Molly's POV
I snuggle into my sofa and sigh contentedly as I bring the hot chocolate to my lips. The scalding hot liquid burns my tongue and I wince. Typical, nothing seems to be going quite right today. First, I accidentally mislabel a patient. Then, I make a fool out of myself in front of Sherlock when I trip and fall flat on my face. And then I take the wrong train home and end up way off course and having to take a taxi and pay triple what I needed to. Just another bad day. I log onto my e-mails to check my computer. Mike said he was going to e-mail me some pf the patient files I had mixed up today to sort out for tomorrow. No peace, even at home. Even Toby won't snuggle up to me. Lazy thing.
Oh. That's new.
An e-mail from Anonymous from the dating website. I smile in surprise and pick up my phone to text Celia...and then it hits me. I immediately close my laptop and walk to my bedroom. I definitely was not expecting a response, I was far too forward and it was such a bad introduction. I take a few deep breaths to calm myself down. I should have waited, it's too soon since her death I'm not ready. I curl up under the covers and close my eyes willing it all to be a dream. Eventually I drift off...
I wake up groggily and look around for my phone. It's 3AM. I sigh in frustration and force myself out of bed for a glass of water and a snack. As I head to the kitchen I glance over at my laptop and remember why it was I went to bed so early. I head back to the sofa and decide to take a peek at the message:
Hi Molly. Thank you for your response. It's nice to meet you. I do have a cat actually, his name is Ti. And yes, I do go shooting often. Almost everyday in fact. It's one of my favourite pastimes. Sorry if that seems a bit violent. It's just that I'm good at it. Do you have any hobbies?
He sounds rather nice, probably not a creep. I try and think of a decent reply but I'm struggling. I'm really tempted to make a morgue joke. Seriously, it's difficult to restrain myself, especially with his comment about 'violence'. Mike usually laughs at my morgue jokes, but that's because he gets it. He's down there with me regularly. Would this almost complete stranger laugh? Should I risk it? Well, they're gonna meet me sooner or later, might as well let them see my personality, even the bad jokes:
Hi. I never got your name. Snap, both of our cat's names begin with T. What a coincidence. Don't worry about violence, I'm a pathologist, brutal killings are my forte. In terms of hobbies, I don't do much other than hang out with my cat and work. There's just not that much to do, you know? How'd you get into shooting?
That sounds ok. It's not nearly as bad as last time. I hit send and sigh. I hope he likes me. I really do. I've not had a good experience so far. I always seem to go for people that clearly aren't meant for me. First I fall head over heels for Sherlock, a highly intelligent (as well as oblivious) man who clearly isn't interested in romance. Then James, or Jim, or Richard. Whatever you want to call him. He was a psychopath who is the head of a criminal network (honestly, what was I expecting?) and used me to get to Sherlock. I'm no one to Sherlock, I still don't get why he'd use me. Of all people. That's probably why he's dead now, I didn't provide sufficient information or something. Ha.
And then there was Tom...oh Tom. Celia was right, he was just a Sherlock lookalike. He was kind...and nice...and just all-round lovely. But we weren't meant to be. We were so close, we almost got married. But it didn't work. It never worked. Tom had figured out he was just a stand-in. I did love him, 'd become so close to him...but I didn't want to marry him. I could picture a life with him, but I didn't want that life. We had planned it all out actually, kids and houses and happiness. We didn't argue often and we got along so well. But we could both agree that our relationship was lacking. There was something not quite right.
Me and men. It just doesn't work. Well here's hoping. One more shot.
