At The Funeral 3

Molly stood transfixed as she watched Sherlock work, his movements akin to that of a bloodhound, as he poked and prodded at the poor girl's body. Because every member of the police force, with the exception of the DI, had been kicked out the moment Sherlock stalked into Aunt Christie's library, John had his pencil poised over his notepad, waiting for the moment Sherlock went off into his barrage of deadly accurate deductions.

"I missed seeing him work," Lestrade said as he leaned against the bookshelf next to her, Molly holding back her whimper as she saw one of her aunt's china figures come perilously close to the ledge of the shelf. "The only case he had been allowed on was the Metzger case two months back and even then he was consulted on a very minor basis."

Molly noticed John making shushing gestures at Lestrade but it was too late. Sherlock had heard. "If your foolish Superintendent hadn't been so moronic and let me in on it, that case would have been solved sooner."

John rolled his eyes. "Do your job before we get thrown out again, Sherlock."

Lestrade grinned. "Oh I don't think you would get thrown out of here," he leered at Molly. "Not while Molly owns the place."

John turned his attention to the pathologist even though Sherlock had gone back to sniffing the dead girl's mouth. "Really, Molly? This whole place is yours?"

"Obviously not," Sherlock snapped just as Molly opened her mouth. "It belonged to the dead woman in the coffin downstairs. Though Miss Hooper will be coming into some inheritance." He straightened up and glanced at her, just barely. Molly felt a familiar whooshing sensation nonetheless. "Any connection of your relative's death to this one?"

Molly shook her head and swallowed. "None, I glanced over Aunt Christie's autopsy results myself. Cause of death is clearly complications from cancer."

He nodded, and Molly, despite herself, was distracted by that one soft, bouncing curl. Sherlock steepled his fingers together, "Go through how you found her for me."

"Oh, err…" Molly began with some difficulty, wrenching her eyes away from his hair, "Mary and Conway would be able to help you with that better than me. They found the body first."

Sherlock finally gave her the full brunt of his attention and a shiver ran through her. "Then pray, do bring them in for me, Miss Hooper."

"Why are you calling her Miss Hooper all of a sudden?" John asked Sherlock as Molly left the room, Lestrade staring after her in a manner that made the doctor a tad bit uncomfortable.

Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows at his friend.

"Usually it's Molly," John clarified. "It's always Molly this and Molly that. The only time you called her Miss Hooper was at the Christmas party when you were being even more of a dick than normal."

Sherlock sniffed and focused on the DI. "Are your divorce proceedings completed, Inspector?" he said in a tone which told John that Sherlock was preparing to be his usual jerk-ass self.

Lestrade glared at him. "Yes, actually, the wife-"

"Is currently sleeping with her personal trainer," Sherlock said dismissively.

"Sherlock," John warned. Sherlock looked at his friend.

"Not good?"

Lestrade clenched his hands into fists. "I'm going to see where Molly got off to."

John stared at Lestrade's retreating back and said exasperatedly, "Bit not good, yeah."

Sherlock did not even bother pretending to look ashamed. "Now then, Doctor Watson, your diagnosis?

John knelt beside the body without preamble and cast a medical eye over it. "Death by strangulation, possibly by a rope, no finger marks have formed-"

"By the satin belt of her dress," Sherlock put in.

"Yes, yes," John nodded distractedly, "Time of death…I would put it in about ten to twelve o'clock last night."

"The room is warm and stuffy, that would delay rigor and cadaveric stiffening."

"Exactly," John agreed. "Her muscles are very well developed in some places, but I wouldn't say her age was anywhere near twenty five or so. Any other details would have to wait for the autopsy, I'm afraid. What have you found?"

Sherlock was prevented from replying by the entrance of Conway Jefferson and Mary Morstan, both looking a bit pale, with Molly bringing up the rear.

"Greg said he needed to have a talk with his squad," Molly explained, "he'll be back soon."

"Do we have to talk with that body on the floor?" Mary said quietly, her voice trembling a bit.

"Of course not!" John said kindly, looking at her encouragingly. "We can do this in another room, can't we, Sherlock?"

"Sit down on the futon, Miss…Morstan, isn't it? Don't worry; the police have already done their damage. You too, Mr. Jefferson."

John sighed and rolled his eyes at Molly, who mirrored his expression. Sherlock remained oblivious to their shared exasperation. He nodded at the two seated uncomfortably on the musty futon. "Tell me exactly how you found the body."

"We've been through this with the police before," Conway began testily.

"Then go through it again," Sherlock said irritably, collapsing onto the armchair in front of the fireplace. He cast a glance at John. "Please."

Mary Morstan swallowed and began, but addressed Molly, as if she was too nervous to look into Sherlock's piercing green-blue eyes. "Well, Conway was just about to give me a tour of the house, and he brought me here first-,"

"Why here, of all places?" Sherlock inquired, in a much more polite tone than usual.

