer his urges of feeding, protecting and mating in a generally accepted way. The fact that he still can not manage to do those well is the reason I am able support myself as a consulting detective."

"You do not think highly of your sex."

"I am not inclined, to generally think well of anyone, Molly. Male or female."

"Oh, and here I thought I was the singular recipient of your displeasure." Molly murmured blushing again. She'd nearly forgotten his past disdain, after conversing with him.

"It's not that I dislike you, Miss. Hooper. It is simply that you do not belong here. You are wasted spending your days mopping floors and baking bread." He sat back down. "I spoke with a certain Detective Inspector, the man raved about the assistance that he received from your family's business. Said that you were the finest assistant he had ever come across in his career. Spoke of how you would be able to give him useful information even after the ignorant backwards excuse of morgue assistant had finished with the body. He misses your work greatly." Tilting his head he nodded to her. "Gregson went so far as to say you were his number one key to solving murders, that was until he met me, it goes without saying." Sherlock placed his fingers together below his chin. "Which leads me to wonder..."

"To wonder what, sir?"

"What might we be able to accomplish" he let a pause hang heavy his eyes captivating her attention fully, "together?"

Desire. It's heady effects were addling her brain no doubt, but that look that he wore made her fear she heard him incorrectly. He couldn't truly be... Well she honestly wasn't sure what he was suggesting. "I'm sorry, but...what?"

"Your knowledge, the things you can show to me. You could save us time, give me the needed information to apprehend the killer all the sooner. Don't you see?"

Oh. Right. "Yes... I suppose I do." Of course. Ever a silly fool to even think that he would...

"Would you be interested? Do you harbor any reservations against performing the work itself, particular when murder has occurred? Or is it simply that you have decided that your chances of having a position and a future would increase if your association with the deceased were unknown?"

"Mr Holmes, I- well I no I am rather comfortable with a body. Not all that I met have been freshly deceased. I am not bothered by any of the physicality. But I don't really know quite what to say in answer. You say you wish to collaborate with me, but I can not see how such a thing could even be possible."

"Leave the details to be, but believe me when I say that if you are even half as good as Gregson says than you'd be an asset to me. I shall make it possible. After all, people know me any my eccentricity I'm sure in time they'll accept it. You would be under my personal protection."He watched her waver, longing to say yes, but her instinct to protect herself making her begin to say yes. An answer he refuses to accept.

"Damn it to Hell, woman! I am offering you a chance! I shall not repeat my offer to you after today. So would you be willing to give me your insight on troubling cases or not?"

After a stunned moment Molly nodded, afraid of her own voices stability.

"Then it is settled."

"But sir, as much as I wish to accept I can not. My debts from my father will soon paid but till then I have nothing. Where I to leave I'd fear I would have nowhere to go that would allow me to board. My name and credit are not at all advantageous to finding a place. I did mean it when I said that I have a ... need to be with my family." It shamed her to admit her financial position, but she had to make him see. At least working as a domestic servant she had a roof over her head and would be fed while she paid the last of her creditors and doctors their due.

"Go? And just why should you be going anywhere?" Sherlock questioned, his face pulled into confusion.

"Then, you mean... I can stay? Here?" Molly clarified.

"Molly- Ms. Hooper. This is, I remind you, your Aunt' home. I can not therefore make you leave unless she wishes it." Much as a I wish you would his mind flashed, working with her and living under the same roof were two completely different things. "But I do recall saying I would not be paying you unless you proved yourself useful to me. With your unique skills you absolutely could be.

"So yes. Stay here." He paused and thought. "That way I should have use of you whenever the need strikes."

Molly knew he meant his statement practically but an untoward association still made her chastise herself for the thrill that ran through her. Here a man was telling her that he wanted her but rather than a torrid romantic novel 'I-must-have-you-or-I-shall-perish-with-want' manner, it was to work with her. Her! And all due up her experiences with the dead that she long feared she'd be mocked and shamed for.

Because no real man would want you, he only wants your knowledge from you, nothing more. He does not see you as a woman at all. Merely a tool to use to learn from. That's all you are to him. A way to learn something. You are as good as a book. No one finds a book desirable. You are just a means to an end.

No! Stop that girl. Stop it at once! It doesn't matter what he thinks of you in that manner Molly- girl. He is giving you what you deserve. A chance and respectful for that brilliant mind of yours. Her father past reminders of her worth filled her. This was a chance, a chance that very well would never happen again.

"So? Will you assist me?" Sherlock Holmes spoke, drawing her out of her own head.

"If I may stay then yes. I accept." Gladly! Her heart sang.

"Wonderful!" He stood up and offered her a hand. Molly hesitantly allowed him to pull her to standing right in front of him smiling gently up at him. For the first time since her first night at Baker Street she could relax and not fear her imminent departure. The smile of triumph that Sherlock Holmes answered her own made her heart thunder in a way that she knew wasn't in only from relief. She would still have to be careful around him. One false step and he would have her heart. "Now what say you to looking through our little friends stomach?"

Molly's eyes lit in anticipation and she giggled happily as he pulled her back to the study, anxious as a child to play with a new toy, dropping her hand only when reaching for his knife. Moving to make his first cut into the rat she suddenly reached over to stop him. "No sir, wait!"

"Please do not tell me you have had a change of heart." He growled as he watched her turn out of the room, then hearing her steady footprints thundering down the steps.

"Molly!" Sherlock thundered out. Wondering what he should be doing, should he follow? There was no way he was going to press her more than he had. He'd not meant to offer her any position least of all to let her stay at all! But the look in her deep eyes as she admitted her most guarded secrets of debt and discrediting had left him feeling protective of the woman. She had been wronged, and he wished to make it right somehow. To ease the heavy lode she had carried. Charity was one thing...But then there was that smile as she stood, the way her hand had felt clinging to his own for security, eyes alit with relief and near joy... He must have been still, lost in his thoughts for suddenly there she was coming back through the door.

"If you really insist on cutting the beast in here we should use a waxed cloth. It will make cleaning up after all the easier. Ah, and these..." She said handing him a pair of his gloves from near his chemistry set, before reaching into her apron pocket before wiggling her hand while her into a pair of soft sueded leather gloves of her own, he watched the way her nose scrunched up in concentration as she did so "never hurts to be careful when poison is suspect. Lest we become the third and fourth victims. Then you'd have an unintentional serial murderer to catch. Although of you were also a victim that me a wee bit tricky!" She giggled. Charmingly.

Too charming. Too distracting. He would have to be careful. To keep her at arm's length at all times.

Looking down he tugged on his own pair on. Before bending down making the first incision into the rat, he murmured, "don't tell jokes, Molly."

"Very well sir." She answered back lowly, as she leaned in, eyes locked in and watching the dissection.

"Humph." He huffed. So much for keeping her at arm's length.

Notes:
Yes, umeko-Sherlolly had a gorgeous drawing of Maid Molly lifting cigars out of the coal scuttle. How could I not write that into this story? The art inspires me.

This monster chapter was unbetaed, because I love my Beta and she has much more pressing things to do rather than edit 15 pages for me. So i have labored over this chapter (which I wrote prior to chapter three) for at least six months. I hope you enjoyed it. As for moving forward I waited to outline the remaining plot till after TAB to see how much my general plot line could fit in with Canon plot... well needless to say this will stay an AU and will only borrow minimally from canon. I can only hope though that I can find more of opportunity to write more in the near future... but with young kids and a husband who works 90hrs a week my time of being able to write while I have functioning mental capacities is limited. But I will keep on giving it my best.

Best wishes!

Mistykins