Chapter Four

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Molly watched with admiration as her favorite person prepared her favorite meal. She sat at the servants table, where she ate most of her meals growing up, and tried to steady her breathing. Standing up to her mother like that was new to her. Her mother and she always fought a little bit, but nothing like that. She didn't know how she was going to mend their relationship now.

Molly looked up when Mrs. Johnson cleared her throat, indicating that the food was done. Molly hungrily looked at the plate. She saw a hamburger with mustered and mayonnaise on the burger; lettuce, tomato, and pickles on the side; and a great big pile of French fries lathered up in ketchup next to it. Her mouth watered as Mrs. Johnson moved forward to place the plate in front of her.

"Thank you so much! Have I told you lately how much I have missed your cooking?"

"Only every day since you have returned my dear." Mrs. Johnson sat down the dinner in front of Molly and went on to say, "I will never understand what you like so much about this American food though"

"It was the year after mom married Edward. We took a vacation in America during the summer. They had the most incredible food there. So much better than the nasty caviar I was being forced to eat at every dinner party that I was forced to go to. You began working here about a month after we got back." Molly paused for a second as she remembered back to the time that Mrs. Johnson became like a mother to her, "I remember being upset one night. I was crying ever so hard. Probably about my father death. I wasn't quiet over it yet. Well to be honest, I guess I'm still not completely over it. Anyways, you knocked on my bedroom door and asked if there was anything that you could get me. I had no idea what to say. I panicked and yelled out that I wanted a hamburger because it was the only thing that I could think of. When the hamburger was ready instead of just calling me down to come get it you brought it to my room. And then you just sat there until I was ready to talk." Molly looked up and met a teary eyed cook as she finished her statement, "Honestly, I don't know if I like the hamburger or the memory more. I just know it's my comfort food because it reminds me of you."

Mrs. Johnson wiped a tear from her eye before she said, "Hush now. You're going to make me cry all over this food. You always did have a way with words. I thought for sure you were going to be a writer, or if you hadn't been so shy a speaker of some sorts. But I suppose with your genius and oddness a pathologist really was the best choice."

Molly laughed full heartedly as she imagined herself speaking in front of dozens of people. In her mind she stood tall and confident. She spoke clearly and loudly. It made her smile wide. But it quickly turned into a frown when Sherlock's face appeared in the audience and all she could do after that was stutter and mumble.

Mrs. Johnson noticed the sudden frowned and asked Molly what was wrong. Molly responded with, "Oh nothing I was just imagining how ridiculous Sherlock would think that idea was. With my constant stuttering and all."

Mrs. Johnson rolled her eyes and chuckled before she said, "If you would just admit to being in love with him your stuttering would probably stop."

"I am not in love with him!"

"Uh huh. Then why do you stutter? Only around him might I add. And why do you talk about him constantly?"

"I stutter around him because he makes me nervous. I feel uneasy whenever he is around. I know he is deducing me. It makes me uncomfortable, people usually can't read me, but he does it so easily. It's like I am an open book. It's weird. And I talk about him constantly because we work together. When I ring you up and our conversation turns to my job of course I have to mention him. He's a huge part of it."

"Okay. Okay. I believe you. But don't deny that you at least fancy him a little."

"Maybe a little. But that's just because he's so attractive. And his voice, it gives me chill bumps. And I love when he goes to his mind palace, he'll just sit in the chair for hours with his hands under his chin and as soon as his eyes open he'll be on his way because he's solved his case. So yes I may fancy him a little but I am definitely not in love with him. Besides he's an ass and it's been getting on my nerves more and more every day. Using me. Ugh, it's so annoying! He's my friend, at least I think, he doesn't have to manipulate or flirt with me to get his way. He just needs to ask nicely and then respect my answer to whatever he wants from me."

Mrs. Johnson nodded her head with great interest, "I wish I could meet him one day. You always talk about the incredible cases that you guys solve."

Before Molly could reply they heard a low baritone voice cut in and say, "I believe I could arrange that."