"This room is sort of like a…attraction of sorts," Molly provided. "It has a sort of an Old English country house feel. And it was Aunt Christie's favorite room."

"Then why is it so dusty?" Sherlock said innocently.

"Aunt Christie had been ill for quite some time, Sherlock," Molly snapped. "I don't think 'cleaning the bloody library' had been high on her list. And she refused to let any of the housekeepers come in as well."

"Continue, Miss Morstan." Sherlock had turned his attention back to Mary once more.

"I don't see what else there is to say, actually," Mary replied. "I came in, saw the body, and screamed. Conway held me, I'm not very good with the dead as I would like to be, until Molly and her cousin arrived."

"I see. Do you have anything else to add, Mr. Jefferson?"

"No, not at all,-"

"Did you by any chance move the carpet?"

"What?" Conway exclaimed, while both Molly and John shared a look.

"Never mind and I think that will do," Sherlock said, suddenly cheery. "Now get out, I need to go to my mind palace."

"Your what?" Mary asked, puzzled.

"I think it's better if we go," John said, watching as his best friend leaned back into the armchair, his eyes hooded, masking the fact that his brain was probably working faster than any computer. "He won't be doing much now, just running around in his brain, trying to join the dots."

"Palace, but why did he say palace?" Conway asked as John ushered them out the door.

"Yeah well…" John said evasively, "Uh…Mary…it's Mary, right? May I interest you in a cup of tea? Molly showed me where the kitchen was."

Molly stayed behind for a while, watching Sherlock sink into a trance, his eyes moving under their lids, his slender fingers tapping out a rhythm onto the arm-rests. She could find no discernible pattern.

It was a relief in some ways, she mused, that Sherlock was back. No one needed to know what happened in those three months he was in her care. He himself did not remember them. The other three years…no. She did not need to dwell on those. He was here, alive and well. Back to where he belonged. With Doctor Watson at his side and being London's greatest crime fighting duo.

And she…needed to move on.

She was about to move past him when he grasped her wrist suddenly, startling her. She stared down at him as he looked at her, his usually clear eyes surprisingly fogged with the intensity of the thought processes running around in his brain.

"Molly," he stated calmly, even though he sounded like he was a mile away. "Could you run your fingers through my hair? It speeds up the process."

"I still haven't forgiven you or anything."

Sherlock hmmed as if he really wasn't listening, as without so much as a by-your-leave lifted her hand and sifted her fingers through his hair.

"You are a child," she said exasperatedly, but rubbed his scalp regardless. He purred contently.

"Or a cat," Molly continued. "You purr just like Toby sometimes."

'Molly,"

"I'm still mad at you. This doesn't change anything."

"Molly, shut up."

In retaliation, Molly tugged unnecessarily hard on his follicles, but that only made him purr more.

Hair kink much?

"AH!" Sherlock exclaimed, jolting upright, causing Molly to jerk her hand away in surprise. Not even two minutes had passed since he ordered her to massage his head. She stared at her fingers, surely they couldn't work miracles?

Sherlock was muttering at high speed, "That would explain the dust…no traces…she…"

He pounded his fists on the shelf in frustration and Molly bit back another exclamation as one particularly delicate china figure leaned precariously on the edge. "All messed up…curses Anderson, couldn't you wipe your sodding feet when you walked in…"

John had just opened the door when Sherlock jumped into the air, shouting, "Got it! Oh, I'm BRILLIANT!"

Sherlock's weight falling onto the floor caused the surrounding shelves to shake, and finally the china figure lost its battle with gravity.

"Oh," Molly said as John exclaimed loudly, "I used to like that."

Without another word, she walked out of the room, her head bowed and hands clenched.

"Wonderful," John told an oblivious Sherlock. "Just bloody wonderful, you overgrown man-child."

A/N: Hi dears! So sorry for the long wait, and this chapter is short to boot! But anyway, I hope you liked this. Heaps of love to those who faved, followed and reviewed- Aditi, animefan0000012345, Rocking the Redhead, Doctor WTF, Empress Of Verace, lostmypen120, drey'auc475, Lono, MisplacedHyperQuill, magicstrikes, MorbidByDefault, DarcyJayne, shepweir always, Irma Arisa Laye, SammyKatz, Cumbebabe, BlackButterflyPrincess, LaserGirl77, Raxacoricofallapatorian17, Vi-Violence, The TallTree1, AliceDayForever and the guest!

The next chapter might be a while. My beta and I are both very very busy. Also, don't tell Tiffany I don't deserve her and she's brilliant. SHHH!

However, keep a look out for a Christmassy fic ;)

Love,

Adi xoxo