Note: Your nice reviews made my day! Thanks soo much. Here is the next chapter. A little more about the case and Molly's date with David.
Sherlock and John found themselves in the third funeral home. The taller man started to believe that very specific character traits were needed to take up the profession of undertaker in Leeds. He almost couldn't tell the men in their worn suits apart.
The night before he had explained to John how the corpses had been stolen without much of a mess. They were not taken from their coffins but with their coffins. Sherlock had found that the footsteps of the two intruders showed another pattern and were impressed further into the carpet. They had been carrying something heavy on their way out. Also, he had found clear signs that the coffins they had found in the first home had not been closed and opened more than once. The screws had shown distinct patterns proving this.
"So, each coffin has been replaced with completely the same model so that not even the director of the funeral home would know they had been swapped? Why would someone make that much of an effort to steal some dead people?" John had asked.
"That's what I am also asking myself. But, this means that the people who stole the bodies probably did not have any monetary incentives. A coffin is rather expensive. Plus, they seemingly had every type at hand. They weren't taking the corpses for illegal organ trades or something similar," Sherlock had stated, "The fact that they were not taking every corpse also supports this notion. But, taking it further, I am still in the dark."
Now, the two men were standing in front of the third funeral home director in a room that looked excruciatingly like the first two 'coffin rooms'. Sherlock just cast a quick look down and nodded confidently. "The same men," he informed Sergeant Cooper who wasn't surprised and nodded.
"According to my deductions about their height, how they are built, and the injury of one of them, I would say the are quite butch types. Probably from a criminal but not a highly professionalised background. Interestingly, though, they used gloves not to leave prints and even wore full body suits. No hairs or other genetic markers are to be found. And, see, the footprints are a little rough around the edges. Even their shoes were wrapped in a protective cover."
The fourth funeral home did not hold any more information (safe from a director that looked like he could be a twin of the first one they had met). So, Sherlock and John were on a train heading south again on late Thursday evening. They spent the journey mostly in silence with one or two thrown in remarks about ill-fitting suits in the Leeds burying industry.
_.:0:._
Friday afternoon. 4.42 pm. Molly had left work early today so she would not have to rush whilst showering and getting dressed. Now she was rushing into the shower anyway. There was no need to but she just could not keep calm. There were only a little more than three hours left before David would pick her up and take her out. A proper date. How long has it been since she had one? She couldn't remember.
After leaving her shower she stood in front of the bathroom mirror, staring into it. "I am still smelling of death, right?", she asked her reflection. It nodded in agreement. In an instant, she was back behind the blue curtains and turned on the water. She let it get as hot as she could bare it and scrubbed her arms and legs frantically. When she was done showering for a second time and wrapped in a towel, she turned to the mirror. "Better, isn't it?" Again, a nod. "You know, I bought the damn cat to not have to have crazy conversations with my own reflection and now he's always roaming the streets, probably getting a lot more action than I do. Not surprising, though." And with that, she turned her head on the sarcastic face in the mirror and put on her underwear.
She had deliberately not chosen particularly nice underwear. The tactic worked for her on first dates. Every time she was tempted to take someone home with her she would remember her panties and be embarrassed about their enormous size. Also, she had not shaved her legs very accurately. Just to make sure.
David was a really, really nice guy. But she did not want to come across as easy. If they were ever going to tell their grandchildren about their first date, she wouldn't want to have to think back to a drunken quickie in a cab (well, of course she would NEVER tell something like that to her grandchildren).
She left the bathroom still in her underwear and went into her bedroom. Searching her wardrobe for something to wear she hummed quietly. Now, what to wear? Not too everyday, not too special.
After an intense hour, Molly had dismissed four pairs of jeans, seven tops, three skirts and the amazing amount of nine dresses. Two of them she didn't even remember buying. The tenth dress, however, was the winner. It wasn't a pompous evening dress, neither was it too flimsy. It was of a dark purple colour without any prints, lace or other extra stuff, the hem just covering her knees. The v-neck was showing just the right amount of cleavage (the kind that a man doesn't notice if he doesn't look but that still rewards the observer when she's sitting slightly bent forward with elbows on the table).
After another half hour she had decided against any kind of jewellery and put on decent make up and a bit of her favourite perfume. Now, she was sitting on her bed, waiting, her head impressively empty.
_.:0:._
Eight o'clock. Molly stood in front of her open fridge assessing the need for another mars bar when she heard the bell. Don't panic now! You have managed far worse situations than a date with a nice guy. Just because it has been…. "Oh my god, don't start thinking about how long it has been." And don't start finishing your thoughts out loud when David is around.
She took two deep breaths and walked towards the door, pushing a button to let him into the building. He's in. You've got roughly 46 seconds to stop being a mess and begin being an attractive, interesting woman. Go!
