The Anniversary

[theonewhocounted]

When Sherlock tells her to clear her calendar on December 16th, she has no idea what he's up to. And he isn't exactly being forthcoming with the details. Every time she tries to trick him into revealing something about the plan, he is (of course) two steps ahead of her, easily sidestepping the question or only hinting at the answer. So when the morning finally comes, she has no idea what to expect. With Sherlock there is no way to prepare for or guess at what's to come, so her plan is just to go with the flow, let him lead the way. He likes to do it anyway.

He's already up when she awakens and she pulls on her robe before padding out into the sitting room to find out what he's up to. A fire is going, which is good because the rest of the flat is chilly.

Comments

[theonewhocounted]

She knows words of sentiment still aren't always easy for him, but he says them when its most important and she knows how he feels even without them. Of course she does. She's living in his flat. That in itself is a clear indicator of how he feels about her.

She turns and smiles fondly at him, her eyes saying I know.

"So where are we going to first?"

[punchmeitssubtext]

"You'll see," he replies, with a wink, before digging into his breakfast again.

*

Once they've finished their meal, he clears the dishes while she gets changed; by the time she's ready so is he, his coat collar already turned up. (And, because he knows she has a soft spot for it--not to mention because he loves seeing her wearing it after he's done with it--he's gone with the purple shirt today.) He's got her black-and-pink striped scarf in one hand, which he holds out to her with a slightly lopsided smile.

"First stop is the Hunterian Museum," he says cheerfully. "During renovations they found several uncatalogued items, and we've been invited to give a professional opinion."

[theonewhocounted]

Sherlock looks as Sherlock as ever and she smiles brightly as she takes her scarf from him. She loops it around her neck and then pulls on her winter coat. Underneath she's put on a winter jumper with little blue snowflakes all over it. He didn't mention how she should dress, so she just did her usual. If he'd wanted her to dress up, he would have mentioned it.

"We?" she asks as she buttons herself up. Most likely he means him but that's he's taking her along for the ride which is fine with her. The Hunterian Museum is one of her favourites.

[punchmeitssubtext]

"We. I mentioned I would be bringing a talented pathologist from Bart's to help me with my evaluation." He offers her his hand, his gloved fingers curling warmly around hers before they start to descend the stairs. "The collection's closed to the public for the moment, but my contact there has promised we'll have free access if we can identify the items she found."

Behind-the-scenes access to a museum of medical oddities likely isn't most people's idea of a romantic gesture, but Molly Hooper isn't most people, for which Sherlock finds himself continually grateful.

[theonewhocounted]

Molly holds on to his hand and listens as he explains what they're going to the museum to do. Her eyes light up when he mentions free access to all the exhibits. She's used to having to push her way through crowds to read all the little cards as she likes to do, and she never feels like she can look at things as long as she'd like.

"Oh, that sounds lovely. I haven't been there in ages."

And no, most people would probably not consider old surgical equipment and glass jars of tumors to be 'lovely' but she knows Sherlock won't look at her strange for her use of the word, like some others might.

"Do you know what types things we'll be trying to identify? Have they given you any idea?"

[punchmeitssubtext]

"Besides a whole crate of what was only described to me as 'mystery jars' and something she referred to as 'some sort of skeleton sculpture'? A handful of prosthetics, several antique doctors' journals that may or may not be forgeries, and a mess of surgical tools that are either proper antiques or film props."

He hails a cab for the two of them, just as he would if they were working.

"Depending on how long we spend there, we can move on to one of several other activities, but I won't press you to rush through your diagnoses."

[theonewhocounted]

"Wow," she said as she got into the cab. "i can't believe they're just discovering all that in the collection. I wonder where it was hidden."

She watched London go by as they headed for the museum, quite excited about the treasures they were going to get to look at today.

"And do I get to know what the other activities are?"

[punchmeitssubtext]

"Patience is a virtue." He squeezes her hand. "Museums often have a far larger archive than their display space will allow, and apparently most of these have been sitting in storage since the late nineties. There's an extensive effort underway to archive and catalogue all the assets and paperwork that goes with them alongside the physical renovation of the buildings, but it's still an incomplete effort."

He grins, too distracted by her smile to tense against the possibility of seeing the Aquarium out of one of the windows. (Though he knows they're not going near there, he has in fact planned the entire day so they won't have to pass by it. Sherlock is self-aware enough by now that he knows he doesn't want her having to deal with his post-traumatic stress on a special day.)

