Chapter Two
When my alarm buzzed at 7:00, I was already awake. I was up all night thanks to Holy-crap-I'm-in-a-different-country-and-I-actually-start-a-job-tomorrow jitters. I had everything I would need already sitting on the coffee table. The directions to the hospital, my black pencil skirt, black flats (heels are not my thing), a purple blouse, and the ID badge that had been administered to me by the hospital to allow me clearance in the building. As soon as my feet touched the ground, I went on my knees with my hands clasped on the bed. I prayed that God would grant me a tiny push of confidence when all I felt was nerves. I'm always anxious and always worrying. The the only way to stop that? To hit your knees and pray. At least, that's what my mom had taught me from an early age.
After murmuring into the bedspread for a shred of sanity, I stood and took the hottest, quickest shower possible. I glanced in the mirror of the vanity when I was done, overall pleased with how I looked. When people find out your profession is to cut up dead bodies, it helps to have somewhat of a pretty face. I had brown hair that was shoulder length, green eyes, and small, oval face. Of course, I'm no Princess Kate, but I could be somewhat attractive when I tried. At least I hoped I was attractive. With makeup and hair done, I stared at myself. That's when the 1st grader in me popped out. What if no one likes me? What if I'm too bossy? What if I mess something up?
I glared up to the ceiling. "Help me out here, Lord!" I said in frustration. Looking back at my reflection, I huffed. "Becca, you were first in your class and you have a freaking medical degrees. Get. A. Grip." With my pep talk over, I grabbed my things and hit the road.
I was in such a rush to grab a cab, I almost walked past the free breakfast set up in the hotel lobby. I settled for a bagel with cream cheese and grabbed a bottle of apple juice. My feet and hips were already aching from running around. I threw my food in a paper bag and went outside to hail a taxi. Today the rain had let up, sending blue sky shining with golden sunlight. A warm breeze hit me and I smiled for the first time on this early April morning. The taxi ride was quick and it was spent trying to calm my quick breathing with slow, deep breaths.
The hospital map was easy enough to navigate, and as I entered the lobby I saw a brightly colored hall which lead to the pediatric wing. I smiled, thinking of Mr. Benson and his grandson Luke. He had called me last night, telling me that he was the only family his grandchildren had left. It saddened me, but I could relate. The only family I had was my mother and she wasn't even my real mother. But what mattered was that I loved her like she was.
I pondered these thoughts as the elevator took me below the ground floor and to the morgue. After a few hallways, I was met with a small lab. There, stood a small woman peering into a microscope at a petri dish. I knocked lightly on the door, making my presence known. The girl looked up.
"Dr. Palmer?" Her sweet British accent asked.
"That would be me." I smiled, taking a tentative step forward.
"A pleasure. Dr. Molly Hooper, your coworker ." She took strides toward me and offered her hand. The way her hair was pulled back revealed large, warm brown eyes. Her smile was sweet and made me feel welcome.
"Really pleased to meet you." I gave her hand a firm shake. "I'm sure we'll be working a lot together."
"I can guarantee that, actually. It'll pretty much be you and me. Anderson comes in from time to time. But mostly it's just me by myself. Until you came." She smiled brightly.
"Just us?" I spluttered. I was used to working with a full team of scientists in New York.
"You'll be just fine." Dr. Hooper assured me. "It'll be great having someone to lighten the load."
" Well, could you please show me where I'll be working?" I surveyed the long room. Molly directed me to my half of a long stainless steel table fixed with facets and microscopes. A pile of case files sat stacked near the sink.
"Look!" She said brightly, pointing to a spot on the surface. "I hope you like it. It's a little welcome present from me. And the board. Mostly me though." She grinned.
I followed her finger to find a name plaque by the edge. It faced away from me, so I turned it around to read the inscription: Dr. Rebecca E. Palmer, M.D.
"Thank you, Dr. Hooper." I felt tears press in the back of my eyes. I put a hand on her arm. "That is incredibly kind of you."
