-Bart's-
Sherlock entered the room, his coat bellowing behind him. The first thing he saw was Molly working away at small glass cylinder filled with what appeared to be nothing. However that was clearly not the case.
"Every bit of the body showed up clean besides the teeth. There was plack on the upper third molar. A spot clearly missed." She placed the cylinder down.
Sherlock came closer and sat down, looking at the cylinder.
"Any other information?"
There was a loud thud as Molly placed the large folder of documents down next to him. He glanced towards the folder.
"Lestrade gave you the documents on the cases?" Sherlock asked, giving Molly a side glance.
"No, I am just the messenger." She brought a plastic bag to him containing 5 long brown bits of hair in it. Undoubtedly Jessica's hair. She dropped it down atop the folder. Sherlock set himself back to work, reading through the information and deciding if the facts were worth his time. It only took a few seconds before he ended up talking aloud. He was in no way trying to get Molly's opinion, but John wasn't there so she would have to do.
"The man is gay, the puncture wound is in the back of the neck, the nails were cleaned and manicured; there is much respect towards the body. However, he could very well be asexual. The red rose that was in her hand is most likely symbolic. An affair not likely as she spent most of her time alone. She was looking for a significant other online, and by the look of her inbox she didn't have any lovers at the time. The man has a very emotional bond." Sherlock continued ranting.
He glanced up to see Molly with two mugs of coffee in her hands. She set one down and made her way towards her workspace. He took a sip and his face scrunched up as it always did when Molly made coffee. Bart's wasn't known for the best coffee, but it would have to do. He set the mug down and brought the work back into focus.
"Formaldehyde and methanol were found in the body. He worked at the morgue for some time, most likely fired after a few years. The girls probably died in their sleep, being that most poisons are denser than oxygen. There is a possibility that she drank the poison. It appears that I may have to talk to John's date."
Molly, who had managed to remain perfectly silent the whole time, noticed that John was not with him. She hadn't been paying attention to what he'd been saying.
"Where is John?" Molly asked as she looked around.
"On a date with Mary Morstan," Sherlock said, slightly annoyed.
"Oh, isn't she the woman who was named in the paper?"
"Yes."
"You left John with a woman who could be the murderess?"
"No," he said this looking at Molly straight on, causing her to blush deeply. "I have been saying all day that the murderer is a man. Why don't people understand? I have never called the woman the murderess. It wouldn't be logical. Mary has no experience with chemicals nor worked at the morgue. She's a nanny, meaning that she doesn't get paid a comfortable wage to get toxic poisons on the black market."
"Why did you make John go on a date then?"
"Easy, I ruined his last date and he will be an inside source on the case."
The night quickly set in around London. No time appeared to have passed where they worked. Sherlock talked to himself about the case and Molly fetched more coffee once he had ran out. He was so caught up into his own mind that he had hardly realized that Molly had left the room for longer than 4 minutes. He kept thinking, ignoring her absence, none of it important at the moment. His mind was racing, and if written down a reader would be lost in the first sentence.
"Oh, you're here late."
If Sherlock was a normal person, he would have jumped at the unexpected voice, but he was well known for not being normal. He glanced towards the disruption.
"What time is it?" Sherlock asked, seeing a tall man in the doorway.
"11 pm." The man looked down at his watch as he said this
"Then I must be off." Sherlock grabbed the items from the table and disappeared from the morgue. The only thoughts in his head were of questions for John Watson and his strange date.
-Dishoom-
John couldn't help but stare at the name written on the building. Of course it had to be this restaurant that he had made reservations for earlier that week. John did not really enjoy Indian food, but his old date had. It took him a good while to make a reservation at this restaurant, too. He couldn't help but feel as if his day would not brighten in the least.
John glanced at the woman next to him. She gave an odd look at the sign as well. At that moment it was clear to John that he had brought a dangerous woman to a restaurant that she obviously would not enjoy.
"The Dishoom," Mary said as she looked at the building. "Interesting choice."
John chuckled awkwardly to himself, this was going to be perfect. Just perfect.
They entered and sat near a window seat. Nameless people walked back and forth; it appeared to be a very busy night. A flustered watrist who appeared who had dark skin and long black hair.
"Welcome, I am Abha and I will be your server today, what would you like to order?"
Mary smiled at Abha and took one glance at the menu before stating. "Namaskāra, ābhā. Āpakī aṅgrējī bahuta acchī hai. Maiṁ aba kē li'ē masālēdāra mēmanē cōpsa aura ēka pānī kē li'ē hōgā."
Abha and John stared at Mary. The new waiter was slightly flustered for a second and then relaxed a bit. A smile came to her face.
"Āpakī hindī bahuta acchī hai."
"Dhan'yavāda. Maiṁ satraha thā jaba taka maiṁ bhārata mēṁ rahatē thē. Mērē pitā vahām̐ kāma kiyā."
"Āpa ŏrḍara karanē kē li'ē kyā karanā cāhatē haiṁ."
John was distracted at the scene that taking place before him. It was an abnormal experience to find that his date knew Hindi and she spoke Hindi very well at that. He was so dumbfounded he couldn't help but stare at Mary and didn't notice that the server was talking to him.
" Unhōnnē kahā ki kēvala aṅgrējī bōlatā hai." Mary said to Abha.
Abha looked a little disappointed but ignored it for a quick moment. She smiled at John with a very fake smile.
"Your order?" Abha asked.
"Same," John said dropping his menu and looked at Mary again.
Abha took their menu's and disappeared into the kitchen. John started on, his eyes brows merging in the middle.
"Dr. Watson, hasn't anyone told you that staring is rude?" Mary asked taking a drink of water.
"You know Hindi," he said finally.
She lifted her shoulders and looked him in the eyes. A shy smile coming on her face as she let her shoulders fall.
"Yes I do, you should know that though. After all it is on the dating website."
John Watson couldn't help but debate on the words that he was about to say.
"Um, well I didn't setup the account, my flat mate did." If he was going down he might as well bring Sherlock down with him. Mary raised an eyebrow. John felt his throat go dry and drank some water. It became even harder to swallow and he waited for her to say anything. "He was the one who eventually set up the date."
She nodded and looked at him with a smile. "That's alright, my friend set up my dating account as a practical joke. I had never imagined that someone like yourself would be interested in dating a woman like me."
"Why would you say that?" John asked.
The dinner was served and Mary waited for a few seconds before looking back at him. There was a hidden twinge of sadness deep in her eyes.
" I am, Dr. Watson, very normal. I was raised on excitement, exciting things have happened to me, but I, myself, am very normal," Mary stated as she began eating.
"What types of exciting things?" John asked.
He had to seemed to forgotten that Sherlock Holmes had him go on a date with a supposed murderess. He had began to enjoy his date until he realized this matter. His attitude changed at that moment and the rest of the dinner was spent with nervous glances and a very confused Mary. The dinner was over within the hour and John was ready to go home. At the moment he could not help but hate Sherlock for making him meet this woman. He was about to get into the cab when Mary pulled his arm.
"John," she began. This was the first time ever saying his first name.
He hated how sweetly her voice lilted when she spoke. He turned to face her. A light smile played on her lips.
"I was wondering if we could walk for a little while?"
There was a moment where John felt fear creep into his stomach. She wanted to take a walk, which could easily mean she wanted to murder him. John swallowed nervously and decided if she really wanted to murder him that she could have done that any moment tonight. So he helplessly nodded and then with a cough he finally responded with, "Of course. It is a beautiful night after all."