[theonewhocounted]

Molly huffs out a laugh. Sherlock talking about patience is pretty funny.

"Sounds like a big undertaking," she says. "But, I'll admit, terribly interesting."

She grins right back. He knows her too well. She's going to be in heaven poking through the old things and trying to make sense of whatever organs might be in those jars. There's a lot they have in common when it comes to solving puzzles and mysteries - hers just tend to be a little more focused on the mysteries of the human body.

"Oh, I do hope there's a brain."

[punchmeitssubtext]

"So do I," he confesses, squeezing her hand a little. Sherlock loves that Molly is so curious, that she takes as much pleasure in untangling a mystery as he does--before he met her he was absolutely certain that he couldn't be in a relationship because no one else would want to share that with him, but every day she proves him wrong. She's proven him wrong about a lot of things, and somehow he's grateful for it, happy that his perspective has shifted.

When they arrive at the museum, they're greeted by his contact, a cheerful middle-aged woman wearing trainers and a long beaded chain to keep her glasses round her neck. And though he's been rehearsing this for days inside his head, he finds his mouth is a little dry and his pulse ticks a little too fast when it's actually time for him to speak.

"Daphne, good to see you again. Molly, this is Dr Daphne Henry of the Hunterian Museum. Daphne, this is Molly Hooper of the St. Bart's pathology division, and--my girlfriend."

He's never referred to her that way before, not even in private. It's not a word he's especially fond of (see also: cuddling) but he's aware that it carries a weight for most people in casual conversation that 'partner' doesn't.

[theonewhocounted]

Molly tries not to look surprised when he uses the word 'girlfriend' to describe her. And to her credit, Daphne does her best to look like she doesn't already know who Molly is from the gossip rags.

"Pleasure to meet you," Molly says as she reaches out her hand to shake the woman's. "Sherlock has been telling me all about this new collection. I'm excited to have a look."

Underneath her calm exterior, Molly is beaming that he's finally called her his girlfriend, even if she's aware that he's mostly done it because it's the socially acceptable thing to call her. Just the fact that he's even started to care a little about how people perceive what he says and does, makes her terribly proud of him. Not that she wants him to care too much either, but she doesn't ever expect that will be a problem.

[punchmeitssubtext]

He catches the tiny microexpressions Molly isn't quite able to suppress, finds himself puffing up proudly at them. Even though she's trying not to let it show, this is clearly something she didn't expect of him--gossip rags or no, he's reluctant to share details of his emotional life with almost everyone, up to and including those most intimately involved in it.

Dr Henry, for her part, just gives them both a warm and accepting smile and a firm handshake before ushering them into the makeshift lab they've set up for the uncatalogued acquisitions.

"We have paperwork on some of it," she explains, "but most of the documentation was either lost to water damage or never existed at all. Everything we can't identify is in here, and we have an extensive set of digital photos if you need a very close look at anything."

The 'lab' is packed with old crates and cardboard boxes, among other odds and ends. A pair of card tables have been set up to accommodate the equipment Sherlock's already requested: a microscope, an iPad, a box of disposable gloves, and a set of surgical tools. It's all they really need to pick apart the mysteries in this room.

"Perfect." He glances over at Molly, mouth quirking. "Let's try and find a brain, then."

[theonewhocounted]

Molly can tell that he's feel rather proud of himself at using the word and she wonders if it'll be one of those things that once you say it once it makes saying it again easier. Or if he'll go back to pretending not to know the word at all.

She nods along to what Dr. Henry is saying and then her eyes get big at the piles of boxes that await them.

"Wow. This is....a lot of stuff."

And she can't believe they're just going to let her and Sherlock go to town in here. She smiles at him. There's got to be at least one brain in all of that.

[punchmeitssubtext]

“The problems of curating,” Dr Henry says, rather cheerfully. “Not everything can go on display, but we rarely get anything like a ‘boring’ donation, so our attic is always full of fascinating objects.”

“And here we won’t get kicked out for identifying them,” Sherlock adds as he hauls a stained cardboard box onto the table to unpack. “Back when I was, ah, traveling, I ended up at the Paris Lost and Found Museum with some time to kill. I’ve been banned till 2030 for ‘attempting to destroy the mysteries of the museum’. Bit over the top, I thought, but that’s the French for you.”

He peers down into the mess of very old newspaper he’s just disturbed. The smell of formaldehyde drifts from the box.