"Anything I can do to make this transition more comfortable for you. I'm sure it's difficult. But I hope we can be friends. Please call me Molly." She gave my hand a squeeze.
"If you call me Becca." I responded gratefully. It was then I remembered my breakfast I had packed away. I held up the bag for her to see. "Do you mind? I wanted to grab breakfast on the go this morning."
"Not at all." She pointed around corner to what looked a little pantry. "I set up a little kitchen over there with coffee and tea. Sometimes work goes late into the night and I need a little pick me up. Please help yourself."
I couldn't bite back my smile. "I've known you all but three minutes and I can tell we will be great co-workers and even better friends, Ms. Hooper. You've treated me wonderfully, and I thank you."
"Molly." She corrected gently. "You are more than welcome. Did you think we Brits bite? Because we don't. Except for a few." She teased.
I laughed, shaking my head. "No..I don't know. Remember the butterflies you'd get when you started a new year at school?"
She nodded, sending her ponytail bobbing.
"That's what I've had all morning, even last night. I tend to be a worrier." I wrung my hands.
"In that case, I suggest you get yourself a nice cup of tea. After you've eaten, would you like a tour? We don't have any pressing cases at the moment, just a lot of case paperwork, so we have time to show you around." Molly offered.
"I'd really love that. Thank you." I took my first bite of my lukewarm bagel.
As I breakfasted, we made small talk. Molly asked me about my life and I filled her in on my backround. She went on to tell me most of her lifestory. She had lived in London all her life and her father was gone. She told me she had struggled to get her degree, but she had seen it to the end. When I finished, Molly took me on a tour of our facility. There wasn't a whole lot more to see. The actual mourge was smaller than I was used to, but it would definitely be useful. It was neat, clean, brightly lit. It seemed like it would suit me just fine.
"You seem to run this place quite well, Molly." I complimented when we returned to the lab.
"Thanks." She smiled. "I certainly try. It'll be really great having you to work with. Working with the dead it quiet enough, but doing it alone is worse."
"Well, you aren't alone now." I said firmly, sitting down on my stool. I pulled the first case file off the stack in front of me. "Ready to get down to business?"
Molly gave a nod and off we went. Over the next few hours, we barreled our way through case after case. I had mounds of paperwork to go through because my new role in the hospital. By noon, I found myself ready to nod off. That's when I remembered Molly's secret weapon: the coffee. I stood, my legs and back complaining of stiffness and soreness as I got my balance. I grimaced and Molly noticed.
"You alright?" Concern laced her voice.
"Yep." I answered, my breath hitching. "Gonna make some coffee. Do you want anything?"
"I'm fine." She rose as well. "Gosh, I'm sore too! We need new chairs. Stools do not cut it."
I laughed as I fixed a pot ready to brew. I returned to my seat and was surprised was the door into the lab swung open.
"Afternoon." A deep voice greeted us with no real sincere meaning.
The man who stepped through the door was unlike any I had ever seen. He was incredibly tall, every bit of six feet. His large stature gave him an air of authority. Coal black, thick curls framed his forehead and created a stark contrast against the piercing sea glass blue of his eyes. The features of his face were sharp, but in no way displeasing to the eye. He was one of the most put together men I had ever seen. The purple shirt and dark dress pants he wore sent my heart racing. His long coat accented his slender frame. There were certainly no men like this back in the States.
"Good morning, Sherlock." Molly's voice was a tad higher.
I rose again from my seat. "Sherlock? As in Sherlock Holmes?"
"Who's asking?" The man turned his attention to me.
"Dr. Rebecca Palmer, Mr. Homes." I held out my hand.
"He doesn't." Molly said quickly, with a shake of her head.
I swallowed and let my hand drop. "I take that as a yes."
"How do you know about me?" Sherlock's brow furrowed.
"You have a blog, don't you Mr. Holmes? People read it, people like me." I said.
He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. "So I have a fan on my hands?" He asked in an exasperated tone.
"Certainly not, if you mean by fan that I drool over my laptop because of your blog." I answered, slightly irritated.
