Sherlolly One Shots

Valentine's Day - Sherlolly (Sherlock x Molly) One Shot

The morgue was colder than ever, as Molly Hooper prepared six bodies for Sherlock to inspect. Having already examined the bodies, Molly knew that each man had multiple gunshot wounds, from a weapon that was something along the lines of an old-fashioned Thompson sub-machine gun. Although she had immediately recognised the probable reason for this, she kept it to herself in the hope that Mr Holmes would be with her for longer. There was no denying that she'd fallen for the tall, dark, handsome madman, but all her fears and concerns that nothing would ever come of it seemed to disappear when he was in the room. A smile curled her cherry-red lips, a new colour she had purchased for today. He was standing in the doorway. “Hello Sherlock,” she spoke softly, rounding to see a flicker of a smile before he was down to business.

“Molly,” he nodded. “What can you tell me?”

“Nothing you won't see.”

Sherlock quickly inspected the first body, touching a gloved finger to the bullet wound. Molly removed her own gloves and placed them into a bin. Keeping her eyes firmly on Sherlock, she savoured the warmth of the water as she washed her winter-chilled hands.

“Tommy gun?” Sherlock asked.

“Or replica,” she replied.

“They were found together?”

She nodded, “Lined up against a wall.”

“Execution?”

“I think so.”

“You have a theory?”

“Yes. Don't you?”

Sherlock's eyes glowed a dangerous blue, before softening into a questioning look, “Of course. This is evidently a mobster-style punishment, most commonly known to happen during Prohibition in 1930's America. It's more than likely that the boss was not present at the shooting, but it's not indicative of any of the big criminals I've come across. This seems to be a very small-time thing, and very boring. Have I missed anything?”

“Do you know why they were killed?” Molly visibly shivered and wrapped her cardigan tightly around herself.

“It must have been a business dispute to involve this many people, but the business is irrelevant. Drugs are almost certainly a part, and that's what the police will be able to charge the murderers with, unless a weapon is found... although why this was carried out in such a way, when being caught was so imminent...”

Molly bit her lip nervously, wondering whether or not to voice her thoughts. She subconsciously rubbed her arms, both trying to warm up, and comfort herself. Sherlock, as though reading her mind, looked up from one of the bodies, “You have an idea?”

“Do you happen to know the date?” she asked quietly.

“It's February. Other than that, no.”

“It's February 14th, Sherlock,” she smiled affectionately, “Valentine's Day.”

She saw a flash of understanding cross his intense eyes, urging her, “Go on.”

She shivered once again as she moved to stand across the body from Sherlock, “I'd say that the murderer wanted to be caught, wanted to be lorded as an old-fashioned gangster. He took his inspiration from Al Capone, and wanted so badly to be a part of that era, that he recreated the Valentine's Day Massacre.”

Throughout her speech, Molly had been staring intently at the table, only realising that Sherlock had moved when she felt the warmth of his jacket draped around her shoulders. Sherlock's arm stayed around her, holding his coat in place for a little longer than he would have with anyone else, and whispered lowly into her ear, his warm breath playing on her neck and giving her much nicer goosebumps, “You, Molly Hooper, are fantastic."