Sherlock sat alone in 221b, John had left, probably annoyed at something. Sherlock concentrated on a rather baffling case, a young woman; a pathologist nonetheless, was found shot outside her own doorstep a month ago. Apparently this woman had few friends and kept herself to herself. Lestrade seemed to be personally affected by the case as did John. Sherlock simply searched for connections within the mind blowing amount of information he already had. When he simply breezed past the young woman's hospital room both Lestrade and John had gawped at him, their eyes questioning.
Sherlock was confused, this was just another case, and he felt little emotion for this woman who lay unmoving in the hospital wing. He had been told she was awake but as of yet was unable to communicate with anyone. Sherlock only felt the smallest of shivers when her deep brown eyes turned and scanned him, before the young woman sighed and turned away. Turning to John he asked if there was any possibility that the young woman had seen her assailant, the doctor simply shook his head and asked how Sherlock was coping. Sherlock Holmes sighed, wondering what concern this mousy woman was to him.
Molly Hooper sighed, all these people kept wandering into her room, she couldn't speak to them on account of her breathing equipment and she didn't recognise a lot of them. The nurses kept saying that her condition was improving, and that most of her memory loss was only likely to be short term, but in the meantime she watched the unknown people enter and exit her room with dissipating interest.
The man in the long coat had come in again yesterday, with two others, the grey haired one had asked how she was doing, and she simply scowled, trying to assimilate who he might be. The shortest of the three looked aghast at her condition, and seemed intent on asking after her care; at a guess she would pitch this man as some kind of doctor. As for the third man, she wasn't entirely sure; when he entered she felt a peculiar sense of de ja vue, but that quickly passed as he coldly assessed her condition, his stony eyes giving nothing away.
Later on the nurses told her that those were her friends and that a Dr Watson had suggested some more communication therapy if her condition didn't improve. The grey haired man was apparently one DI Greg Lestrade, another name that meant little to her, although she had some kind of niggling memory about coffee. And the third man was Sherlock Holmes, rather unfeeling fellow according to the head nurse, he hadn't mentioned knowing her at all. For this name there was no memory's in Molly's Mind Morgue, although she got the feeling that there should have been…
Sherlock Holmes was frustrated, he was getting no where in this idiotic case, it should have been solved within minutes, and yet here he was, staring at the case file, trying to decipher DI Lestrade's appalling writing, without a body he could deduce very little, and when he had visited the crime scene he found that that idiot Anderson had already blundered all over it. It was puzzling to him why the young woman was a target, as far as he could discern she was a woman who kept polite company, lived on her own, and hadn't been involved in any wrong doing. For once Sherlock Holmes was confused, he must solve this case, although he was as of yet unsure why, flicking through her personal description he came across a newspaper article which made his blood run cold.
YOUNG PATHOLOGIST AIDS CONSULTING DETECTIVE IN NEW CASE.
Sherlock Holmes felt a shiver of dread run through his whole body; suddenly deleting some of his files didn't seem like such a good idea.