"Maybe it's just my type" ~ Molly Hooper
---
Clara Oswald eyes followed the black mob of hair and dramatic coat as Sherlock Holmes walked through Scotland Yard like he owned the place. They had taken a cab directly to the place and now seemed in search of whoever 'Lestrade' was. Clara was very excited, her only adventures were usually in novels. This whole solving mysterious murders got her adrenaline pumping though she told herself not to get too hyped up. They had only really just met, even if they seemed like they knew each other already. Clara found it fun flirting, teasing and watching Sherlock's arguments. She had to remind herself that she wasn't, whatever John was. She knew the two men had something special, though not in that way.
All three walked into an office where a grey haired, friendly looking man sat at a desk. 'Ah Lestrade, what happened?' Sherlock fired straight off.
'Hang on a minute, who's this?' Lestrade asked motioning to Clara.
The woman smiled and held out her hand. 'Clara Oswald, just tagging along for the day.'
'Greg Lestrade.' The officer shook it and smiled. 'Tag along with these lunatics? I can't fathom why?'
'Oh don't worry. His brother is paying me to keep an eye on him' Clara laughed grinning at Sherlock. The detective cleared his throat clearly impatient to get on with it.
'On right' Lestrade said and straightened his jacket. 'You like the funny cases, the strange ones right?'
'Obviously'.
'Well that explosion...'
'Yes' Sherlock said glaring at a darker skinned woman who walked in laden with files.
'Who's this?' She asked looking at the detective, 'another partner in crime?'
'Er no, I'm paid to supervise him,' Clara interrupted not liking the attitude of the woman at all.
'Must be good cash, I'm Sally Donovan' the two women shook hands as Clara also introduced herself. Sherlock sighed loudly spurring the man in charge to continue.
'So the explosion...'
'Yes.'
'Well not exactly,' said Lestrade. 'It was made to look like a gas leak'.
'What?' Exclaimed John wondering why anyone would be compelled to set off a bomb in Baker Street. He smiled to himself knowing one reason why everyone would want to and glanced briefly at his flatmate. Sherlock was now staring at a quite envelope in Greg's office.
'All that was left was a strong box - a very strong box - and inside was that' he gestured towards the letter.
'You haven't opened it?' Sherlock questioned picking up the paper.
'Well it's addressed to you isn't it?' Lestrade said. 'We've x-rayed it, it's not booby trapped.'
Sherlock mumbled about how reassuring that was then started looking at the envelope. In blue pen his name was written in cursive writing across the front. The detective started sniffing it and exchanged a few words with John about it while Clara and Lestrade talked.
'So how is it you met Holmes?' He asked crossing his arms and peering at the other men.
'Oh I got a job from his brother before Sherlock and I met but that isn't starting for ages. I also just moved in at 221c so I think the other Holmes is taking it for granted. I'm kind of babysitting those two for a while' she informed him, leaving out the Skype bit. That sounded too weird to strangers.
'Yeah, how's that going?'
'Oh there was a severed head in their fridge yesterday,' Clara said nonchalantly, like she was talking about the weather. Lestrade raised his eyebrows and blew out a long breath of air. He was surprised yet, not surprised.
'Is that the, the pink phone?' John asked as Sherlock drew put a pink cased iPhone from the letter.
'From a study in pink?' Clara asked staring excitedly at the object.
'Well it's obviously not the same phone...hang on, A study in pink?' Sherlock exclaimed naming the title of John's blog. 'You read his blog?'
'Of course I read his blog!' She retorted crossing her arms defensively.
'We all do, did you really not know the earth goes round the sun?' Lestrade asked leaning back as he teased the man. Donovan sniggered from the corner and Clara hid her smile behind her hands.
Sherlock glared at all of them before turning back to the phone. 'This isn't the same phone, though made to look like it,' He murmured looking at the connection sockets. 'Someone has gone to a lot of trouble to do so, which means your blog has a far wider readership,' he spat throwing a disdainful glare a John who ignored it.
Sherlock switched the phone on and an automated voice spoke of having one new voice message. The message plays but has no sound and everyone leans in closer. Four short beeps sound from the device followed by a longer one. Clara looks confused at the detective who gives her a glance. 'Is that it?' She asks, baffled.
'No, that's not it.' Sherlock replied looking at an image on the phone.
Lestrade who had been leaning over his shoulder said 'Well what are we supposed to make of that? A bloody real estates photo and the Greenwich pips?!'
The detective gazes into the distance for a second then comes to a conclusion. 'It's a warning.'
'A warning?' John asked,very confused though used to this sort of thing.
'Some secret societies used to send dried melon seeds, pips. It's a warning that's it's going to happen again.' Sherlock informs them brandishing the phone a Lestrade. 'Clara I'm going to need to see your bedroom.'
'Excuse me, what?' She replies very shocked. Her mind was whirling with assumptions.
'Sherlock, what's going to happen?' John interrupts trying to get a straight answer as the other man starts to leave.
'Boom!'
Clara sighed and walked after the eccentric man mumbling about show offs and drama queens.
