A/N: Hello again! Just wanted to say thank you to all those who reviewed my work, and a big HI to those who just started following this story. ;)
Disclaimer: I do not own BBC Sherlock, but I wish I did.
Two months passed rather uneventfully. Sherlock was now fully recovered and was expecting to leave the country soon on his first undercover assignment. The short time spent with him had made Molly much more comfortable and confident in his presence. She rarely stammered around him anymore, and even though he still managed to make her flustered at times, he did it out of playful teasing.
She realised he wasn't as difficult to live with as she had initially thought. While he would suddenly turn moody and refuse to eat, she had learnt to detect the warning signs and stayed clear of him during those days. She also learnt to negotiate with him, offering him body parts for experiments if he behaved himself. Her kitchen was in a horrible mess, but she figured it was a fair bargain. Rather a chaotic kitchen than no peace at all.
Molly hummed a few bars of a pop song absently while she tidied her desk, ready to go for her lunch break. Just as she was almost done, she heard her lab doors swing open and she poked her head out of her office to investigate. Standing in her lab was her boss, Mike, and the last person she thought she would see again.
"Hello, Molly," Mike greeted her amicably. "Just wanted to introduce you to the new pathologist from Royal London Hospital."
Molly couldn't help the grin that spread across her face, and the new pathologist mirrored her expression.
"Hey Joe," she stuck out her hand in greeting and he shook it. Mike looked to the two of them in confusion before realising that they had met before. He muttered something about being late for his lunch and excused himself.
"I didn't know you were a pathologist too!" she exclaimed, once Mike was gone. "What made you leave RLH?"
"I just fancied a new environment," he smiled happily at her. "Going for lunch then?"
"Yes, do you want to join me? I haven't thanked you properly for helping me that night."
His light brown eyes brightened at her offer. "Love to."
Sherlock couldn't stop the corner of his lips from twitching when he saw Mycroft's face. His brother was staring in disbelief at the person sitting across him. He could almost hear the wheels turning in his brother's mind as he processed the situation.
Mycroft cleared his throat. "I see you're alive and well, Miss Adler."
The Woman smirked. "I would hope so. I don't quite believe in ghosts, do you?"
"And you trust her, Sherlock?" Mycroft asked him solemnly. He could tell his older brother was apprehensive about the Woman, and he couldn't really blame him after what had happened.
"No," he answered truthfully, which drew a scowl from Irene. "But she owes me a favour and she will repay that debt. And she is a skilled blackmailer, just what we need."
Mycroft pinched the bridge of nose in resignation. He could see the logic behind this decision. Irene, as much as she enjoyed games and manipulation, was not one who loved being indebted to others. Until this debt was paid, she could be trusted to be on their side.
"Fine," he relented. "But any sign that you are playing on Moran's side, and I will disclose your identity to certain people, Miss Adler."
"Understood, Mr Holmes," she said, her eyes darkening at the threat. "Now, what's the plan?"
Mycroft took a file from his briefcase, setting it on Molly's coffee table. "My men have found a few names. Both Sherlock and you will go undercover to see if they are indeed part of Moran's inner circle. If they are, you two are to report to me at once and let me handle it from there. They are the only way we can discover Moran's true location."
"Ok, so where are we going?" Irene asked, looking at Sherlock.
"We are not going together, Woman," he smirked. "I'll be going to Scotland. You are going to take a little trip to Eastern Europe. I think my dear brother here would prefer it if you were as far away from Britain as possible." He saw Mycroft smile slightly. "I hope you love Goulash."
"Oh, don't worry Mr Holmes," she smiled, her fingers tracing patterns along his knuckles. Sherlock suppressed the urge to move his hand away. "I love Goulash. Hungary has its charm."
Mycroft clicked his tongue impatiently. "I need you two to be careful. These are mostly men of power and prestige, not low-end criminals. Do not do anything stupid."
Irene sighed dramatically. "I am many things, Mr Holmes. But stupid is not one of them." Sherlock secretly agreed with her.
"When are we leaving?" he asked his brother.
"Tomorrow."
Molly was hoping to relax with a good book and some hot chamomile tea. It had been a while since she had some personal time, seeing how Sherlock would always interrupt her for something. But she was going to put her foot down today. Going through a huge stack of paper work and two autopsies had taken their toll on her. She mentally prepared herself for whatever Sherlock might've done to her flat during her absence.
She froze at the doorway when she saw the scene in front of her.
A very well-endowed woman with dark, wavy hair was sitting on her sofa, flipping through the channels on the telly with a bored expression.
And she was utterly nude.
Molly clapped her hands to her mouth to stifle a scream. The woman looked up at her with amusement dancing in her blue eyes. She stood up gracefully and sauntered over, completely unperturbed by the fact that she wasn't wearing anything.
