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“You hurt her, I’ll hurt you.”
Sherlock didn’t need to look up from the body he was examining at the crime scene to know who was addressing him. Sally Donovan had a particularly distinctive voice and was the only female he knew aside from Mary who would issue such a threat. “Are you so sure I’ll hurt her?” he asked, taking out his pocket magnifier to get a better look at the powdery substance he saw on the victim’s lapel.
“Do you want the honest truth or would you like me to give you the easy and expected answer?” she asked.
That remark surprised him. He pulled his attention away from the body and looked up at her. She had her arms crossed but she didn’t look angry. Instead she appeared to simply be studying him. “I think I’d like to hear both,” he said.
“The easy and expected answer is yes, I think you’re going to hurt her. You’re a freak, after all, and that never really changes. You’re still rude and you’re still antisocial and you still don’t care if you hurt people all the time.”
He bristled at the freak remark and had to try remarkably hard not to lash back. It had been years since that term had slipped out of Donovan’s mouth, and he was rather surprised to find it still bothered him, that he still felt anger in hearing it. But she had not said that was the honest truth; what she had just told him was what the expected answer had been. And, he had to admit, he had rather expected it. He had to assume, or at least hope, that her feelings had changed. “And the honest truth?” he asked, his tone still slightly clipped despite himself.
“Even you can change,” she said. “And if there’s anyone in this world aside from John Watson you’d actually like enough to make permanent personality changes for, it would be Molly. So while I don’t think you’ll purposefully hurt her, it could still happen by accident.”
He hadn’t realized he had tensed, but he found himself relaxing when she finished. “And so you still felt the need to convey the threat,” he said, going back to the victim.
“Molly doesn’t have many friends. Loads of acquaintances, sure, but not friends. When you faked your death she pulled away from all of us for a while. We just assumed she was heartbroken over losing you, and we gave her time to grieve, but we all still worried. And then we watched her move on, and we worried less.” She paused. “Tom was a…surprise, in a lot of ways.”
“You didn’t approve,” he said, slightly surprised when he realized it.
She squatted down across from him so they were eye level. “Phillip and I had ended things by the time she started seeing Tom, but I used to listen to him ramble about some of his theories about how you faked your death. In about 90% of them she helped you in one way or another, and you gave her one hell of a good-bye snog when you were done. I didn’t actually believe him, not entirely, but I knew if there was any truth to it you’d have had to have had her help, and she would have given it to you just like she gave you everything else you ever asked for, because she adored her even when you treated her like rubbish. And adoration like that doesn’t go away easily. All I know is whenever I looked at Molly and Tom all I saw was Molly and her substitute for you. She saw more, obviously, but they didn’t seem suited for each other to me. And then you were back and…”
“Things got rocky between them,” he said quietly.
“It’s one thing knowing you’re a substitute for a dead man. It’s another when it turns out the dead man was alive all along,” she said with a slightly wry smile. “To be honest, I’d rather have had her date you than a pale imitation. When she started thinking the same thing then I knew I was right, that they weren’t suited for each other. When she called off the engagement I wasn’t surprised. What did surprise me was that neither of you made a move towards each other when it was quite obvious you care. I thought you were supposed to be some love god incarnate.”
“Don’t believe the tabloid trash,” he said, mildly amused. He looked at Donovan then. “When did your opinion of me start to change, Donovan?”
“After you took Molly out on that case that turned out to be a hoax. She came by my flat afterward with a good bottle of wine and we talked. Once you started consulting for Greg again I started paying more attention to you. You’re…different. I mean, sometimes you’re still a smug, pretentious arse who I want to slug across the face, but most of the time you aren’t. I just want to be sure these changes are on the more permanent side, because I don’t want to see Molly go back to how she was when you left. She doesn’t deserve that.”
“No, she doesn’t,” he agreed as he stood up. “I am going to do more than my best not to hurt Molly. She is quite important to me. Probably more important than you realize.” He paused. It wouldn’t hurt to have someone let him know if he was doing something too badly, and having someone like Donovan, who would look out for Molly primarily, do it seemed to be a good idea. “But if you think I am doing something that could use improvement, tell me. I will try and remain open to advice.”
“I’ll try not to beat you over the head with it,” she said, giving him a faint smile as Lestrade joined them.
“All done delivering your threat, Sally?” Lestrade asked.
“I think Sherlock and I understand each other well enough,” she said, eyeing Sherlock.
“Yes, I believe we have come to an understanding,” Sherlock said with a nod. Then he looked up at Lestrade. “Your killer should be in custody in an hour. Two at most.”
Lestrade nodded. “That’s always good to hear. Do I need to go round up anyone in particular?”
“Don’t let anyone who was in this room for the last hour the victim was alive leave,” Sherlock said, standing up. “I can tell you exactly who the killer was as soon as the sun sets.”