Molly's eyes grew huge and her eyebrows shot up as she stuttered her next sentence, "Wha-What…are…yo-you…doing…uhm…in here?

"Coming to look for you, of course."

"Why?"

"To apologize."

"Oh" She meant to say more. She didn't like the uncomfortable silence. She wanted to talk and mumble about how she forgave him and it was alright. But a bigger part of her wanted him to properly apologize. She even admitted to herself that she would love to see him beg for her forgiveness. She knew that wouldn't happen so she would just have to settle for a sincere apology. So she waited until Sherlock cleared his throat and awkwardly continued.

"I am deeply sorry for upsetting you early. I did not mean to make you feel as though I was using you."

"It's okay Sherlock."

"I do have to add though, that I still believe that you knowing the culprit will help us in the long run. If you don't mind helping, that is."

Molly sighed, "Sherlock, I don't know how I could help you. I haven't talked to Duncan in years. I don't think he would even want to talk to me."

"You would be incorrect about that. When you came out in…"he paused as he looked her up and down. He awkwardly cleared his throat and then finished, "that dress. His reaction was one of great interest. I think that he would very much like to see you again."

Molly's cheeks burned red with embarrassment. Both at the way Sherlock looked at her and knowing that Duncan found her attractive, "Fine. But what do you want me to do? I don't think he is going to end up telling me that he murdered someone. That isn't exactly pillow talk…I mean! I wouldn't sleep with him… that's not what I meant… I mean… Just… how would I get him to confess to me?"

Sherlock's eyes narrowed at her exclamation at sleeping with Duncan but went back to normal in a second, "I think you talking to him may lead to some clues, plus if you go on dates with him and I know exactly where he is I would be able to search his house and office without any interruptions."

Molly pulled out her phone and started searching her contacts. "What are you doing?" asked a confused Sherlock.

"Uhm, calling Duncan?"

"I thought you hadn't spoken or seen him in years."

Molly had the phone up to her ear as she whispered to Sherlock, "I haven't… Oh hello. Yes. This is uhm Molly. Oh sorry! I mean Mary. Mary Ravensdale. Is this Duncan?" Sherlock glared as she sighed and smiled when she heard his familiar voice reply back to her, "Hey! My mother gave me your number, actually she gave me about 100 numbers of classmates that I no longer talk to, thinking that maybe I would. Yeah, she's still a little crazy. Actually she seems to be getting crazier. Haha. How have you been? Yes, I've been fine. I work in London as a Pathologist. Uh huh, I love my job. Look I was uhm wondering if you would mind talking. Like in person? I wanted to meet up at the fountain. In like 15 minutes. If you want to that is? You do? Great! Okay I'll see you there soon! Thank you so much! Oh. Thanks. I've miss you too." Molly hung up the phone and smiled at Sherlock, "Was that okay?"

Sherlock looked down at his pathologist. Part of him wanted to reply with a hurtful comment because he didn't like how friendly she seemed to with this man he believed to be a murder. But her eyes were so big and shining so bright. He could tell she was enjoying this. Not because she was going to see Duncan again but because she was helping him. Plus she was having fun. So he let a small smile slip and said, "Yes. That was fine. John and I will need to wire you before you go down. So we can document everything that he says." He was surprised when her cheeks started to turn red. And for the millionth time he wondered what was going through her mind when she got so flustered with the innocent things he said. He sent out a quick text to John and introduced himself to Mrs. Johnson.

"As you may have realized by now I am Sherlock. It is an honor to meet you."

Mrs. Johnson reminded him of Mrs. Hudson. Sherlock understood why Molly loved this woman so much. Her smile was so welcoming it almost made him feel at home. Instead of taking the hand that he offered she went in for a hug. Sherlock uncomfortably looked over her shoulder and spotted Molly giggling. He narrowed his eyes at her but instead of it making her stop like he suspected it would her laugh grew louder. "Mrs. Johnson I think you are making him uncomfortable. Sherlock isn't really into touching."

