Okay, I debated and debated on what to do with this one, so finally I decided to place it here, and I hope you enjoy it!

FYI: There will be a second part to this!

THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR CONTINUED SUPPORT! IT MEANS SO MUCH!

Please remember to review at the end! :)

Description: While examining a body found in the street, Sherlock realizing the body has a connection to a criminal, and that certain criminal has a connection to a certain pathologist.

Also, this is set in the Victorian Age, (Mainly because I love this era for Sherlock!) but you can look at this as a modern version of the age, if you wish with Molly not having to disguise herself. It can go either way!

The moment he saw her, he knew who she was. It wasn't hard, for she held the same calculating eyes as her villain of a father, but instead of her eyes being cold, they were warm and inviting.

He didn't let it be known that he knew who she was, but every moment they spent together, he knew she knew.

He watched as she moved over the corpse at the crime scene, and smiled to himself at how pristine she was, and yet she was the most professional person there, even in the disguise she wore.

"It appears the bullet went straight through, but I can't be certain." She remarked, moving her hands, gently over the man's body. She lifted her eyes to his, and gave a wane smile.

He hummed, and bent down to her level, his eyes staying focused on hers. "It appears the bullet was fired from a distance of twenty or so feet." He concluded, judging from the location of the wound, and the position of the body.

She smiled, and lowered her eyes. "If the bullet did not pass through, then I may have it out as soon as I get to the morgue." She remarked, with interest.

He nodded, and smiled at her. "Well then, I shall see you at the morgue, Dr. Hooper." He replied, standing up, and walked away with his long jacket billowing in the small wind.

She smiled, and bowed her head. "I look forward to it." She whispered, motioning to the others to gather up the body. "He's ready." She added, as the body was lifted onto the gurney.

~XXX~

Everyone had gone home, with the exception of Molly and the corpse. She sighed as she finally was able to let her hair down and work over the corpse without interruptions from Anderson or Lestrade or whoever.

The only one she wished to see was him, and he wouldn't come until a little later.

"Dr. Hooper,"

She stiffened for only a second, and smiled, as she bent over the corpse once again. "Mr. Holmes, I presume." She remarked, as he walked around the table with a small groan.

"You've been reading Watson's stories again." He muttered, shaking his head.

She lifted her eyes, and smiled. "Well, your adventures are quite…riveting." She remarked, with a sly smile.

He rolled his eyes, and bent to focus on the corpse on the table. "Have you recovered the bullet?" He asked, uncaringly.

She sighed, and shook her head. "I was just about to pull it out." She answered, reaching for the tweezers, and motioned for his assistance. "Would you be so kind?" She asked, motioning to the lamp on the table.

He smiled, and complied with her wish, lifting the lamp towards the wound, and focused on the body or more importantly her hands.

They were so small, and yet so capable to whatever she wished to do with them. He envisioned for a moment what they would feel like running through his hair, or better, clinging to his shoulders, letting her small nails bite into his skin as he brought her indescribable pleasure.

"There it is." She remarked, pulling a bullet out with little difficulty. She dropped it into dish bowl beside the body, and smiled. "Do you mind holding the lamp there, while I make sure there are no more?" She asked, politely.

He shook his head, and moved his eyes towards the bowl. "By all means," He murmured, watching her work with delicate hands and expert skill.

For the life of him, he never understood why women were not allowed to participate in these fields, only as assistants. He knew the dangers Molly was placing herself in as she dressed as a man every day in order to perform the profession that seemed to be her calling.

"I can hear your thoughts, Sherlock." She remarked, lifting her eyes carefully, but not lifting her head.

He smirked, and raised one brow. "Oh, can you really, Molly Hooper?" He asked, teasingly.

She smiled, and focused on the body, or at least pretended to. It was hard to concentrate on her work with the man who occupied her thoughts at times. "I don't see any others. You may take away the lantern." She requested, straightening, only to capture the scorching eyes of the man across the table.

She knew what he was looking at, and for the life of her, she wondered why he had not said anything or for that matter, done anything.

Sherlock Holmes was not a man who teased, and by the look on his face, she knew he wasn't teasing. She smiled, and felt a blush appear on her cheeks, before turning away from the body.

"Will you be examining the bullet at your flat or will here be sufficient?" She asked, clearing her throat.

Sherlock hummed, and moved around the table to where she was standing. "I can use this if you don't mind." He answered, watching her shake her head. "Thank you, Dr. Hooper." He added, watching her nod as she lifted the microscope, and placed it in front of him.

"Let me know what you find." She requested, moving away from him towards the body.

He smiled, and nodded, and then focused his attention towards the bullet in the microscope. His smile faded as he began to notice the markings, and upon closer examination he realized why they appeared to be familiar. "Lancaster," He muttered, knowing immediately where the bullet came from.