“Right then,” Lestrade said. “Sally, start taking statements. Round them up and put them all in the cafeteria.”
“Good choice. I’ll need access to salt water to discern the killer,” Sherlock said.
Sally stood up. “If anyone gives me lip, take note?” she asked Lestrade.
Lestrade nodded. “And if anyone tries to leave or looks especially nervous, save them for last.”
“Got it,” she said with a grin that Sherlock thought looked a little feral. He forgot how much Donovan enjoyed certain aspects of her job sometimes. She moved away from the body and left, tapping two uniformed officers on the shoulder to join her. Sherlock and Lestrade watched them go.
“So you knew she was going to issue a threat?” Sherlock asked, moving out of the way so the body could begin to be packaged up for Molly.
“Oh yeah,” Lestrade said. “She’s very close to Molly and doesn’t want to see her get hurt. I think she actually likes you now, if she didn’t go into detail about just how she’d hurt you if you broke Molly’s heart.”
“No, no details were given,” Sherlock said. “I think she was more concerned with explaining why the threat was being delivered then describing what exactly the threat entailed.”
“That’s a good sign, then,” Lestrade said. “How many dates has it been now?”
“Five. Four dinners and the film screening at the gardens. I would like to do something different for our next date, but I can’t think of anything.”
“Have you thought about taking her dancing?” Lestrade asked.
Sherlock made a face. “I abhor clubs.”
“No, I mean dancing dancing. If you know how, I mean. Molly’s been taking dance classes for months now, and she knows how to do most of the major ones. Sally started dating an instructor and he said she could bring a friend for free lessons and since she’d ended her engagement and had nothing else to do she agreed to go.” He thought for a moment. “Sally said her foxtrot and salsa are excellent, her waltz is above average and her tango is rather exquisite. Do you know how to do any of those?”
Sherlock looked surprised. How had he not known Molly was taking dancing lessons? She wasn’t keeping it a secret, was she? Then he turned his attention back to the conversation. “I have enough knowledge of most of those not to make a fool out of myself.”
“Maybe I can ask Sally if there’s room for you at the next lesson,” he said. “Or you could ask her yourself.”
“I doubt Molly would want me to intrude on time spent with a friend,” he said.
Lestrade considered it. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Still, it could be an interesting date.”
“I suppose,” he said.
“Well, should we go lend Sally a hand, or just wait around here for the sun to set?” he asked.
“You can assist your Lieutenant,” he said. “I need to begin preparing things to unmask the killer.”
Lestrade nodded. “Then you do what you need to do and I’ll see you in the canteen when you’re done.” He clapped Sherlock on the shoulder and headed off in the same direction Sally had gone off to.
Sherlock moved away from the body and the other side of the police tape. After a moment he stripped off his gloves and pulled out his mobile, dialing Molly’s number. She answered on the second ring. “Is there something I should know?” she asked.
“What?” he asked, slightly surprised.
“About this body I’m expecting,” she said. “I’m assuming that’s why you called.”
“No. Chances are the killer will have already confessed by the time you make the first incision,” he said. “I was actually calling about our next date. I heard you know how to dance?”
She laughed softly. “Sally told you about the ballroom dance lessons?”
“Lestrade did,” he corrected. “I thought that having a date where we went out for the sole purpose of dancing might interest you.”
She was quiet for a moment. “Do you know how to dance?”
“I do, at least well enough not to look like a complete imbecile.”
“Oh, that’s good,” she said, and he guessed she had a smile on her face. He could certainly hear it in her voice. “Well, the school where I’m taking my lessons is doing a big soiree next weekend. It’s to show off how good the advanced classes are, mostly, but then it will be an open floor for everyone, and there’s supposed to be a lovely dinner. If that interests you, I can pick up two tickets for us?”
“Is it black tie?” he asked.
“Oh no. Well, not for men. I have a fairly good idea what it is I should be wearing that night, and it’s on the more elegant side, but you shouldn’t have to have a tuxedo on. A nice suit will do.”
“I’ll make sure it’s very nice,” he said with a faint smile. “Something that might impress you.”
“Then I’ll definitely make sure to impress you,” she said with a warm laugh. “I have a class tonight so I’ll get all the details then and call you. Or maybe I can come over and chat?”
“When is your class over?” he asked.
“Eight.”
“I would definitely like to see you tonight, then, when you’re done with your class.”
“All right. I should be over no later than eight thirty-five or eight forty.”
“I’ll see you then,” he said before hanging up the phone. While it wasn’t an immediate date it was something she wanted to do, and that was good. And he was getting to see her tonight, which was also nice, so as long as he got to spend time with her before the big soiree next weekend he wouldn’t mind the wait too much.