"Oh! I am so sorry dear! But shaking hands is so impersonal. I feel as though I have known you for years with the stories that Molly has told." Of course Sherlock knew what she was talking about, he had just overheard them talking about that very thing, but he looked towards Molly and rose his eyebrows just to get a reaction from her. As he had hoped her cheeks turned red and she shifted her eyes downwards.

"I am sorry to say Mrs. Johnson that I have not had the same pleasure. Molly has not talked about you at all. Which is a great misfortune to me, let me assure you."

"Well of course she hasn't! Molly has always been very private. Sometimes it would take me hours to get her to talk to me about what was bothering her. This was probably something she inherited from her father. I had never met him myself but through the stories she tells I can see it being the cause."

"You are very observant Mrs. Johnson."

"Yes, well. Molly is the daughter I never had."

"Ahh. Yes. Five boys. All grown men now. And I would have to say 10 maybe 11 grandchildren. All boys as well."

"There is the deducting! I was hoping I would see it firsthand one day! You were right Molly, it is very uncomfortable when he does it. I feel as though he knows my whole life even though we just met a few minutes ago. And you are right Sherlock, all boys in the family. 10 right now, a daughter-in-law pregnant. We just found out the other day it was to be another boy. So many filthy crazy boys. Molly was a nice change of pace when I came to work. Don't get me wrong she was still filthy. Always doing experiments on animals. It would scare her mother to death." Sherlock couldn't help but smile at that. Molly doing experiments as a child. It was a nice picture to imagine.

"Why did you never tell me this Molly?"

"It… uhm… it never came up. Plus you don't really listen to what I say or you tell me to be quiet when I am talking because it disturbs your thinking." Sherlock looked down ashamed. Was he really that disrespectful towards Molly? Does she not know how much she matters? He told her once, maybe she has forgotten.

Sherlock quietly responded with, "I do listen to you what say."

"I… uhm… oh, well thank you. But, uh… yeah. I used to do experiments and autopsies on all kinds of animals and insects. That plus my obsession with death made me want to be a pathologist."

"Obsession with death?"

"Well maybe obsession is a strong word. My interest. I have always been very interested in death. Maybe it was because I watched my father die slowly. I don't really know. But come on Sherlock I work with the dead. I obviously have to have an interest with them."

Sherlock knew that of course. He always noticed her acute curiosity with every victim that came into her morgue. She was relatively unemotional with most of the victims, unless it was a brutal serial killer or any case that had to do with children. She looked at each victim with curious eyes and excitement. He never thought about that before. She always seemed just as excited as him about each case and victim. Maybe Molly Hooper was way less ordinary than he had originally thought.

Mrs. Johnson interrupted his thought process, "I thought she was going to end up committing murder this week just so would have something interesting to do."

"Ah. Yes. I definitely thought about it a few times. Every time mother made me try on a new article of clothing I thought of a different way to kill her. They got more and more interesting each time."

Yes. Very unordinary. Why had he never noticed this about her before? He had known her for years.

"Oh dear your mother would have a fit about that. She already thought you were going to end up being a serial killer when she found you killing that rat you found in the basement."

Sherlock scoffed at that. Molly a serial killer? The idea seemed very farfetched and unlikely.

"Oh yes. I know." Molly then changed her voice. Obviously trying to convey her mothers, "Mary! What are you doing! Did you know that animal torture is one of the leading connections to serial killers! No daughter of mine will end up behind bars. What would happen to our reputation if that happened?!" Molly stopped talking and frowned for half a second before adding, "That's when she took away my autopsy tools. That was one of the saddest moments of my life." Her small bottom lip came puffing out as she fake pouted. Sherlock caught himself staring at it. His eyes then traveled up and caught her questioning ones. Before he could respond to the earlier conversation about Molly being sadistic or try to cover up him looking at her lips they were interrupted by a very flustered John.

"You have to text me more than just, 'meet me in the kitchen. ASAP.' Do you have any idea how big this place is? How the bloody hell did Molly live her. And how on earth did you not deduce it."

