Disclaimer: I own nothing of Sherlock BBC and/or James Bond movies.
Molly Hooper was comfortable with the idea of eating alone. The habit arose from her irregular eating hours due to the rotating duty roster of hospital shifts. It was also faster, eating alone so disregarding the pitying look from the waiter, Molly read the menu before making a quick decision to have medium rare streak and a glass of red wine for her dinner.
The pathologist was taking a leisure stroll along the famous river Seine and enjoying the night scene when a shadow attracted her attention. Molly was not sure why she chased after the shadow but she still did it anyway. "I'm picking up Sherlock's tendency to dive head first into danger," the pathologist mumbled as she followed the shadow to the poorly lit back alleys.
The sounds made were soft but clear enough for Molly to realize that they were bullets fired, probably from guns with silencers. Things one could learn from a consulting detective. Molly managed to wedge herself in between two brick walls and as the shadow half-ran half-stumbled along the cobbled streets, the pathologist reached out her hand to drag the arm that she caught into the tiny space with her.
"I'm not going to hurt you," she spoke quietly to him when a group of men walked past them. They were shouting in various foreign languages and split into smaller groups to better search for the man that Molly apparently just rescued. Eventually, the footsteps faded away. Their chests were heaving, his from exhaustion while hers from relief and their harsh breathing mingled from the close proximity.
They were pressed up against each other; every move however slight could be felt by the other person. What a way to meet someone for the first time. After subjecting Molly with his scrutinizing 'scan' which reminded her of Sherlock, the man edged out of their hiding place. He looked around warily then signalled to the pathologist that it was safe to come out.
"Are you alright? Do you-" The rest of Molly's sentence was interrupted by the shots from the men who were sure that they missed something and turned back. The man in his tuxedo cursed and grabbing the pathologist's hand, began to run in earnest. Molly could literally hear the bullets whizzing past her ears until one of them came into contact with her shoulder, "Argh." He turned his head to Molly and cursed again.
The pair took four consecutive sharp turns and finally arrived at the main street. They entered a nearby pub and ignoring the numerous protests erupted from the queue, he pulled the pathologist into the only restroom. The man briefly examined Molly's injury, "Flesh wound," and tied a strip of cloth around her shoulder to stop the bleeding for the time being. She winced at the pressure applied to the injury and muttered, "What about you? Are you wounded?"
He gave Molly an odd look then shook his head. Someone banged on the door with vengeance and screamed in French, "Enough with the toilet sex! There are people here who actually need to pee!" The pathologist was glad that the restroom's lighting was not very good so she could hide her blush. He draped his jacket on the pathologist to cover her bloodied shirt and opened the door.
Throwing a glance at the long queue, the man kissed Molly on the lips that seemed to further exasperate the crowd and of course, caught the pathologist completely off guard. "What was that for?" she whispered angrily and he replied, "Adding substance to our cover story. I believe we have gotten them off our tails but to be safe, we are going to my bolthole to treat that wound of yours." Right, another reminder of Sherlock Holmes.
It was not an abandoned mansion or one of the rooms in a brothel, his bolthole was in fact an ordinary one-room flat with a connecting bathroom. "Take a seat," he gestured to the well-worn couch and came out of the bathroom, carrying a first aid box. Molly sat down as instructed but gingerly. Amused, the man cocked an eyebrow at the pathologist. "Afraid that I will kiss you again?" He admired how prettily she blushed. "I'm not going to; unless you ask then I would have to otherwise it would be rude of me."
Molly understood that he was merely trying to distract her from the pain yet she could not help and hiss a little. The man looked up, "Sorry, it's the first time I'm treating someone else's injury." He was almost finished with the stitching and the pathologist said, "But you are used to be treated for your injuries." The comment was neither confirmed nor denied, not that it was required. "How do you know you saved the good one? You did not even ask for my name."
"I know I saved the right man and I'm Molly Hooper." He smirked at the pathologist's naïve answer. Nonetheless, the man gave her his name. "Bond, James Bond." Molly inspected the spy's handiwork and considered her words carefully. "Call me a busybody but I think the person that you lost wouldn't want you to be so reckless and die as a result." Bond stood up to put some distance between them, "I would have to agree with you, Miss Hooper that unfortunately you are far too assuming on things you know absolutely nothing about."
The pathologist knew she hit a spot painful enough to warrant such a reaction from him. "M would upset to see you in this state, Mr Bond." He moved towards to her; his every step exuded danger, "Who are you exactly? And before you answer my question, keep in mind that I can easily kill you."
Molly calmly met his eyes, "No one important and I'm not doubting your capability to kill but you wouldn't…He was like you, didn't give a damn about his own life, like it no longer mattered because he lost his world and that knocked him off balance. I lost count how many times I found him lying on my kitchen floor, bleeding and unconscious and then I would have to try my hardest just to keep him alive."
He chuckled sarcastically, "Was that why you saved me? Because your maternal instincts were acting up?" She murmured, "When M was still alive, when I occasionally moonlighted for her, M told me that out of all the double 0s, she was most concerned about you so for her sake, do take more care, Mr Bond."
"As usual, how presumptuous of you, Miss Hooper. Should I consider the option of silencing you with a kiss?" The spy asked as he inched closer to her face. "Well, how presumptuous of you, Mr Bond to think that you can keep me quiet with your kiss." His lips curled up slowly, "If I were to kiss you, Miss Hooper, I assure you that you will not be quiet about it." Bond wondered if her blush could turn any shade deeper. "O-once again, how presumptuous of you, Mr Bond." Molly shut her eyes in embarrassment at her weak retort.
He pulled back at the very last moment and walked away, "Get some sleep; I will escort you to the Embassy first thing in the morning." The pathologist touched her burning cheeks and exhaled audibly. M did warn her about 007 and his ways should she ever encounter that man.
Safely inside the Embassy, Molly felt the need to caution the spy. "Mr Bond, I'm a pathologist so I hope I will never see you again." He left after saying casually, "More's the pity. I would love to see you again, Miss Hooper but preferably not in the manner of being sent to your morgue." It would be interesting for the two men to meet, Molly thought while rubbing her aching shoulder absentmindedly.
"What are you doing here, Sherlock? Are you hurt?" She was surprised to find the consulting detective in her flat during this time of the day. Sure, this was his bolthole, it had been so for the past two years but Sherlock usually would only come here at night. "I'm fine; I just wanted to make sure that you are too, Molly." And with those words, the agony that he put her through by helping him to fake his death and keeping him 'dead' dissipated. What a fool she was, a fool in love.
Author's note: The chapters are not in chorological order and I just thought it would be cool if Molly worked part-time for M in the past, nothing too dangerous though :)