The Woman Who Counted (A Sherlolly Tale)

Chapter 17

(Saint Bart’s Lab | Third-Person POV)

            Molly was in the lab, the brain of a Miss. Helen Louise sat in a large metal bowl she was holding. Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade had just been to see her. Molly was starting to get worried about the wedding. She knew Sherlock was likely to be the best man. Sherlock was going to have to make a speech then. There would actually be people there, actually listening to him.

            “Well, what’s the worst that could happen?” Lestrade had asked tentatively.

            Everything.

            Everything could happen. She knew who Sherlock was. He was a complete prick, and would not hesitate to insult anyone. Of course, most of the time he doesn’t know he’s being an obnoxious asshole, but that didn’t change anything. There’s no telling what he would say at John’s wedding in just one month!

            Molly’s worrying was interrupted when one of the other doctors, Doctor Grant, came into the lab. She set the metal bowl holding Helen Louise’s brain on a table as Doctor Grant approached her.

            “Doctor Hooper.” He greeted.

            “Yes?” She replied.

            “There is a man requesting with speak with you,” He told her. “ He’s from the newspapers.”

            “Why would he want to see me?” Molly asked, frowning slightly.

            “No idea. He says it is of importance, so you best hurry. He is waiting at your office.”

            “Yes, sir. Thank you.”

            Molly removed her gloves and tossed them in a trash bin. She then quickly left the lab and made her way to her office. When she arrived, a tall man was waiting for her at the door. She walked up to him.

            “Miss Hooper, I presume?” The man said with a Danish accent.

            “Yes,” Molly confirmed. “And you are…?”

            “Magnusson. Charles Augustus Magnusson.”

            “What do you need, Mr. Magnusson?" Molly asked. She was eager to get back to work.

            “I have information on you of uttermost importance.” Magnusson stated.

            “Mr. Magnuson,” Molly said quietly. “I think it is best if we continue this conversation in my office.”

            Magnusson nodded, and Molly unlocked her office door and walked in, Magnusson following behind. Magnusson immediately sat in her seat behind the tiny desk, which occupied most of the small room. Molly closed the door and sat down on a metal, cushioned chair, which sat in front of the desk.

            “Information?” Molly questioned, confused as to what a man she had never met before would know about her.

            “Information that could cause you to get into some trouble,” Magnusson told her. He reached his right hand across the desk and grabbed Molly’s.

            “Please, don’t–“ Molly started, pulling her hand back. Magnusson gripped her hand tighter as he interrupted her.

             “I have in my possession video footage of you filling bags of corpse fingers, and even limbs. You then hide the bags in your abnormally large bag that you sometimes bring with you to work, and leave Saint Bartholomew’s. Surprising, it seems that people should have noticed by now.”