"You must be Molly Hooper. My my, look at that precious face," the woman purred seductively, running her slim fingers across Molly's cheeks. "So innocent. The things I would do to you. You're a screamer, I can -"
Her sentence was cut short by Sherlock, who came out the bedroom looking extremely annoyed. Molly's eyes widened when she saw that he had cut his thick curls away and had dyed his hair a light brown. She secretly mourned the passing of his trademark curly hair. But she conceded that he still looked rather dashing.
"I would appreciate it if you stayed away from her, Woman," he said.
"Oh dear. Jealous now, are we?" the woman teased. She was still standing very close to Molly, who was finding it a bit difficult to formulate any coherent thought.
"Excuse me, but who are you?" Molly finally managed to ask.
"Irene Adler, love. I'm Sherlock's old friend, here to help him with the network." She leaned in to press a soft kiss near the side of Molly's lips, making her blush.
"Irene Adler?" The name sounded vaguely familiar to Molly. Then, it hit her. "You were dead on my slab about half a year ago!"
"Fantastic memory. But I'm not dead, as you can clearly see," Irene winked at her. "Pulled the same prank your handsome boyfriend here did."
Molly was too stunned to correct her. Did people here even die anymore? And wasn't Sherlock supposed to be Irene's boyfriend? She surmised as much after he had identified her body from not her face, which had been badly bashed up at the time.
"And don't mind my nudity," Irene whispered into her ear, her hot breath making the pathologist shiver slightly. "I just hate wearing clothes at night, don't you?"
Sherlock came forward and yanked Molly away from Irene, his eyes smouldering with anger. "That's enough," he said warningly.
Irene pouted at the angry look on Sherlock's face. "Oh Mr Holmes, you should really try to be a little friendlier. Might do you some good."
Sherlock was just about to retort when Molly cut in. She needed to know what the hell was going on before she continued looking the fool. "Irene, I understand you're helping Sherlock, but what are you doing in my house?"
"Well, Mr Holmes and I have to leave for our assignments tomorrow, so I'm just staying the night. Hope you don't mind, darling. I have nowhere else to go. I'm not from London, you see."
"Staying the night?"
"Yes. Didn't Sherlock tell you?"
"No," she replied, turning to frown at the man beside her, who merely shrugged. "But where are you going to sleep?"
Irene smiled mischievously before moving closer to Molly again. "I can share the bed with you. It'll just be us girls! Mr Holmes can continue sleeping on the sofa," she waved her hands dismissively in Sherlock's direction.
"No," he snarled loudly, startling the two women. "You will not share a bed with Molly."
"Oh, I see," Irene cocked her head as she studied the detective. "You want to share the bed with this precious thing instead."
"Jealous now, are we?" Sherlock mimicked.
"Not at all," Irene whispered, stepping closer to the detective and playing with the sleeves of his pyjama top. "I think she'll prefer me. At least I know what she likes, which is more than I can say for you."
Molly's face turned crimson at Irene's words, which fortunately went undetected by the other two, who were now engaged in a staring contest. Sherlock shot Irene a death glare, but the woman refused to back down, steadily gazing at him with a lively gleam in her eyes.
Molly found that despite Irene's endless sexual innuendos, she didn't actually have any qualms about her staying for the night. It was just one night after all, and she was going to be helping Sherlock. Plus, Molly felt bad to reject her since she was already settled comfortably here. Very comfortably, in fact.
"Erm," she said, wanting to diffuse the tension in the room. "I don't actually mind Irene sharing my bed for a night."
"Don't be absurd, Molly," Sherlock snapped. "She'll do things to you that you will regret. I'll share the bed with you instead."
"What?" she squeaked. This was getting out of control. She had no idea why Sherlock was so antagonistic towards this woman who was going to help him. She seemed alright to her, maybe just a little too bold and playful. But it certainly wasn't enough for Sherlock to be staring at her with disdain. Something must have happened between them, and Molly wasn't sure if she wanted to find out.
"What's wrong?" he asked Molly, frowning at her shocked expression. "It's not like we haven't slept together before."
Molly choked. Irene looked at both of them with interest when she heard this, her bright eyes darting between the two. Molly could practically hear what she was thinking and couldn't stop the blood from flowing to her cheeks again. She wondered if Sherlock even realised the sexual nature of his words. Probably not.
"It's not what you think," she muttered, embarrassed.
"Oh, isn't it?" Irene smirked.
Before Molly could reply, Sherlock pulled her into the bedroom and shut the door.
Hope you guys liked this chapter. My opinion is that if Irene and Molly actually met, Irene will like Molly a lot. And I like the idea of them being friends. :p
As for Joe, he certainly has a role to play, just wait and see. Muahahaha!
Pls keep the reviews coming! And thanks for reading! Will try to update soon.