"Molly, make me a cup of coffee, if you please." Sherlock ignored my response.
I stopped Molly's movement with my hand. "Don't."
"What?" Molly said, obviously confused.
Sherlock's head snapped quickly. "What are you doing?" He eyes narrowed.
"Mr. Holmes, I don't know if you are aware of this, but I am head of this morgue and lab now. And because I am the head, you cannot just was walk in and boss around one of my coworkers. With all due respect, I think you and I both know that Dr. Hooper's talents and time are better well spent working than serving you. If you would like coffee, feel free to help yourself."
With that, I sat down and flipped open the file I had been reading. I heard Molly sit beside me and start working again. Sherlock moved to the corner with a huff and began fixing himself a mug.
"Why are you here, Sherlock?" Molly asked, without looking up.
"I need few eyes, if you've got them. I'm running out and I need them for an experiment." He replied in a nonchalant tone. My eyes bugged out at the page I was reading when I heard his answer.
Molly must have noticed because she whispered. "He's being completely serious, I promise you."
"You certainly are a character, Mr. Holmes." I said to myself.
"Sorry?" He asked, stirring sugar into his mug.
"Nothing." I answered flatly.
Sherlock leaned against a nearby counter, his eyes flitting around me. "Pennsylvania or Ohio?"
"Come again?"
"Pennsylvania or Ohio?" He repeated, this time with more intensity.
"Pennsylvania." I answered, reluctantly giving him the satisfaction of him figuring out my home state. I turned to Molly, "He did that deducing thing, didn't he?" I asked nervously.
"Look's like he's not done." Molly eyes were fixed on Sherlock's concentrated face.
A few moments passed before Sherlock spoke. "Obviously you are American and knowing the state you grew up in was easy enough. Your accent suggested Midwest, but not too far west or too far east. That left Ohio or Pennsylvania. You are very religious, but although you wear the Catholic saint for purity round your neck you are not Catholic. So it must have some sort of sentimental value, therefore a gift from a friend or relative. The uneven tilt of your hips and the way your posture shifts to the left side of your body rather than center suggests you have a handicap. These symptoms suggest cerebral palsy."
"Sherlock!" Molly cried. "Don't pry."
"No it's ok." I told her. "Continue, Mr. Holmes."
"Thank you, Dr. Palmer. Your dominant hand is your left, but the muscles in index, middle and ring fingers on your right hand are toned. This suggests you play a three valved instrument. Your posture would make it quite difficult to play the trumpet and you are too small for the tuba. So I'm going with the baritone. You have a cat and a dog, but you favor the cat. You idolize the Royal family and you watch too much Downton Abbey, frankly. Soprano singing voice, avid Jane Austen reader. Missed anything?" He finished with a triumphant smirked.
"Nope." I replied, trying to bite back a smile. "Quite impressed, to be honest."
"I know." He took a sip of coffee.
"That's called a compliment. And it usually follows a thank you." I was getting more annoyed by the second.
In response,Sherlock shrugged.
"Are you leaving my lab anytime soon, Mr. Holmes?" I clicked my pen in and out with impatience.
"As soon as I get my eyeball's, Dr. Palmer." It seemed the annoyance was mutual.
Molly pushed a jar of eyes in fluid toward. "Here you are, then."
"Thank you Molly." He gave her a smile. "What happened to the lipstick you were wearing a few days ago?"
"Didn't work for me." She diverted her gaze.
"Oh. I liked it." Sherlock's comment sent a blush into Molly's cheeks.
He took the jar and strode toward the door. At the door, he stopped. "Dr. Palmer, I have one more deduction for you."
"And what would that be, Mr. Holmes? I am dying to hear it." I gave him a sarcastic smile.
"Part of you fancies me." He smirked and his eyes showed obvious pride in himself. " Good day ladies." Then the door was shut.
As I went into shock, the case I was reading hit the floor, followed by my jaw.
This was by far the most fun I've ever had writing a chapter of any of the fanfics I've written. I hope you all have enjoyed and please let me know what you think! So much love!