Listen, after the the Christmas debacle and the “how did he recognize her by…not her face” incident in the morgue, I figure Molly might ask Irene for a few tips to get Sherlock’s attention. Okay, give me some time and I’ll see if I can’t do some flash fic for this. In the meantime, feel free to provide your own bit of flash fic in the comments below.
I’ve got to head off now to go to a Seattle Sherlock Convention planning meeting (and it’s a bit of a journey for me involving bags and things).
Whoof! Finally. Here’s a bit of flash fan fic to go with the image.
by J.H. Watson
~ 750 Words
Sherlock Holmes frowned at the text message on his phone.
“Something wrong?” John Watson asked. They’d only been back in London for a couple of days after the Baskerville case and Sherlock was already showing signs of boredom.
“I don’t recall taking my riding crop back to Bart’s.”
Sherlock flashed his phone screen for John to read. It said, “Found your riding crop in my lab. Come at once. Could be dangerous. – Molly”
John stood up as he said, “I’ll get my gun.”
“I’ll get a cab.”
To say Molly had a crush on Sherlock was to say that London is crowded, the British tabloids are ruthless, and Brits like beer. Miss Hooper, however, was sweet — pathetically, naively, charmingly sweet. Her sweetness was the matter to the anti-matter of Sherlock’s arrogance. In a desperate ploy to convey her willingness to engage in a romantic, and please Dear God sexual, relationship with the brilliant but misanthropic consulting detective, she performed endless acts of kindness to him. And Sherlock took every advantage of her — except the ones she’d hoped he’d take.
The two men arrived at St. Bartholomew’s Hospital a few minutes later and strode into the lab used by their pathologist and friend, Molly Hooper. She was no where to be seen.
“Molly?” Sherlock called out.
Molly Hooper stood up and stepped out from behind a lab station. She was biting on a riding crop held by one hand, a pair of handcuffs dangled breast height from the other hand. She wore nothing else.
Nothing at all.
Both men stopped. Sherlock’s mouth dropped open. John Watson blanched. They remained that way for at least five seconds before Molly shrieked, dropped the handcuffs and riding crop and ducked behind the lab station.
“You might want to close your mouth, Sherlock,” John said.
Sherlock moved then, grabbing a lab coat from a hook, and moved within reach of the station and held it out with his back toward Molly.
“Right. I’ll just go back to the flat,” John said as he turned to leave.
“Why?” asked Sherlock.
John turned back and stared at his friend. “Your joking, right?”
“Sherlock, you two want to be alone.”
John stared at Sherlock. Sherlock furrowed his brow as he stared back for a full ten seconds attempting to get the message. John finally sighed and rolled his eyes upwards in appeal.
Molly Hooper stood up at that point and stepped out. The lab coat was buttoned from top to bottom. Her hair had been swept up into an untidy knot at the nape of her neck. She was looking at the floor and her face was flushed as she said, “It’s okay, John. I should have known it wouldn’t work.”
It was not only that her voice sounded deflated, she appeared shrunken, collapsing in on herself. A wave of pity and empathy washed over John. He wanted to hug her, hold her. No, he wanted Sherlock to hug her and hold her because that’s what Molly needed. He gestured with his head to Sherlock towards Molly.
Sherlock simply wore his puzzled expression as he looked from John to Molly and back to John. John sighed again, grimaced, and nodded more emphatically towards Molly.
“What?” Sherlock asked.
John shook his head before saying, “Molly, it’s alright. Really. Very romantic. Sorry I ruined it for you.”
“Ruined what?” Sherlock asked.
“What? Not good?”
“No, no,” said Molly. “Forget it. Go away.”
John took Sherlock’s arm and tugged him towards the door. Both were silent for several moments until they were out of the building and back in a cab. Then John glanced at Sherlock and asked, “Did you get her measurements?”
The men exchanged a look and both burst into giggles.
“Well, she did say it could be dangerous,” John said before another fit of giggles.
“I wonder where she got the idea?”
John stopped laughing and looked sharply at his friend. “You don’t think?”
“She’s in America in the witness protection program.”
John slowly replied, “Right.”
“She’d be an idiot to risk breaking cover.”
“Oh, right,” John answered distractedly as he watched the CCTV cameras go by.