Back in Baker Street Sherlock rounded on 221c and tried to open the door like he owned the place. He looked back at John and Lestrade briefly before shouting for Clara. The woman had been chatting with Mrs Hudson and grumbled over to the detective. 'Keys, now.' He ordered holding out an expectant hand.
'Why?' She asked meeting his firm gaze with her own brown eyes.
'I need see inside you flat,' He said like it was obvious.
'No you want to see inside my flat. Now tell me why or I'll assume the worst,' Clara replied simply.
Sherlock rolled his eyes. 'On this pink phone,' he said waving the screen at her. 'Is a picture of the inside of this flat before you moved in. Now hand over the keys.'
Clara pushed past him and unlocked the door with a stubborn set of her jaw. 'Maybe you should have a key so you can just go in wherever and whenever you please,' She snapped not liking how the man sauntered through her doorway like he lived there.
'Yes, maybe I should,' he replied making the woman bristle.
'That was sarcasm, Sherlock,' John muttered not liking the argument.
'Yes I know, I already have a key. Moulded it myself,' Sherlock whispered back making his friend splutter about personal space. The detective surveyed the rooms bit finding anything if interest. The walls hadn't been repainted, there were dirty coffee mugs placed around the house and a black kitten pawed at the hem of his pants.
Sherlock twirled around to face the owner of the apartment. 'Was there anything abnormal about this place when you first moved in?'
Clara shrugged and tried to think. 'Well there were a pair of shoes, just sitting in the corner,' She offered crossing her arms defensively.
'And what did you do with the shoes?' Sherlock asked and Clara pointed at the bin in the corner. Like a bloodhound on a scent, Sherlock bounded over to the can and dumped it on the floor.
'Hey!?' Clara exclaimed though watched as they man knelt down amongst the rubbish mostly tissues and receipts. Sherlock knelt so close that he was almost touching the laces with his nose when a phone rang, breaking the silence. He blinks then suddenly jumps up nearly knocking Lestrade over and took out the pink phone. The caller ID read 'NUMBER BLOCKED'.
'Hello?' Sherlock asked softly. He seemed to listen briefly before saying 'who is this?' Clara watched him, listening intensely. Those eyes almost let her see the cogs turning in his brain. His eyes glazed over as he murmured 'the curtain rises.'
'What?' John asks, wanting to know what his flatmate was hearing.
'Nothing.' Sherlock uttered.
'No, what did you mean?'
The detective half tuned himself towards the doctor saying 'I've been expecting this for some time.' The phone went dead and Sherlock looked at it in his palm before sighing and stuff in it in his pocket. He then recounted the phone call to the audience of three. Clara's eyes grew steadily wider in disbelief. Lestrade crossed his arms soaking in the information. John just sort of stood there.
'A crying woman, strapped to a bomb, reading some maniac message preparing to go boom if you don't solve this mystery in twelve hours,' Clara summed up her mouth agape. 'Well we have to find her don't we?'
'It's not that simple,' John breathed like he really wished it was.
'John's right.' Greg sighed. 'Who knows when the nutter makes her explode.'
'Well we can't just leave her there!' Clara exclaimed stubbornly turning on the police officer.
'As long as we solve this case everyone should be safe.' Lestrade reasoned. 'Isn't that right Sherlock?'
Holmes grunted something in response that sounded a lot like maybe. Sherlock picked up the shoes and grabbed the woman's wrist as she was about to argue more. With the shoes in one hand and Clara in the other, the detective walked out into Baker Street and hailed a cab.
.
Saint Bartholomew's hospital was the average clean and disinfectant smelling place. Clara sat on a lab stool while propping her chin up on her fists. She regarded Sherlock closely as he looked at the shoes and did important things with an important looking computer thing and a microscope. He was probably doing something basic but his suit and expression made it look genius. John wandered restlessly between the benches wanting answers. 'So who'd you suppose it was?' The doctor asked as a phone trilled somewhere.
'Hmm?' Sherlock replied absently focused on his microscope. He didn't respond to the text alert.
'The woman on the phone, the crying lady.'
'Oh her, she doesn't matter - just a hostage. No leads there.'
Clara rolled her eyes with a sort of rage. 'I wasn't thinking about leads, for God's sake!' John said sounding exasperated.
'Well, you're not going to be much use to her., The detective stated watching more no match results come up on his computer screen.
'You are trying to trace the call though?' Clara asked concerned.
'The bomber is too smart for that,' Sherlock replied as another alert went off. 'Pass me my phone.'
John looked wildly round the room for the device. 'Where is it?'
'Jacket.'
John's whole body stiffened as Sherlock said this. With his back ramrod straight, the doctor walked over to his flatmate. Clara noted his "I'm actually going to kill him" expression as John grabbed Sherlock ruffle and stuffed his hand in the inside pocket of the dark blazer. 'Careful' the detective muttered angrily. Clara watched on with raised eyebrows and a curious stare.
John struggled to keep his temper as he checked the phone. 'Text from your brother.' He informed Sherlock.
