It wasnât like Molly Hooper to be this stressed. Standing in front of her bathroom mirror, she gently began putting on a little blush.
Youâve gained at least three pounds since I last saw youâŚ
Her hand tightened around the handle of the brush as she thought of Sherlockâs hurtful words. He was always like that and she wasnât exactly smart enough to quit trying. He always ruined everything for her, even though she was so nice to him and very helpful.
âHeâs not gay, heâs not gayâŚâ Molly muttered, trying to convince herself before setting the little brush down. She picked up her lipstick now. It was a bright shade of red.
She remembered the last time she had put that shade on her lips. Sherlock didnât even notice. No surprise there.
Finishing up, Molly stood up straight and fixed the dress she wore. It wasnât too fancy, yet not too casual either. It was dark red, to her knees and had long sleeves that went to her wrists. The neckline was a turtle-neck with a shiny ring of jewels.
Her dirty blonde hair was up, a single curl resting upon her cheek. She adjusted her breasts, making sure that they didnât look too flat. She had to prove to Sherlock that Jim wasnât gay. He wasnât. He just had a bit of self-grooming. She once saw Lestrade pluck an eyelash from his eyeball- that had to be the same right?
It wasnât long until anxiety settled in. She scowled to herself, muttering once again the three words she said before, âHeâs not gay, heâs not gayâŚâ
Molly took a cab from her cozy one-bedroom apartment to The Fox which was a small bar but popular bar in the heart of London. Years ago it was run-down, not used and collected a fair number of spider-webs. Molly remembered getting a body into the morgue that was found there. It was a man, drug over-dose.
Now the pub looked old on purpose, with refurnished indoor lighting, seating and walls to match.
When she arrived at the pub, she paid the cabby and got out. Stepping onto the sidewalk, she took a moment to regain her balance. She had read somewhere that heels make a womanâs legs look longer and itâs one of the best places men love to look.
âOkay, here we go,â Molly told herself, putting on her best smile before heading inside.
She pushed past a few people, trying to get to the bar. The music was loud and the smell of cigarettes clung to the air. People hung around, drinking and laughing. She could hear cheering in the back. She figured that there was a TV on and a game of football was playing.
Molly took a seat at the last bar stool and tucked her bag close to her body. The bar tender walked over, peering down at her from his bushy eyebrows, âWhatâll you have?â he asked.
For a second Molly blanked. Her mouth parted before she quickly spoke, her voice cracking, âVodka,â she said. She never drank vodka before. Why was that the first drink that came to mind??
Cheeks burning, Molly turned away and looked around for Jim. It would be nearly impossible with all the tall men in the way. He was short. It was one of the first things they talked about.
âHeâs not coming,â said a voice beside her.
Startled, Molly turned back around and looked beside her.
Sitting on the next bar stool was a tall, very thin man with a long neck and a very fancy suit. In his hand he held a small glass of scotch. Leaning against his side, an umbrella which always kept close. He didnât look at her. He looked on, taking a light sip of his drink.
âA-Are you talking to me?â Molly stuttered, blinking her eyes.
The man inhaled deeply, setting his drink down, âMolly Hooper, your date will not be here,â he assured, âIâm afraid you have fallen for the wrong sort of person,â he explained.
âWho are you? Have you been talking to Sherlock?â Molly asked, getting defensive.
The man almost smiled. He turned his head, âMy little brother and I donât usually get along. Mycroft HolmesâŚâ he said, eyes glimmering for a moment before he turned back and sipped his drink once more.
Mollyâs mouth opened again before she clamped down, gritting her teeth, âWhat happened to Jim??â she demanded.
âThat is of none of your concern Ms. Hooper. Do contain yourself. Your anxiety can be seen all around the bar,â Mycroft replied smoothly, giving his lips a light lick after sipping from his scotch.
âAnxiety?? Iâm not nervous!â Molly said, feeling furious now.
âOh?â Mycroft asked, almost taking it as a challenge, âThen tell me why you ordered vodka and didnât correct the man? You know you got with red wine. You are also very agitated by the way you clutch your bag and the look in your eyes. You keep searching, looking for a sign of hope or possible danger. You have so much adrenaline in you that I can see the sweat stains on your dress and smell the ordure from where I sit. You were so preoccupied with what could be you didnât stop to put a littleâŚscent on you? Itâs amazing you went out at all Ms. HooperâŚâ Mycroft finished.
Molly just sat there staring. Tears formed in her eyes and she quickly looked away. She secretly sniffed herself. She had indeed forgotten deodorant.
Fed up, she grabbed her bag and glared at Mycroft, âJust like your brother! You two ruin everything! You think of nobody but yourselves!â she cried then left in a hurry without paying for her drink.
Mycroft said nothing until the bar tender came back. When he saw that she was gone, he scowled, âOi! She left!â he growled.
âAmazing observation. Itâs like the London Zoo in hereâŚâ Mycroft muttered quietly to himself then tossed a few notes onto the counter from the inside of his jacket pocket, âIâll pay for hers too,â he said, showing the bar tender the money before standing up.
Slipping through the crowd, Mycroft held onto his umbrella tightly before going outside. He walked down the street, passing people as he twirled his umbrella around. Suddenly he felt his phone vibrate.
Stopping, the oldest Holmes brother pulled his phone from his jacket and read the text on the screen.
Dear me Mr. Holmes, how kind of you to be so honest with her. Such a gentleman. See you soon.
Mycroft put his phone back into his pocket then walked off the sidewalk and went into a black SUV, shutting the door behind him before the car drove off into the night.
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