Come and Play

Chapter Three ~ Meet Molly

         "And, checkmate." stated Sherlock triumphantly, as he moved his queen over to Tania's king piece and knocked it over with a swift, careless move, replacing it with his wooden queen. Tania scowled at him as she furiously watched her precious king roll helplessly off the chessboard and onto the floor. She breathed in deeply, trying to suppress her anger and frustration. No one, in the history of the proud Sorrita family line, had ever lost to an outsider in a game of chess. Never. Her chest heaved in a fit of rage when Sherlock held out his hand expectantly. With a sigh of defeat, she rummaged through her stylish purse and pulled out a £3 note, kissed it then handed the money over to Sherlock. He cringed at the strawberry-scented, crimson lipstick mark plastered symbolically over the Queen's face. He rolled his eyes, folding it in half and tucking it away inside his trench coat. "Didn't think you could afford defeat."

         Tania's blood boiled underneath her perfectly tanned skin, so she tried to remain calm. She slowly bent over and picked up her beloved king piece, inspecting it carefully in the palm of her hand. When she held the small wooden sculpture up to the light, the consulting detective looked at her with an amused expression. Sherlock turned away, dismissing it as another one of her ridiculous and pointless habits, and Tania seized that exact moment to throw the piece at his face. The sharper end of the king hit his left temple. 

"Ow!!"

          Sherlock's pink iPhone rang almost on cue, interrupting what could have been an awkward situation. Fair enough, the ringtone was the sound of four people mindlessly blabbering meaningless words at one another. It didn't take another high-functioning sociopath to figure out who was calling, and why Sherlock chose to set this rather interesting ringtone.

           "Lestrade, is the morgue ready for inspection? Good. Yes. Yes. How about the DNA samples? I'll be in the lab most of the time. Oh no, no one's coming except for John and me. Ms Sorrita? No! She says she doesn't want to come. She's got an, um, a fever. Yes, a horrible fever!" Sherlock lamely lied. "Besides, she's got, erm, childhood trauma. She's scared of bodies. And she -"

"You know, you are one of the worst liars I've ever come across." the said woman with a fever and childhood trauma interrupted. He glared at her like she'd just shot him. His crystal blue eyes flared with anger.

"No, Lestrade! She's inexperienced and she's not well. Don't make me drag her along! I swear, if you hang up on me, I'll -" the line went dead when Lestrade hung up. Sherlock cursed, flopping onto the couch. After a long pause, Sherlock closed his eyes. "Fine. You can come with us. We're going to Saint Bart's. Get dressed in a more appropriate attire."

          Tania narrowed her eyes menacingly until they had transformed into mere slits, before she elegantly left the couch and stormed up the stairs in a fit of rage. At that very moment, John innocently came down the stairs with a mug of coffee in one hand and his laptop tucked under the other arm. He heard Tania slam the door of her bedroom before he walked over to Sherlock.

"What was that?"

"Oh, I won her in a game of chess."

"Has Molly set up the body for us?"

"Yes."

"Is Tania coming?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

"God bless Lestrade! He talked you into it, didn't he?"

"He didn't talk me into it, he forced me into it."

"Oh, stop being such a spoil sport, Sherlock! Cheer up! It's not everyday an angel just arrives at your doorstep!"

"A red angel." Sherlock rolled his eyes.