'Delete it.'
'Delete it?'
'Missile plans are out of the country, nothing we can do about it.'
'Must be important, well Mycroft thinks so anyway.' John replied. 'He's texted you eight times.'
Sherlock raised his head in annoyance. 'Then why didn't he cancel his dental appointment?' He complained to no one in particular.
'His what?' Clara asked.
'Mycroft never texts when he can talk' the detective sighed glancing at her. 'Look, Andrew West stole the plans and got his head smashed in trying to sell them. End of story. The only mystery is why my brother is so determined to bore me while someone else is being so delightfully interesting.'
'Try and remember there is a woman here who may die Sherlock,' Clara said so forcefully that he actually dragged his eyes from his microscope.
'Shouldn't we worry about her right now?' John added.
'Why? This hospital is full of people dying, doctor. How about you go cry beside them and see what good it does.' Sherlock snapped. John looked away in disbelief. He wanted to vent his anger by punching that good-for-nothing-detective-who-is-a-complete-dick but had to keep his temper in check. Sherlock himself almost fist pumped the air as his computer flashed 'SEARCH COMPLETE' just as Molly Hooper came in the room.
'Any luck?' Molly asked brightly. She has her hair in a side pony tail looking very happy.
'Oh yes,' Sherlock breathed triumphantly. Molly came over to peer at the screen when a man in his thirties also came through the door. He had short brown hair and was wearing casual clothes.
'Oh uh, sorry,' He said awkwardly intending to leave again.
'Jim, hi!' Molly held up a hand to stop him. 'Come in, come in!' Sherlock looks her up and down, the action only noticed by Clara. He was making his own deductions. 'Jim, this is Sherlock Holmes.' Molly introduced them happily. The man just smiled awkwardly.
John lookedround blankly getting ready to be introduced too. 'And, er sorry...' Molly tries to introduce but forgot his name.
'John Watson. Hi.'
'Hi,' Jim replied.
Molly then saw Clara and smiled politely though looked suspiciously between the detective and the woman. Clara ignores it and smiled. 'I'm Clara Oswald, don't think we've met'
'No, we haven't,' Molly said. 'I'm Molly Hooper. I work in the morgue here. This is Jim.'
Clara and the man exchanged polite greetings before Jim turned to Sherlock. 'So you're Sherlock Holmes, Molly's told me all about you,' he gushed.
'I bet she has,' Clara said hiding it under a coughing fit that just seemed to take her. Sherlock's eyes flicked up to meet hers, his filled with amusement and embarrassment.
'Jim works in IT upstairs. That's how we met, office romance,' Molly informed them. The couple giggled at this.
Sherlock glanced briefly at the other man and said 'Gay.'
Clara actually went into a coughing fit this time. 'Sorry, what?' Molly asked her face falling.
'Er, Nothing,' Sherlock said realising what he had just done. 'Um, hey,' he said to Jim plastering on a fake smile.
'Hey,' Jim replied admiringly. He was at Sherlock's shoulder which had basically pushed John out of the road. Jim put his hand down on the bench making a metal dish clang to the floor. John turned away while bringing a hand up to his forehead as Molly's boyfriend apologised over and over while giggling nervously. Clara wanted to face palm too but instead she smiled politely. Sherlock just looked irritated and turned back to his microscope as the dish was replaced.
Jim wandered back over to Molly. 'Well I'd better be off. See you at the Fox, bout six-ish?' He asked Molly.
'Yeah,' she nodded as Jim turned to leave.
'Bye! It was really nice to meet you,' he told Sherlock.
The detective didn't reply so John said 'You too'.
Jim looked a bit awkward for a moment but soon slipped out the door. As soon as it closed Molly turned to Sherlock. 'What do you mean gay? We're together!'
'Domestic bliss must suit you Molly, you've put on three pounds I see.'
'Two and a half'.
'Nope, three.'
'Sherlock...' John warned. Clara also looked warily at him - he was toeing the line.
'He's not gay' Molly argued angrily, 'Why do you have to spoil...? He's not!'
'With that level of personal grooming?' Sherlock snorted.
'Just because he puts product in his hair? I put product in my hair!' John retorted.
'You wash your hair, there's a difference. Tinted eyelashes, clear signs of cream round the frown lines. Then there's his underwear,' Sherlock deduced with a frustrated sigh.
'His underwear?' Both women exclaimed.
'Visible above the waist line - very visible. Very particular brand too.' He said while reaching for the metal dish Jim had knocked over. 'That plus the very suggestive fact that he left his number under this dish here.' Sherlock showed Molly the card that had indeed been underneath. 'I'd say you better break it off now to save yourself the pain.'
The poor woman looked enraged at the detective before turning round and running after her boyfriend. 'Well you're Prince Charming aren't you!' Clara growled at the man.
'Haven't heard of him,' Sherlock replied blandly.
Clara looked ready to strangle him as she rolled her eyes again furiously. 'I've had enough, I'll be back at Baker Street,' She told them loudly before grabbing her handbag and strode out of the lab.