When the blonde man stood in front of her with a warm smile on his face she felt almost ready for the date. He stared at her in awe, admiring her dress and almost forgot to say something. Realising this, he coughed, looked to the floor and said, "Hello Molly, you look beautiful." It didn't sound corny, just… honest. That was when she decided that she actually could be an attractive, interesting woman.
David was not an obviously pretty but all the more handsome man. He had distinct features. Big brow ridges framed his dark brown eyes. His nose was big, but not abnormally so. His full lips opened slightly when he continued taking in her looks admiringly. They were, however, not the thing catching most of Molly's attention. As he was very tall, his rather impressively muscular shoulders dominated her sight at eye level. They looked like the perfect shoulders to lean on. She oppressed the urge to put her forehead onto the spot between his shoulders and his neck. Slowly, Molly. You've got a whole evening of potentially creepy actions ahead of you. Don't shoot your wad just now.
He had brought her a little present and was now shyly holding the small package out to her. "You shouldn't have…" was all she could whisper in surprise. When she removed the paper and opened the box, she couldn't believe her eyes. Inside was a thin silver necklace with a pendant she recognised as a tiny microscope. She laughed heartily at this.
"Whenever we were talking on the phone you were at work, and it seemed as if you really love what you do," David explained, "so, I thought this was a nice present when I saw it in a window." Molly looked up at him. That was so thoughtful. Her mouth was open but she couldn't say anything right away.
David was getting a bit nervous when she continued staring without speaking. "Erm, it's all right if you don't like it. You don't have to…"
"No, it's great. Thank you so much. It's just,… no one has ever put so much thought in getting me something for a first date. Could you help me put it on?" With that, she turned her back to him and brushed her long hair to the side. David took the necklace out of its box and reached around her head to position it on her neck. She felt that he was slightly trembling when he closed the clasp and a small smile crossed her face.
_.:0:._
David had chosen a nice restaurant. They were sitting opposite each other and enjoyed the food, the wine and each other's company. Molly studied his features again while he was telling her about his work for the British Consulate in Melbourne. His face was still tanned. After all, he had just left the Australian summer a few weeks ago. Oh, he is just soooo unlike… stop it. No thinking about him now!
"It's actually rather boring but no one believes this once they hear the sentence 'I work for the government in international relations'. Everyone immediately thinks I'm some kind of spy," he shook his head in amusement, "but no matter how boring the job, Australia is rather nice, especially as I was able to train regularly. My life just feels incomplete if I can't swim once or twice a week."
Explains the amazing shoulders!, Molly thought dreamily.
A huge grin spread across David's face. "I guess it does!"
So much for not thinking out loud when he's around…
_.:0:._
At the same time, John was standing in front of the counter in the kitchen, watching the water boiler. Two cups were waiting to be filled with tea. Sherlock stood in the middle of the living room, eyes locked on the wall, which was full of pictures from the funeral homes and scribbled notes. The blue dressing gown hang open and his light green pyjamas were showing. He was staring at the list of the missing corpses that was delivered earlier that day, in a big box alongside various folders full of data on every body. Sergeant Cooper had indeed found a respectable amount of information on them. That is good. Now I just need to find the solution like I usually do, Sherlock thought confidently. Another thought immediately seemed to answer this first one. Why am I trying to convince myself that I will find the missing piece? I am myself; I know that I am not really concentrating enough. He had dreamed again. The same dream, the third night in a row. Of course, he hadn't told John about this. He would just start interpreting it again and assume he harboured some peculiar feelings. This wasn't what he needed right now. He needed to concentrate on this.
John had silently set their cups on the table in the living room. He knew that it wasn't a good idea to talk to Sherlock when he was in this state. So, he just sat down on the sofa to wait for his friend to erupt with some information, as he was sure he would. The detective's face looked exerted.
Sherlock had decided that it was best not to go to the morgue for a bit, at least until he figured out how to get rid of these disturbing dreams. This is the exact reason why I do not do this… caring. Because it takes your mind away from focussing on really important matters. He had thought that John had a point when he told him friendships weren't going to destroy his genius. That's why he sent the text. Initially, he even thought it a good idea to prevent Molly from being mad at him. But she had not replied. After thinking about what the lack of an answer could mean he took the decision of not going to visit her until she just disappeared from his mind again. But what, if he needed something from the lab? The damn hospital had a rather nice array of instruments. Plus, he had to admit that Molly was a very good pathologist. Not many … Wait!, he thought.
"Ha! How very obvious," Sherlock said out loud. He stepped closer to the wall, eyes darting across the list of bodies. "And, …oh yes," a grin spread on his face. John had gotten up and joined him. Both now standing inches from the list, Sherlock turned his head and said, "Two things. I know why these specific bodies were taken. And, there will be more missing corpses."
Little heads up: In the next chapter, Molly and Sherlock will finally meet again.
Tell me what you thought about this one. Hopefully, I'll be able to write the next chapter quickly.