Molly's wretched establishment had been transformed. She had created a modest outdoor eating garden with tables, surrounded by glowing Chinese lanterns; a fresh coat of paint, a few bushes in pots and birds in cages add to the feeling of upward mobility. A new sign hung proudly over the entrance to the pie shop: 'MRS. HOOPER'S WORLD FAMOUS MEAT PIES!' And then, in smaller letters: 'LIKE MOTHER USED TO MAKE.'
The eating garden was already crowded; the benches at the tables are filled and other customers stand and mill about. All eating, and eating, and eating.
The customers took great, hungry mouthfuls; the steaming gravy oozing down their pasty faces.
The beggar whom told Greg about Mycroft stood across the street, ravenously hungry; not put off by the disgusting display.
He finally got the nerve to approach when Archie — wearing a smart new outfit with apron — burst from the shop and circulated through the customers:
Ladies and gentlemen,
May I have your attention, p-lease?
Are your nostrils aquiver and tingling as well
At that delicate, luscious, ambrosial smell?
Yes they are, I can tell…
He swerved through the greedily eating customers in the outdoor garden and toward the street as.
Well, ladies and gentlemen,
That aroma enriching the breeze
Is like nothing compared to its succulent source,
As the gourmets among you will tell you, of course.
He arrived at the street and proceeded to drum up some more business.
Ladies and gentlemen,
You can't imagine the rapture in store–
Just inside of this door!
There you'll sample
Mrs. Hooper's meat pies,
Savoury and sweet pies,
As you'll see.
You who eat pies,
Mrs. Hooper's meat pies
Conjure up the treat pies
Used to be!
Just then, Molly swept from the pie shop with a tray of hot, steaming pies.
Like her shop, she had been transformed as well. She was wearing her somewhat gauche notion of a "fancy dress"; with mountains of décolletage; and her hair had been dyed a rather unique aubergine colour.
Archie!
Coming!
Archie pushed past a customer.
'Scuse me…
Molly pointed out a beckoning customer.
Ale there!
Right, ma'am!
Quick, now!
Archie scurried inside to get a jug of ale, whisked back out, and started filling tankards as Molly circulated grandly. She was a bundle of activity — serving pies, collecting money, giving orders, addressing the patrons individually and with equal buoyant insincerity:
Nice to see you, dearie…
How have you been keeping?…
Cor, me bones is weary!
Archie–!
She indicated a customer to Archie.
One for the gentleman…
Hear the birdies cheeping–
Helps to keep it cheery…
She spots the Beggar approaching, and responds with unusual ferocity.
Archie!
Throw the man out!
Archie shooed the beggar away, but he soon came skulking back.
Molly continued to circulate among the customers.
What's your pleasure, dearie…?
No, we don't cut slices…
Cor, my eyes are bleary…!
Archie was about to pour for a drunken customer when Molly called to him.
Archie!
None for the gentleman…!
I could up me prices–
I'm a little leery…
Business
Couldn't be better, though–
Knock on wood.
She tapped the table with her knuckles.
Sherlock worked busily. Sawing, drilling, screwing, hammering. Adjusting his barber chair, tinkering, building. Feverish. Happy.
Molly continued to circulate the throng of customers.
What's your pleasure, dearie?
Molly accidently spilled the ale.
Oops! I beg your pardon!
Just me hands is smeary –
Molly spotted a customer trying to sneak out without paying.
Archie!
Run for the gentleman!
Archie caught him and collected the money as Molly turned to another customer.
Don't you love a garden?
Always makes me teary…
Molly looked back at the thieving customer quickly, before returning to the one-sided conversation.
What's my secret?
Molly turned to chat to a woman.
Frankly, dear — forgive my candour–
Family secret,
All to do with herbs.
Things like being
Careful with your coriander,
That's what makes the gravy grander–!
The customers were getting more rabid, stuffing in the gorgeous meat pies in great fistfuls – a display of pure gluttony.
Sherlock made the final adjustments to his chair and stood back; seemingly delighted with the results of his tinkering.
The ratty old parlour chair was transformed into a sleek, Victorian barber chair… with unique refinements. He left the barber shop.
Sherlock stood at the top of the stairs, watching the street hungrily – his mind reeling, searching out his next victim. Below, Molly smiled to another customer.
Incidentally, dearie,
You know Mrs. Mooney.
Sales've been so dreary–
She spotted the beggar again.
Archie!
She continued to the customer, about Mrs. Mooney.
Poor thing is penniless.
Molly addressed a rising customer, swooping in like a hawk.
And that'll be thruppence.
Eat them slow and
Feel the crust, how thin I (she) rolled it!
Eat them slow, 'cos
Every one's a prize!
Eat them slow, 'cos
That's the lot and now we've sold it!
She hung up the "Sold Out" sign.
Come again tomorrow–!
She spotted a man in need of a shave approaching; looks like they'd have more very soon.
Hold it –
Bless my eyes–!
She saw the man going up to the barber shop. Sherlock is still standing at the top of the stairs. He smiled secretly to Molly as he ushered the man in.
Fresh supplies!
The man went into the barber shop as she happily took down the "Sold Out" sign and turned again to the customers.
How about it, dearie?
Is that a pie
Be here in a twinkling!
Fit for a king,
Just confirms me theory –
A wondrous sweet
Archie–!
And most delectable
God watches over us.
Thing?
Didn't have an inkling…
You see, ma'am, why
Positively eerie…
There is no meat pie –
Molly then spotted the beggar approaching again, she turned to Archie with truly shocking viciousness; "Archie! Throw the man out!" Molly watched intently, smiling a small, private smile as Archie leads the beggar man away.
The Customers, meanwhile, were building to a pure frenzy of mastication — chewing and gulping and snapping at the heavenly pies. Molly stood at the door to her shop, triumphant.