She had expected to go to a government office, or at least a nice cafe, but as they drove through more and more derelict regions of the city, she began to think that her assassination theory might be more likely. They passed what seemed to be a set of abandoned council flats and stopped at a gate which opened for them. They drove through to a warehouse. Someone inside opened the door and they drove into a building that was mostly abandoned.
The woman stepped out of the car, coming around to open the door for her. She followed, looking up at the chains swinging from the ceiling. She imagined herself hanging there. She began to wonder who exactly was Mycroft Holmes, and what was he doing meeting her here? The woman opened a door, and stood aside. She walked in expecting the woman to follow her, but she closed the door behind Molly and stayed outside.
Molly turned back to face Mycroft Holmes. He was sitting in a leather arm chair. A metal folding chair was in front of him. He gestured for her to take a seat. She looked around the room surprised at the emptiness of it. Then she wondered who had carried the chair all the way out here into this empty room.
"You are wondering why we are meeting here instead of someplace more... formal. It is because you and I know something that almost no one else knows, and I would rather that our meeting remain... private. Now, Miss Hooper, you had a concern?"
Molly walked over to the chair and sat down. She placed her bag first on one knee and then the other before deciding to place it on the floor. "Well Sher..."
"It's best if we don't say his name out loud. I know who it is you are referring to. Go on."
Mycroft Holmes was looking at her in the same steady way that Sherlock would look at a body. It unnerved her. Molly sat up a bit straighter. "Well, uhm... I received a note. There's to be an investigation."
"About the increased mortality rates in UK hospitals, yes," he said nodding.
"Well, I'm in records and I... well he... there might be some question. That is, if someone comes asking... there might be some irregularity."
He glared at her even more, if that were possible. "What irregularity exactly?" he asked.
"Well, you know that... Sher... that he... I signed the death certificate."
"Did you make an error in the form?"
"No."
"And you followed all proper procedures in the reporting of the death."
"Well, yes but..."
"Then I don't see the problem, Miss Hooper. They are interested in statistical data only. The person of which we speak was not a patient in said hospital at the time. He was brought into the hospital when he was already dead. He would not be considered in the statistics of which they will be examining, however, if it would make you feel better for me to place an agent in the investigatory team."
"No! no! I don't want to draw any attention. I just was afra... uh... concerned. I just don't know what to do if they start asking questions."
"They won't ask questions about the document if you don't act suspicious. Do you think that you can do that Miss Hooper? I can't tell you how sensitive this matter is. It is of the utmost importance that no one know about this. Lives depend on it. It won't become a problem will it Miss Hooper."
"No, I just... I just wanted to bring it to your attention."
Mycroft sat back and crossed his legs. "Noted. Thank you Miss Hooper."
She looked at him, and then looked down. It seemed that he wouldn't be investigating any more than was necessary. She need not have worried. Perhaps she would get out of here alive.
Mycroft Holmes placed his hands together under his chin and looked over at her. "Your help in this matter has granted you my sincerest gratitude. Be assured that this is worth a great deal. Is there anything else of concern Miss Hooper?"
"No."
"Good," he said with a nod. He pulled his phone out of his pocket then and touched a key. The door opened, and the woman walked in. "And might I congratulate you on your new relationship. I'm sure that the young man will be useful in... relieving your stress."
Relationship? How did he? Of course Sherlock's brother would be able to read her as easily as he could. She started to blush, as she rushed through the door past the woman who smiled knowingly at her.
As he had said, the investigators were only interested in aggregate data from people who had stayed at least one full day in the hospital. If any of the investigators worked for Mycroft, she saw no sign of it. Even so, she decided not to do anything that might draw attention to Jim. The investigation lasted two weeks. During that time she made no visits to him. This, and her desire to stay away from the office as much as possible in case she let something slip, led her spend lots of time with Tom.
Tom was sweet and... enthusiastic. He apparently found her body irresistible, and after thirty five years of being a plain Jane, she was enjoying the difference very much. Maybe it wasn't so bad to allow herself a little 'stress relief' as Mycroft Holmes named it. She was having absolutely phenomenal amounts of sex.
They held hands at the train station as he waited to go on a trip to visit his cousins. They had dogs, and did some kind of physical activity out in the North somewhere. The two of them had spent the night saying goodbye, and the morning. He had finally taken his hands off of her long enough to go home and pack before meeting her here for a little last minute cuddling. He wrapped his hand around her hand-knitted scarf and looked down at her.
"I'm going to miss you."
"I'll miss you too, Tom."
"It's just. These last few weeks. It's been ... really, really good."
"Yes," she said looking around him to see when the train was leaving.
"I wanted to ask you... that is to say... Molly, I have something to ask you."
She looked up at his earnest eyes. "What? What is it you wanted, Tom?"
"Molly..." The whistle blew.
"Your train! We'd better hurry or you'll miss it." She started to walk away, but his hand on her scarf held her back.
"Molly, I wanted...I wanted to ask you..."
"Oh! My scarf? You wanted to ask if you could keep my scarf? Of course. I should have knitted you one by now, not that I've had much time to knit, but the train is about to go. Hurry."
Molly picked up the bag and rushed to the train. She placed the bag on the floor of the train car, and when he bent over to kiss her, she draped the scarf around his neck. "Have fun with your family," she said kissing him on the cheek before stepping back onto the platform as the train began to pull away.
He looked back at her, face pressed against the window. She waved until the train turned the corner, and then she left. She looked around to make sure that no one was watching, and then she took a bus that went away from Barts and her flat. It had been far too long since she had visited Jim.