Anderson ↠ BBC Sherlock

act one; seven

The next day, after spending a few hours at the hospital, Clara went back to Scotland Yard. It had been nice to have a day and a half to relax — or, relax as much as she could at a hospital — but there were things, important things, that needed to be discussed.

"Gina," she greeted, walking up to Lestrade, "you do know that your solve rate has plummeted, right?"

"Greg," Lestrade corrected. "And— yeah. I know. But—"

"But nothing," said Clara. "Holmes is in the hospital, and his condition isn't changing. You have to do something."

He winced at the reminder. "We have you."

"Lestrade, I've never done this before. I'm extremely smart, that's true, but I don't have every law, every loophole, memorized up here," she tapped the side of her head. "I don't have the experience that Holmes has, and that's what you need."

"What am I supposed to do, then?" he asked, sounding tired. "There's nobody else that's as smart as you and Sherlock, and we obviously need someone, so—"

"Holmes might not ever wake up from this, and if he doesn't, Watson won't be returning. So if you're replacing Holmes with me, temporarily or not, then you might want to replace Watson too," said Clara. It was a harsh reminder, but the truth nonetheless. "At this point, I don't really think you have an alternative."

"Do you have anyone in mind?" asked Lestrade.

Clara hesitated.

No, she wanted to say. Why would I do anything that could help you catch my friends?

"Molly Hooper," she said, instead.

"Molly H—?" he stopped, and stared. "Why the bloody hell would you ever think that's a good idea? She's a medical examiner."

"Exactly. Molly knows the laws, she knows how to find causes of death, and I'm sure she's helped Holmes on cases before, even if he never bothered to say thanks," Clara said. "I've met her once, before, too. Timid thing, really, but smart."

"No," said Lestrade.

"Why not?" asked Clara. She wasn't sure why he was so against it. Surely he respected Molly, after all the things she had no doubt done for the Yard. Why, then, was Lestrade so against her going into the field? Unless— oh. Oh. "You like her, don't you?"

"Of course I like her," said Lestrade. "We do work together on occasion, you know. It would be awkward if I didn't."

Clara stared. She wasn't sure if he was just avoiding the question, or if he actually didn't realize he was in love with her. "Okay, but you want to shag her, yeah?"

"Of course—"

She smiled, triumphantly. "Knew it."

"—not."

"Don't lie to me," Clara said. "You're a man getting a divorce, remember? It's okay to want to walk up to a girl as pretty as she is and just— kiss her. There's nothing wrong with that."

"I'm way too old—"

Clara scoffed. He was, what? Ten years older than her, if that? How ridiculous. "Lestrade, my dad is twenty years older than my mum, and that never stopped them from loving each other. Don't let it stop you."

Lestrade paused. "Your brother's never mentioned your parents before."

"He's never mentioned me, either," Clara reminded him. "But uh, Philip refuses to talk to them, so that's probably why."