Back in the lab, Molly finishing buttoning her sweater and wiped the last tear from her eyes. She dug through her oversized bag and pulled out her phone. Once the Twitter app had loaded she typed:
@Whip_lash Total FAIL! John was with him. Humiliated.
A moment later Molly’s phone pinged a reply:
@mollyhooper Text him ‘Let’s have dinner.’ Guarantee reaction.
##### END ######
Oh… that ending was a zinger!
John should have hugged Molly and said, “Sherlock doesn’t get these things, Molly.” Or texted her himself. Doofus. One of these days, John will get his. Maybe Harry will deck him. 🙂
“My friends are so wrong about you. You’re a great boyfriend.”
“Mmm. ‘Kay. That’s good. I always thought I was great.”
Unfortunately, John, she was being sarcastic. I mean John tries. He’s very enthusiastic about women (and I’m certain he’s *very* enthusiastic in bed), but he’s one of those reserved types who, you know, sends flowers automatically every holiday and birthday and gets her a vacuum cleaner for Christmas because he once heard her complain about needing a new one while he was getting dressed and she was tidying and then is completely astounded when she tells him she doesn’t feel things are going well in the relationship.
He knows Molly needs a hug, but since he knows she really wants it form Sherlock, it never occurs to him that, at that moment, she needs the hug from *somebody*, anybody, who can sympathize.
Women are a fascinating, alluring, marvelous
alien species to poor John.
Sherlock, meanwhile, needs a whack upside the head.
And to use a bit of that grey matter to find Molly the perfect guy! (That may be my inner Yenta speaking, but still, just because Sherlock doesn’t like sharing, isn’t an excuse for not helping a friend.)
Lestrade. Why can’t she date Greg?
He’s smart, he’s hot. He might leave her in the morgue because he’s got a serial killer to chase, but he won’t ask her to smuggle him a corpse to horsewhip.
I really think Molly needs someone a bit more like our Silver Fox.
I’d whack SH upside the head. He’d probably get the same look as when Molly ran off in the lab. I expect he’d say OW too, but that would just be gravy. =twinkle=
Sherlock, stunned: “Why’d she do that?”
John: “Because it’s accumulated interest, Sherlock. How many years have you known her? Exactly that many years’ worth!”
Well, first, we don’t know if Greg Lestrade has gotten divorced yet. Granted his wife was cuckolding him with a PE teacher during Scandal in Belgravia, but they may have worked things out in counseling or something. Second, while I think the Silver Fox is great guy, police do have a notoriously high divorce rate as well as dysfunctional family issues.
Molly needs a nerd. A really smart, sweet nerd who is going to be so thrilled at having a woman condescend to talk with him, let alone go out with him, that he’ll put her on a pedestal and pamper her. (It was no coincidence that Moriarty played the role of an IT department staff member as ‘Gay Jim’ when he was ‘dating’ her.) And a nerd won’t think her conversational or social skills are lacking in any way whatsoever. Sherlock needs to go to a tech conference or SF convention and find Molly a soon-to-be-very-well-off nerd with good genes and a desire to have a family (possibly a stay-at-home Dad if Molly chooses).
Or maybe we should just hook Molly up with Rajeesh from The Big Bang Theory.
(Of course my inner Yenta is dying to hook up Mycroft and Captain Jack Harkness…)
Excellent……loved the ending. One of my far out thoughts was that perhaps Sherlock had secretly donated to the Bart’s sperm bank anonymously to insure that his supreme intellect would not die out. Molly finds out and upon Sherlock’s return, introduces him to a beautiful curly headed little boy who is too smart for his own good. Sherlock 2.0, perhaps. Or Adam, as he would really be a first.
Keep ’em comin’…..love the fanfic.
Glad you are enjoying them. I’m hoping to have time for a little Holiday Gift for everyone who visits Sherlock Cares (or maybe a bonus for supporters). I’ve actually got a list of stories to work on, but sometimes (like this morning) something comes to me that demands to be written *Right Now*!
Love the idea of Sherlock donating to a sperm bank (I will not speculate on what he uses for inspiration in the restroom with the little cup in hand. I will not speculate on…oh, damn. I’m speculating. I’m now making a note on my cuffs about adding it to the list.)
I’d like to see Molly with a little *girl* Sherlock! Think Miss Parker of The Pretender with an English accent whose totally exasperated at Mommy’s lack of clothing sense.