Finally, Molly Hooper was a fully certified pathologist at St. Bart's hospital. Her second day of work was when the unexpected happened.
She had been working on a rather difficult cadaver when the morgue doors flew open. Molly looked up in surprise at the man in a black suit and belstaff coat. He had already taken off his blue scarf. In Molly's eyes he was gorgeous.
"Can I help you?" She asked.
"I need to examine a body you got in. It's for a case at Scotland Yard." The man said.
"Sure. Erm-do you- um need anything else?" Molly stuttered.
"Look at this body and tell me the cause of death." The man replied.
"Okay. To a normal person it would appear that Miss Jones was killed from a stab wound in the stomach, but to the trained eye it is obvious that she died from a poison injected just under the jaw line. The stab wound was a cover up." Molly did her best to impress this handsome stranger.
"Yes! Oh brilliant! I was right. How long have you worked here?" He asked.
"Two days." Molly answered.
"I am almost always here. Most pathologists won't work with me. Will you work with me?"
"Sure. How hard could it be?" Molly replied.
"Excellent." The man said. "I'll be off."
He made his way to the door.
"Wait!" Molly called. The man turned around. "Do you have a name?"
"The name' Sherlock Holmes and I'm a consulting detective." He winked at her and left.
Molly tried to figure out why that name sounded familiar. It bugged her for the rest of the day.
She was just drifting off to sleep when she remembered.
"Sherlock Holmes from kindergarten. I had a crush on his brother." She said aloud. She wondered if he remembered her.
Sherlock lay in his bed thinking about the mousey pathologist he had met that day. He didn't have a name to go on, but she seemed familiar. He felt as if he had seen her before. He shook it off as a coincidence, but then again, since when did Sherlock Holmes believe in coincidences.