CHAPTER 2: AN UNEXPECTED MEETING AND AN UNWANTED CASE
Thursday, 8 p.m.
They had agreed to meet in front of the restaurant exactly eight, but Molly arrived two minutes late. A mistake easily forgiven. Mary and John were already there, standing and waiting for her. As soon as she came out of the cab and John saw her, he came to her, shook her hand and said: "Congratulations!"
Mary smiled and hugged the other woman. "Well done!" she whispered to her ear. She raised eyebrows. "On what occasion?" She asked.
John laughed. "For finally telling Sherlock to piss off."
"Oh that..." Molly blushed.
"You should have seen him, when we got home! He practically destroyed his skull." He put his arm around Mary's waist and Mary took Molly's hand. They entered the Italian restaurant, which John had offered out, when Molly proposed him and Mary to go out together tonight. The place owner, named Angelo, welcomed them cheerily, although he seemed surprised for some reason, while watching John and Mary.
He showed them to their seats and gave them the menus. The three chatted about everyday life. Under the pair's encouragement Molly told in detail what had happened today in the cafeteria of St. Bartholomew's Hospital. They had a lot of fun and the food was also good. Molly asked John about the restaurant and he told the ladies the story of his first case with Sherlock and the embarrassing incident with his cane.
It had been a very long time since Molly was able to relax so much in other people's company. After a while she managed to accidentally drop a spaghetti on her blue dress and had to excuse herself to the toilet. Walking to the other side of the restaurant, she noticed a familiar man with silver hair sitting alone in the bar. Greg Lestrade! What is he doing here?
Molly pulled herself up on the chair next to him and smiled. "Hello!" she greeted him.
He turned to her and the moment he recognized her, he smiled back. "Molly Hooper, the pathologist. What are you doing here? A date?"
She laughed. "If I was on a date, would I be now here, talking to you? No, I'm here with John and Mary."
He frowned for a moment, trying to remember. "Sorry... Mary who exactly?"
"Mary Morstan. Works with me in Barts." The pathologist grabbed a napkin from the counter and started cleaning her dress.
Greg's eyes lightened. "Ah yes! The blond nurse! So her and John Watson then." He sipped his beer.
"Yes. Would you like to join u- Oh!" she had waved towards their table, where the couple had forgotten the food and were busy snogging each other. Molly giggled. "Maybe it's better if I sit here for a while. Do you mind?"
"Not at all. I could use some company anyway."
She smiled warmly to him again. "So, Greg... What brought you here tonight?"
Friday, 11 a.m.
"We're out of milk again, John. Do you even listen to what I'm saying?" Sherlock said to John, when he entered the kitchen.
"Do I even liste- Sherlock, I just came home two seconds ago. A proper thing to say is 'Good morning', but it didn't come to your head, did it?" He waved him off and headed up the stairs to his room. "And you're not a child anymore. You can buy the milk yourself," he shouted to his back. He ignored him.
The doorbell rang. A client.
"John!"
"Heard it. Coming."
Sherlock ran downstairs and opened the front door.
Woman. Mid-forties. Expensive jewellery and clothes, new. Cheap hair dye and manicure. Bad make-up. Not a journalist, too dull. A secretary. A former secretary. Not working now. Living from a heritage. Enough to buy a Chanel dress, not enough to have a decent lunch for the rest of the week. Conclusion: trying to impress me at all cost.
Idiot.
"Sherlock Holmes, the detective?" she asked, with a too deep voice to be flattering for a woman.
"Yes. Go upstairs," he said holding the door open. John had taught him at least to hear their story before throwing them out.
The woman was slow enough to make him sigh. Damn John and his manners! A waste of my time. But Lestrade hadn't phoned either, so it was this or shooting the wall. Or Cluedo, but John had refused to play it with him since the last time. He's so boring.
He made tea in the kitchen, while Sherlock showed their "guest" where she could sit down. Sherlock sat in his armchair and took in his thinking position. She placed her one leg over the other, a clear sign of her days as a secretary in a low-class company. John finished with the tea and brought it to the living-room on a tray. Three cups of black tea, as usual, when they had a client.
"So... How can we help you?" he asked from her, while she took her first sip of the tea.
The woman put the cup down and started talking: "Well... It was Tuesday afternoon and I was wa-" Here it goes...
Sherlock interrupted her. "Spare us of your life story. What do you want?"
She looked startled for a second and John gave him a disapproving glance. He sent him a look that told him to shut up.
"Ehm... Well... In short. I want you to find my dog," she stuttered out.
She what? He stood up and walked in front of her. No traces of a dog in her possession. No traces of a pet in any kind. Why is she lying? Obviously she is lying. What for, is the question? There was something bigger behind it all.
"We'll take the case," Sherlock said, surprising John, so he choked on his tea, "leave your contacts to John, so we can keep you in touch of the progress. Have a nice day!"
He smirked to the woman, took his cup and went back to his chair, to go to his mind palace and block out everything else, except the case and his cup of tea.
Sherlock entered a wing in his palace named ENEMIES. Over the years he had collected a lot of them. Most were now in prison or even dead, but some still remained. Who would be most likely to set him up now with an obviously ridiculous job offer, that is so ridiculous that he would accept it? Who would make his attentions so obvious?
The detective browsed through the names in his mind. Some owned a room, some just a folder. He stopped in front of a door with a large sign on it. JUST RELEASED FROM PRISON. Could it be her? Sherlock opened the door to a quite small room. The walls were covered with pictures of a woman. A woman with many faces. A woman who could almost always fool him. The same woman who was in his living-room just now. We meet again... How could I have not recognized you? But then again... You do have very many faces... He smiled to himself. This is going to be entertaining!
When he left his mind palace, after reminding himself everything he knew about that woman, many hours had passed. He looked at his watch. It was already three o' clock.
"John!" Sherlock shouted.
"What?" He heard the reply upstairs. Then footsteps on the stairs, when he came down.
Sherlock was up in an instant, grabbing him from his shoulders, to make him understand the seriousness of his words. "Did she leave something behind?"
John frowned and pushed his hands off. "Yes, she did. She said the kidnapper of her dog left it behind, but honestly... I'm wondering if she's all right up there..." He pointed first at his head and then at the kitchen table. There was a zip bag with a little bit of dirt inside. Sherlock felt another smile reach his face.
"Brilliant! Let's go!" he said, grabbing his coat, scarf and the bag, rushing out. John followed the man, still in confusion.
"Where are we going, if I may ask?"
"Barts." Sherlock hailed a cab and got in with John, when one pulled over.
"Care to explain?"
"Later."
"Fine."
Hello there!:)
Thank you for reading my story! If you have gotten this far with it, I truly hope you liked it:) Yes, my native language isn't English and prepositions are a nightmare.
This story doesn't take place in the original timeline. Just imagine that Jim Moriarty was never born:P I wanted to experiment a little with this, get to write Sherlock and try to decipher the way his mind works.
I am writing this with my phone, because I don't have a computer, so ignore the little mistakes:P Uploading with it isn't very comfortable.
This is my first fanfiction written on my own and I could really use some constructive criticism:P Please, please review:):) I'd be really happy to read what you think.
Love,
Ave