A/N - Thanks to my reviewers Dasherz365 ad Zora Arian, you guys are awesome! Some humour in this chapter cos boy is there a lot of angst to come! Read and Review! Enjoy!
Thanks to the wonderful TruffleHead, my beta.
Disclaimer - I still don't own Sherlock.
Molly's eyes fluttered open as the first beams of sunlight shone through her blinds and danced upon her dainty features. Stifling a yawn, she smiled wearily as she remembered where she was: wrapped in Steve's arms. She was currently cocooned in a blanket of warmth and just the thought of having to get up made her grimace.
She glanced to her alarm clock- it was five minutes to six. Good, that meant she could have another five warm minutes in bed before, inevitably, she had to get up.
Molly could feel Steve's chest gently rise and fall as he snoozed beside her; he wasn't an early riser, unlike her, and if she'd let him, he would gladly sleep late into the afternoon. She didn't mind, though. She overlooked all of Steve's minor faults and instead took in the bigger picture of the man curled around her.
He was nothing like Sherlock- that much was for sure. Steve was slightly smaller height wise, but he was easily more muscular than Sherlock, even if he did hide it under granddad vests and knitted jumpers. Steve was also caring and kind- something Sherlock never was. All Sherlock ever did was cut her down with his cruel deductions and derisive snorts; he would even bloody /manipulate/ her to get what he wanted. How had she ever fallen for that?
Steve epitomised Molly's dream man; she could actually see a future with him. She could get married to this man, have a couple of kids, buy a bigger house, and then, /most/ importantly, live happily ever after. Molly giggled at her childish notion and reached out a hand to switch off her alarm's incessant beeping.
"Morning," Steve said groggily, shaking off the last remnants of sleep.
"Morning," Molly replied cheerfully, smiling up at Steve.
"What time is it?" Steve said, giving a bright smile in return.
"Six o'clock. Go back to bed, you don't have to be up for another hour. You're grumpy if you don't get enough sleep." Molly said teasingly as she kissed his forehead. Silently, she slipped out of bed and headed towards the bathroom. She needed to shower and eat before work, she told her tired limbs. She had a feeling today was going to be a long day, she already knew a stack of paperwork was waiting was patiently waiting for her to sort through it.
She took one last look at Steve, asleep and now snoring softly against his pillow, and then closed the bathroom door as quietly as she could, a contented smile spread across her face.
"John, wake up. The sooner we get this over with, the better." Grumbled Sherlock, all but dragging a sleepy John from the train. John had dozed off about fifteen minutes after they left London, leaving Sherlock to entertain himself for the next seven hours and forty-five minutes of the train journey to Edinburgh. Selfish.
The scenery had been dull on the train journey, and after going past the sixty-seventh field and the four-hundred-and-eighty-seventh sheep, Sherlock had given up looking out the window and instead turned his attention to the people sitting in the train carriage. After giving them a once over, he realized that the people were all as dull as the scenery.
There was a family of four consisting of a husband, wife, and two noisy children sitting down one end of the carriage, and down the other were three nuns talking excitedly about something that had obviously piqued their interest. In the two seats across from himself and John sat a woman of about forty years old who seemed to of taken an interest in Sherlock judging by the way she kept glancing at him over the top of her thick-rimmed glasses, and in the other seat sat a plump businessman who was clicking away on a laptop, obviously checking emails and sending out instructions to his subordinates. The rest of the carriage was empty, save for the automatic toilet that occupied a large space beside the family of four.
So, it was safe to say Sherlock was elated when they finally got off the train, hence his dragging of John down the platform, and then out of the train station altogether.
"Right, so, what's the plan?" John asked, the fresh air bringing him to his senses.
"We find a cab and head to the medical supplies offices; I believe they are not far from here. Then we will acquire a list of employees, and by the names I will work out who the smugglers are. They are obviously working at the offices, probably in the shipping department, although I wouldn't rule out the involvement of someone higher up in the company. If we bring one of them in, they will most likely confess the names of their associates as they are amateur criminals and will be scared by the prospect of jail. The case will be done, and then we can get back to London." Sherlock explained as he looked around and took in the most obvious landmarks.
