The creaking of the door opening woke Rachel from her sleep. "Good morning, miss. Here to check your vitals and drop off your breakfast." The morning nurse was friendly, but Rachel was ashamed to admit to herself that she forgot her name already.
"Good morning", Rachel replied warmly. "What time is it, may I ask?"
"Half past ten, you slept the morning away. Didn't want you missing your breakfast either." The older woman replied. She had brown hair, streaked with grey in the front. She was stout, but pretty. She finished checking her blood pressure, and unwrapped the cuff from Rachel's arm.
She turned and pushed over the tray that held a lovely breakfast. Fresh fruit, scrambled eggs, a bit of bacon and baked beans. As soon as Rachel laid eyes on the beans she lost her resolve and began crying.
"What ever is the matter?" The nurse hurried back over putting her hand on Rachel's back, seeing that she was hunched over, her available hand covering her face while she shuddered.
"Nothing, it's silly." Rachel felt as if she were a teenager again, crying over the silliest of things. Beans, really? I lose it over beans now? It's no wonder the psychologist visits daily. I would be concerned too. She wiped away her tears, wishing that the same motion would wipe away the pain. Her heart ached for the reassurance of her parents. The nurse patted her on the back and left the room without saying anything further.
Losing her appetite at the beans, Rachel decided now would be as good a time as ever to go visit Molly in the lab and see what she may have uncovered. Rachel swung her legs gently over the bed, rising carefully so as not to lose her balance. She still felt like a newborn deer when she would first get up in the morning thanks to her head injury. She carefully made her way over to the suitcase and unzipped it. Using the good arm, she rifled through the case in an attempt to find clothes that were not too badly wrinkled. A pair of dark washed jeans didn't look too badly wrinkled, and a grey button up sweater might do just right.
She took the outfit into the bathroom with her, hanging it behind the door. She got ready for her shower, placing her casted arm into a plastic bag and securing it at the top so no water would get in. She showered quickly, and dried off. She brushed out her hair, and toweled it dry. Her hair had a natural wave to it, and after a shower it would be almost as if it were curled. She had no hair dryer available, much less any way to style her hair even if she had wanted to. She parted it to one side and left it be. Her hair was long, it reached just above her hips, so the water dripped freely onto the floor. The steam from the shower had allowed the wrinkles in the outfit she chose to fall out, so it was a vast improvement. She dressed as best she could one handed, and buttoned the sweater up. Thankfully the cast was just below her elbow so she could roll the sleeve above it. She added just a bit of make-up so that she wouldn't look like one of Molly's patients. She found her favorite tan suede loafers lined with plush white fuzz under the bed. They were old, and a bit battered from all the wear but she wasn't in much of a mood to worry about her looks now anyway.
She rolled up the other sleeve of her sweater up so it would match the one of her left arm and so that the patient bracelet would be visible. Grabbing the bowl of fruit, she walked out the door. Within a few minutes she was at the door of the lab. She knocked to let Molly know she was there, and let herself in before waiting for an answer. Her eyes were immediately drawn to a man sitting at the center counter of the room. His face was hidden behind the microscope, his dark brown curls cascading around his forehead. He looked up, only for a second and Rachel stopped in her tracks. His face disappeared behind the lenses of the microscope again. The man was the same from her dream, she had no doubt. She wanted a closer look at him so she approached the table.
"Hello." She offered the greeting tentatively. She had immediately regretting not taking more time on her appearance. He let out an audible sigh, and mumbled what may have been a greeting.
"He's always like that. Pay no mind to him." Molly's voice came from behind her. Rachel turned to greet her. "That is Sherlock. He uses my lab for his research. he's a detective."
"Consulting Detective." The voice from behind the microscope said.
"I just finished running your DNA, Rachel. Shall we pull up the results?" Molly walked round the counter to the computer that was next to the man. She wiggled the mouse and the screen blinked to life. Typing in her password, she began accessing the files she would need to give Rachel her answers. Rachel came round and stood next to Molly, waiting to see anything that would answer questions for her. "One moment, let me access the program."
Suddenly the computer made a horrid screeching noise. The screen went blue, and the seal of the British Secret Service came up. Molly began to panic a bit, pressing the keys and wiggling the mouse, but the computer was locked.
Sherlock looked up, the sound of Molly's quickened breathing getting his attention. His eyes were met with the seal and his curiosity was piqued. "Name." He said in a curt, matter of fact way.
"Excuse me?" Rachel was unsure if he was speaking to her.
"Name." He said forcefully this time.
"Rachel Westmoore." She replied
"Oh yes, the girl from the bus crash." He replied. "That was no accident by the way." Sherlock rose from the stool and brushing Molly out of the way all in one motion. He keyed a few buttons and a prompt for a password came up. He entered what Rachel could only assume was a password. Nothing happened. He entered another password. Nothing. "Mycroft." He muttered. He turned quickly, his coat spinning behind him.
The confusion was apparent on Rachel's face. Molly was equally confused, and panic was building within her. What would the Secret Service want with her computer?
Sherlock disappeared out the door. Molly and Rachel looked at each other in confusion. The door once again opened quickly. Sherlock's head popped back in the door. "For your safety, I suggest both of you come along. MI6 will be storming this building within a matter of minutes." And with that he was out the door again. Rachel and Molly didn't give it a second thought, they were both out the door running after him. They ran through the corridors, and quickly to the exit of the building.
"Sherlock, what is going on?" Molly was beginning to get mad, wanting an explanation.
"It would appear that your friend here is of some value to the British government." Sherlock was hailing a cab. "And, her value has become my new interest." A black cab pulled over, and Sherlock opened the door for the two women. The three of them entered the cab. "221 B Baker Street." The cab disappeared around the corner. Four black, unmarked police cars drove by them, blue lights blinking. Rachel looked back in awe. What on earth is going on?