Molly turned around when she heard the mumbling, and the name of the gun caused her to pale. "Sherlock?" She asked, her voice quaking.

Sherlock stiffened at the sound of his name on her lips, and lifted his head from the scope to find her beside him. "Molly…"

"You said Lancaster." She whispered, bowing her head to gaze at the microscope. "It's him, isn't it?" She asked, her voice shaking.

He sighed, and opened his mouth to disprove the accusation, but he couldn't. Not to her. "The markings are similar." He answered, in a semi-unemotional tone.

She nodded, and turned her gaze to the body on the table. "You're the only one who knows, right?" She asked, focusing on the body.

Sherlock nodded, and watched her face turn from a daughter worried or scared for her father to a professional woman he knew and cared for. Besides, he knew what she was asking. She was hoping no one else knew that she was daughter of a criminal, or son, in this age. "Molly, will you…?"

The shake of her head stopped his words from finishing. "I'll be fine. It's like any other job, right?" She answered, forcing a smile.

Sherlock hummed, and watched her move away towards the body to finish her examination. He knew what this meant to her, and to him.

There was one thing left to do. Standing up, he moved in quick, long strides towards her, and stilled her shaking hand before she could reach for the scalpel. In a quick turn, he pulled her into his arms, and let her cry.

~XXX~

"Mrs. Hudson, would be so kind as to bring up a pot of tea?" He asked, as they entered the brownstone, and he nodded towards the kind woman who thought of him as a son.

Mrs. Hudson nodded, and sent a sympathetic gaze towards Molly, who had changed into her high collar dress, and her hair was pulled up in a period style bun, but it wasn't the dress or the hair that caught Mrs. Hudson's eyes, it was the red eyes of Molly Hooper. "I'll be right up, dear." She responded, turning towards the kitchen.

Sherlock nodded a thank you, and led Molly up the stairs towards his loft. "Here, let me." He volunteered, taking her top coat, and hanging it up along with his Belstaff.

She smiled, and moved towards the window. Folding her arms over her chest, she stared out into the streets, and sighed. "Thank you, Mr. Holmes." She remarked, hearing him move behind her.

"Molly," He responded, causing her to turn around.

Molly lifted her brown eyes to his, and smiled, softly. "I was perfectly capable of heading back to my home, Sherlock. I did not need to come here. What would Mrs. Hudson say?" She asked, just as the woman entered.

"I would say that you are a client in need of some comfort." She responded, placing a tray on the table. "Besides, times are changing, Ms. Hooper." She added, straightening with a kind smile. "No one needs to know who Sherlock brings home." She concluded, with a tender gaze. "I'll just be downstairs if you need me." She finished, walking out the door, and closed it behind her.

Sherlock nodded, but his eyes were focused on Molly. "Are you alright?" He asked, gently.

She smiled, but the smile didn't reach her eyes. "I will be when this is over." She answered, strongly. "Did you ever figure out why my father killed that man?" She asked, moving away from him.

Sherlock shook his head. "No, I have not." He answered, keeping his distance from her as she moved to sit down on the couch.

She nodded, lifting her head to look at him. "I want to help, Sherlock." She stated, watching him smile.

He moved towards her, and sat down in the chair across from her. "I'll accept." He responded, lifting his hands to clasp them in front of his face, and bent his head.

She tilted her head, and watched him enter the place only few had the privilege to witness.

He had entered his mind palace.

~XXX~

It was hour before he came back to the real world, and lifted his eyes to find her in the kitchen. He slowly stood up, and entered the kitchen with quick strides.

She turned around, and smiled. "I wanted to fix something to eat." She responded, motioning to the fresh pot of food on the stove.

He nodded, but his eyes conveyed a question she knew he had.

She tilted her head. "I don't know any of his associates or men who had dealings with him." She answered the unspoken question.

He hummed, as he usually did when he received an answer he didn't like.

"I'm sorry." She responded, but his head shook before she could respond any other way.

"Tomorrow, I'll go to Lestrade, and determine who he is." He remarked, with certainty.

She nodded, and bowed her head.

Fingers encircled her chin, and lifted her face to his. "I promise, Molly Hooper, they will not find out your connection to him." He vowed, watching her smile.

She lifted her hand to grasp his wrist. "I trust you, Sherlock Holmes." She whispered, holding his eyes.

He smiled, and bent his head, placing it on his forehead on hers. In that moment, it was enough.

Please be kind!

At first, it was going to be short, and then I thought of making this a full story, but then I decided to just do two parts, so I hope you like!

I'm still taking requests, so if you have any! I'll get to them all soon!

Until Next Time...