There were plenty black taxis about, so Sherlock thought that it shouldn't be too hard to flag one down. Sherlock stuck out his hand as a taxi whizzed past him, not bothering to stop for him or to even acknowledge him. Another taxi then hurtled past his hand followed in quick succession by another two, who didn't stop for him either. Sherlock was silently aware of John giggling to the side of him. Sherlock sent him his best cold stare and turned his attention back to the road where yet more taxis were bypassing him. Was there a different hand signal in Scotland when one wanted a taxi?
Sherlock was so astonished, he didn't notice when John stuck out his hand, only to have a taxi stop right beside him.
Sherlock followed John into the taxi, quickly gave the driver the address, and then turned his attention to the window, as John was still giggling childishly.
"Well, looks like I've got the magic touch in Scotland." Blabbed John as he thought about his friend's inability to flag down a taxi.
"Yes, well," Snorted Sherlock, refusing to look at John, slightly put out by his failure.
The rest of the taxi journey was spent in an agreeable silence.
A short twenty minutes later, Sherlock and John were striding into the metallic offices of the dodgy medical supplies company. Sherlock strode up to the receptionist, who happened to be a very harsh looking ginger woman in her late 50's, and put on his most endearing smile.
"Hello, we are hoping to see someone who can help with our investigation." Sherlock said, leaning on the desk. He was going to have to work hard to get this woman to co-operate, as her husband had just left her judging by the ring indent on her marriage finger.
"What are your names?" She asked in a broad Scottish accent.
"I am Sherlock Holmes, and this is Dr John Watson, my colleague." Sherlock said, indicating to the doctor who was standing to his right.
"What are you here for; you mentioned an investigation?"
"Ah yes, we are here as part of Scotland Yard, sent to investigate a drugs ring that we believe might be operating in this building."
"We had a phone call to tell us you would be coming. Sit over there and wait for a company representative who will be coming down to meet you." The woman said, pointing to a small waiting area with five square chairs and a plastic shrub.
Two hours and five Scottish people later, they were finally going to meet the head of human resources, who they were reliably informed could "get ye yer list o' employees" and would be able to help should they need more information.
As they were being led down a pale grey corridor that was lined with offices on both sides, the current office worker felt the need to talk.
"You'll like her; she's originally from London, and actually very kind. That's more than can be said about most people here. Well, I suppose I would consider myself as kind, as well," The woman said, and Sherlock silently rolled his eyes, "Actually, if you wanted, I could give you a list of at least thirty people that could be classed as 'dodgy'. You know, just to speed the investigation along a bit."
"Yes, thank you for your input, but seeing as we are solving a case based on facts and not who you wish to bunk off, we shall not be needing your little list." Sherlock replied cuttingly. He had had quite enough of getting shunted around; he just wanted to obtain the list and leave.
The office worker regarded Sherlock with a raised eyebrow. "Well here we are then, I'll just leave you to it." She snapped, beating a hasty retreat and muttering curses to herself as she went. Sherlock sighed and made to open the door.
"Sherlock, you have to knock first!" Ordered John, making Sherlock roll his eyes; he wasn't used to obeying social niceties.
Sherlock knocked on the door sarcastically, if that was even possible, waited until he heard someone shout come in from inside the office, and then decided to enter purposefully; he wanted to get this over as quickly as he could.
"I am Sherlock Holmes. I require a list of all your employees, if you will." Sherlock said to the back of a woman who looked strangely familiar, but he couldn't quite place her. It was as if he was seeing a slightly different version of someone who he knew, but couldn't put his finger on exactly who- it was extremely irritating.
The woman froze and calmly put down the paperwork she had been re-organising on her desk. She exhaled slowly as she turned around, her heart still not quite believing it was who her brain said it was. But her eyes could not be lied to. It was him.
"Sherlock?" Molly squeaked, barely audible over the sound of the heartbeat pounding in her chest.
Realisation dawned on Sherlock the moment she turned round, "Molly?" He gasped, not willing to believe his eyes.
Note - See that little review button? Yeah, that one, down there. Give it a click please? I'd be ever so grateful!