'I-What? Who are you, really? Are you some kind of… I dunno-'
'Mmm. I seem to have that effect on people. You, Molly, would never do. You're far too nervous and innocent to be of any real use to me.'
She looked affronted. She was perfectly reasonable as a person, thank you very much. She didn't really see how a lack of innocence was a bad thing, she saw plenty of girls wearing barely anything, flirting openly and- oh. That wasn't what he meant. She blushed deeply. Sherlock Holmes sighed.
'As usual, the wrong impression. Why must women believe I am interested in anything like that?'
'Because you're-' She blushed deeper. He stared at her face, trying to read it.
'Yes?'
'N-nevermind.'
'I have a case to crack Molly Hooper, run along.'
'No.'
'What?'
'I won't. I'm a pathologist, I can be of some use.'
'You may be right. Listen, I was talking to a woman, Mrs Hudson, about a flat on Baker Street. What do you think?'
'It's a bit sudden, isn't it?'
'If you're going to help me on cases and be of any use I need you close at hand. Can't go off on a case with you halfway across London. I must tell you that I play the violin when I'm thinking. Sometimes I'll just sit in the quiet. Other times, I won't have noticed your absence and will continue to talk. Is that alright with you? Of course it is. The cat can't come with you.'
'I- I… won't people talk? A man and a woman moving in together, people are going to talk.'
'Of course they're going to talk. Let them.'
'This could ruin my career, Mr Holmes!'
'Fine. Fine Molly Hooper. You just turn around, right now, return to your poky little flat with your cat and your romance novels. Forget you met me. Pretend I never existed.'
'You can't expect me-'
'Yes I can. You're a pathologist. You're around the dead all the time, in the still and the quiet. You want to be out there, living, being alive, feeling the adrenaline. You've seen some violent deaths. I'm sure you could handle some more.'