Chapter Text
“So, where are we going?” Molly asked as they left the morgue. She’d hung her white lab coat up in the lab, revealing the pink jumper and jeans she wore underneath. It made Sally feel uncomfortably overdressed for a moment, but then she reminded herself that she didn’t actually owe Molly anything. It was actually kind of freeing; Sally didn’t have to worry about keeping tough or acting feminine, she just had to do her job.
“The family’s been notified, so we’re going to interview his wife,” Sally explained as she hailed a cab. She held the door for Molly who slid in across the bench seat while Sally settled herself on the other seat.
“Um… what… what exactly happened? To him, I mean,” Molly asked.
Sally grimaced. “Honestly, we’re not sure. His wife came home from a stay with her mother to find the entire place locked up. When she went inside, her husband was lying on his back in the center of the sitting room, already dead. She called us, and Lestrade gave it to me,” she explained. Molly sat for a minute, processing.
“This is your first case on your own, isn’t it?” Molly said acutely, more like an observation than a question. Sally sighed.
“That obvious?” Sally cursed to herself, she’d thought things were going well, but if Molly could tell she was new at this, surely everyone else would too.
“No, only you look a bit like I did the first time someone brought a body for me to autopsy.” Molly laughed a bit, good-naturedly, and Sally relaxed. “You don’t need to try so hard. It’s just me, and I’m not that hard to impress.” She chuckled again, and Sally gave a tentative smile. God, she was bad at this. How long had it been since she’d interacted with someone outside the team? Too long, apparently, seeing as she was making a fool of herself already. They sat in silence for a bit as the cab drove, before Molly asked another question.
“Couldn’t the wife have done it? It wouldn’t have been hard, she could’ve locked up after,” Molly suggested. Sally shook her head.
“No, Lestrade already checked her alibi. Her train got in a half hour before she phoned the police; he was already at least three hours dead when we got there,” Sally answered. Molly nodded and Sally could practically see her adjusting her thoughts around the new fact. The cab jolted to a stop, and before Sally could pull out her wallet, Molly dropped the fare into the cabbie’s hands and started to climb out.
“Don’t look like that, I’ll let you get the one home,” Molly said simply, putting her wallet back in her purse while she waited for Sally to get out of the cab. Sally made a mental note to do so, and then led the way up to the victim’s home.
“The wife was a little emotional the last time I saw her, you might want to let me lead,” Sally whispered, forgetting that Molly wasn’t actually investigating with her, she was just along for the ride. Molly noticed, but only smiled and nodded. The wife opened the door a moment later. “Hello, ma’am, I’m Sergeant Donovan from New Scotland Yard, this is my associate Moly Hooper, and I was hoping we could ask you just a few more questions about your husband,” Sally said, making it clear in her tone that it wasn’t a request. The wife ushered them in and offered them both drinks, which they declined.
“Ma’am, did your husband have anyone who might have wanted to hurt him?” Sally asked, pulling out her notepad in case something important came up.
“No, no, Stephen was really- really well liked,” the wife stammered. Sally nodded, but didn’t put pen to paper just yet, sensing something more was coming. The wife seemed to go back and forth in her mind for a moment before saying something more. “We-ell, there was one person… Martin Flanders, down the road? He and Stephen were always arguing, but I can’t imagine he’d do anything like this…” Sally scribbled the name down, but doubted she’d use it. Something was off here, and she couldn’t quite say what. She asked a few more cursory questions –where Martin lived, if he worked and if so did she know where, that sort of thing– before leaving. She and Molly walked to the curb.
“We’re not going to go talk to that Martin man, are we?” Molly asked, again in that peculiar tone that made it sound like she already knew the answer.
“Not yet. Something isn’t right with that wife, I just can’t figure out what,” Sally said, trying to pinpoint the origin of the feeling.
“She and her husband were on the rocks, but she didn’t say anything. And he wasn’t well-liked, next to no one liked him,” Molly commented. Sally looked over in confusion, and Molly elaborated. “Why else would she visit her mum? And there were sheets by the couch, so someone had been sleeping there recently. There were photos all over the flat of her and her friends, but none of him with his, just of him alone.” Molly shrugged, but Sally smiled.
“Good catch, Molly,” she said.
“Hang around Sherlock long enough, you start to pick things up,” Molly said, shrugging again. That made Sally frown a bit.
“I think you’ve got to be clever in the first place. After all, Holmes didn’t walk you through that. You got there on your own,” Sally said firmly.
Molly flushed but smiled. “So, where are we going next?” she asked, changing the subject.
“Next step is coffee. Then, stakeout.”