Before Sherlock could say something Molly choked out an apology, "I am so sorry I never told you guys. I didn't really think it would be that big of deal."

"Yeah! But you even lied about your name. Like that's big, are you running from something? Trust me, if you are Mary and you should have a nice little chat."

"Uhm, no. I am not running from anything. And Molly Hooper is my real name. Molly is a nickname for Mary and I kept my father's last name after my mom remarried so I am still a Hooper. It's just that Mary is more formal and I go by my step dad's last name here so people will know who I am."

Sherlock still felt uneasy for not deducing all of this. There is always that one thing he misses. Although he's beginning to see that he has missed a lot when it comes to Molly. "Ah yes that all makes sense, now John lets tell you our plan."

"Uhm, Sherlock. You need to unzip my dress." Molly repeated to Sherlock. He was still in shock from hearing her say it the first time. His eyes searched to Mrs. Johnson who was far too busy making the desert for the ball. His eyes searched John next who was busily getting the equipment ready to wire her.

"I uh… yes. Of course." At this exact moment Sherlock understood why Molly's cheeks burned when he mentioned putting a wire on her. He placed an unsteady hand on her shoulder and another on the zipper.

He began unzipping her dress. Slowly. It was torture. He should have just done it quickly but he didn't want the zipper to break. He had never done this before. Undressing a woman. It was all so new to him. He didn't understand why his heart seemed like it had stopped one moment and then the next it was beating extremely fast against his chest.

His eyebrows shot up and he tried his hardest not to gasp when her back was revealed. It had 8 scars across it. Sherlock felt as though they were shaped like whip marks. Only three of them where prominent the other five were hardly noticeable to the untrained eye. He slid the zipper all the way until it stopped. Which was right above her butt. If she bent just a millimeter. Sherlock shook his head trying to get the image out of it.

"You-uhm… you done there Sherlock?"

"I-uh- yes. Yes. I am."

"Oh. Okay."

His eyes bulged out of socked while she slowly, not to rip or harm the dress, got her arms out of the sleeves and pushed the top of her dress down to right under her belly button. His eyes then searched her front next. He noticed a birthmark under her belly button and to the right. Right on her hip bone. A mole that was in the middle of her stomach about half way In between her belly button and her breasts. His eyes went up even further and took in her bra. It was black and strapless. He had incorrect information in his mind palace. He had her breasts at a 34 A but now that she wasn't in her baggy clothes he could tell that she was actually a 30 B. They were even close to being a C. He traveled up her neck. Her lips. They were small. But he had also been wrong about them being too small. They were kind of perfect in their own little Molly way. When he made eye contact with her he could see the questioning in her eyes. He had clearly been staring for a while and it must have been quiet obvious.

"I-uh. Mind Palace information." He defended. It was not a lie.

"I'm in your mind palace?"

Was she really that daft? He had told her she mattered. That she counted. Why would she not think she was in his mind palace? Mind Palace Molly had even saved his life once when he got shot. "Of course."

"Oh. By the way I-uhm-I am sorry."

"What are you sorry for?" Sherlock asked confused.

"I know how much you don't like touching people. And plus that must have been uncomfortable for you."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at her. He didn't understand why he was angry at her for thinking that. He was not uncomfortable with touching. He just didn't understand the constant need for it. Molly was right though. He had been uncomfortable when he was unzipping her. But not wanting to touch her was not the cause. It was for the exact opposite reason. He wanted to touch her. Every part of her skin. He had never seen bare back. Or her only in a bra. It was all new to him. He was trying to take it all in. The birthmark she had on her hipbone. The scars she had on her back. The fact that her stomach was even paler than the rest of her. The only woman he had seen like that, with less than that, was Irene Alder and he hadn't wanted to see that. But Molly was different. He actually wanted to. And it scared him.

"It was necessary" he replied back gruffly and turned around so he wouldn't have to think about her in that way anymore.