Chapter Two

Molly and I quickly became best friends. We spent almost every evening together, having dinner in one of our apartments. Sometimes I would pop into the hospital and have lunch with her on a day where we were both bored. It was really good to have such a good friend in a new place like this.
Before I knew it a month had passed by. I still couldn't believe I had been in London for a whole month. I was really starting to get settled and used to it. I had started writing again and found myself enjoying it more than I ever had.

"Molly, what are London boys like?" I mused one evening. Molly had taken a personal day and we were spending it together and having a girl evening, having some tea/hot chocolate on my bed.

"I don't get around too much, actually. I keep to myself usually" she shyly admitted.

Suddenly there was banging coming from out in the hall.
"Molly!" an irritated voice was calling.

Molly and I set our cups down and went to look. A man was standing outside her door in the dimly lit hallway, impatiently pounding on the door.

"Oh!" she gasped. The man heard her and turned.
"Ah. Molly. There you are. I am in need of your services." the man stated brusquely.

"What? I-"
"Why weren't you at the hospital today?" he demanded.

"Personal day" she stammered.
I frowned at the man. Something was familiar about him, like I knew who he was.
"Ridiculous." he muttered.

"What do you want?" Molly asked a little sharper.
"Excuse me? Why don't you address her nicely?" I demanded sharply. The stranger's piercing eyes turned to me. Molly noticed.

"O-oh I'm so sorry how rude of me. This is-"

"Your new neighbor in the flat right next to you. Came from the United States, New Hampshire I'd say. A novelist who just decided to move to London on a whim away from her family and few friends she has to forget about her stalker who subsequently murdered her fiance. Not interested. Moving on."

Molly looked so embarrassed she wanted to die.
And then it clicked in my brain.

"Ah, yes. My name is Alexandra. Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Sherlock Holmes."

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Now that it had clicked I felt like an idiot. Of course it was the Sherlock Holmes Molly had told me about! He had the height, the dark hair, the piercing eyes, the bluntness, the rudeness, and the intelligence. I should have known immediately.

"You really are as smart as they say. How on earth did you know all that?" I asked curiously.

"Simple. Attire and pale complexion says New England, but the tag you've forgotten to take off of your shirt says the name of a store only in New Hampshire. The pencil tucked behind your ear that you didn't even remember was there and the ability to move your life and not worry about an occupation suggests writer. Not very close to family seeing as though you so easily left them, and you don't have many friends based off of your quiet and lonely occupation and the fact that you are so closely associated with Molly Hooper-"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Molly scowled.

"-You obviously had a stalker, as is evident by your need of privacy and slight flinching every time your phone in your pocket vibrates and the fact that you moved away. You also have an engagement ring on your hand but on your right ring finger, so you obviously are not engaged any longer, but for reasons out of either of your control. Therefore he died and was murdered by your stalker. You obviously are no longer distraught over it, however you have dark circles under your eyes that also indicate you don't sleep much. Probably nightmares. You have had help and are finally ready to put everything behind you- hence your sudden move to London. Simple."
Sherlock Holmes spoke very quickly and bluntly. While it was clear he loved to show off, he seemed to be irritated to have to explain his reasonings to something he knew to be true.

"What did you want, Sherlock." Molly demanded icily.

"Oh yes. Could I borrow your mobile?"

"...What?"

"I need it to call a number for a case I'm on."

"You...came all the way here...to ask for her phone?" I blinked.
"Mine's on the website. Always a possibility it could be recognized."

"Why couldn't you use John's? Mrs. Hudson's?" Molly asked.
"Mrs. Hudson apparently went out or she didn't hear me shouting. John's out on a date with some woman and I've run out of body parts to experiment with- the reason I stopped by the morgue, though Molly decided to be of no use and use a ridiculous 'personal day'. I'm bored and decided to solve this case and I need your mobile."

"Listen-"
"Fine. Here." Molly dug in her pocket and pulled out her cell phone, handing it to Sherlock.

Immediately Sherlock dialed a number and waited for it to ring.

"Hello?" a voice sounded on the other end of the call.
"Allo sir" Sherlock immediately adopted a thick and very convincing French accent. "I have recently heard of your cousin's dreadful passing and wanted to ask if you knew how he was killed I used to be a friend of his"

"He fell into a pool and drowned "
"We used to be such good friends it's such a tragedy!" Sherlock's fake accent still very natural and convincing.

"Yes, if only he knew how to swim...I'm sorry who did you say you were?"
"An old friend." Sherlock suddenly dropped the French accent and hung up.

He dialed another number.

"Lestrade? It was the bitter and jealous cousin. He was having an affair with the victim's wife and wanted to win her over and make her be with him permanently."

Sherlock hung up and handed the phone back to Molly.

"Be at work tomorrow." he demanded.

"Okay" Molly softly agreed.
I had been able to tell that Molly liked Sherlock, but seeing her in front of him I could see just how hopelessly she was in love with him. I had never seen her like this before- tolerating such rudeness, speaking softly, and looking at him with puppy dog eyes. She was head over heels for Sherlock Holmes.