“Oh, Daphne, you’re too good to us.”

Carefully he reaches in and lifts out a very, very large jar... with a human head floating in it. Or something that looks a lot like a human head.

[theonewhocounted]

"There's a Lost and Found museum?" she asked, not having heard of it before.

When he opens the box, there's no mistaking the smell that hits her right away. There's definitely something interesting in there.

And she's not wrong.

"Oh. Oh my. That's...quite a bit more than a brain."

She had certainly not expected an entire head.

[punchmeitssubtext]

"Oh Lord," Dr Henry says, sounding more like someone who's just discovered her cat in the process of coughing up a hairball than a professional who's just seen a head in a jar. "I thought our intern was just exaggerating when she brought it all up from storage."

"It's perfect." Sherlock is nearly beaming. "Could you go and get us some sort of--" he gestures vaguely-- "mouth covering and goggles and such, in case we open it up?"

She shoots Molly a glance that seems to suggest she'd really like Molly to talk Sherlock out of opening the jar, but nods. "Of course. I'll be right back."

The second she's out of the room, he grins over at Molly, his expression completely and earnestly delighted.

"Seems it's also Christmas early. Where d'you think we should start with this one, consulting pathologist?"

(That's as close as he's come to having a pet name for her--though in a handful of vulnerable, intense moments, he's called her 'my Molly' without realising it.)

[theonewhocounted]

Molly reads Dr. Henry's look loud and clear. She'll do what she can to reign him in. Her and John about the only two who can manage it on occasion.

"Are we supposed to be trying to identify the person or confirm the head is real?" she asks him. She doesn't think ID would really be possible without any paperwork on it. It is pretty unlikely the person has DNA on record anywhere.

feel free to make up details about the head, btw :D

[punchmeitssubtext]

"Confirm it's real. Though I'm more curious at the moment about how old it is." He tilts the jar a bit, squinting at the bottom. "Formaldehyde's a relatively recent replacement for alcohol as a corpse preservative of choice, so it probably doesn't predate the second World War."

[theonewhocounted]

Molly looks at the head as he tilts it back and forth. The dark hair on the head, also preserved, moves back and forth.

"Well, if it is real, whoever did the preservation must have been experienced and had the right tools," she said as she looks closely at the specimen. Which points to a professional. "It's possible that maybe this was a case of someone leaving their body to science and being preserved for a university or medical school. But even so, it would have been rare - to preserve a human head.

"Maybe there are other documents or specimens in the collection that might help us date it."

[punchmeitssubtext]

"Probably. It's unlikely but not impossible it was a singular donation. Maybe left on the front steps in a basket like a Victorian orphan."

He shifts a little so she can get a better look at it. It's a gesture of consideration he rarely grants anyone, but he does it for her without a second thought.

"We don't have the original layout of the storage space to go on, as they had to move it all out to renovate the building, but we can do a little curating of our own. Pick out likely pieces that might have been part of the same collection. Though we'll get a far better idea of what that might be once we determine whether it's real or not--if it's a prop it's not likely to belong with other genuine cadaver parts. Though I'm not entirely sure why a fake head would be preserved in real formaldehyde."

[theonewhocounted]

"Yes, that seems a bit unnecessary," she says as she starts to look around at the other boxes nearby.

"Are you really proposing that we pop it open and have out with the head?"

She remembers Dr. Henry's wary look. Although she doesn't know how else they'll authenticate it without cutting into it directly. It looks real enough from what she can see, but a visual is hardly hard evidence.

From a box, she picks up a leather case and opens the latch. Inside looks to be a collection of medical instruments.

"Hm."

[punchmeitssubtext]

“Not unless we absolutely have to,” he admits. “The smell would put a damper on the rest of the plans.”

Socially oblivious as he is, even he knows that most places can and will kick you out if you stink of formaldehyde. Plus with the way this day is planned they won’t have much time to head home and change if there’s a chemical mishap of some sort.

He’s momentarily, pleasantly distracted by the sight of her bending over the box to retrieve the case of instruments.

“New jeans,” he observes approvingly, before he can stop himself.

[theonewhocounted]

Well, that's a relief to hear him say he's not planning on opening the jar. She deals with formaldehyde sometimes, but it's not really something she enjoys.

His comment about her jeans takes her by surprise - he's always doing that - and she huffs out a laugh.

"Why, Sherlock Holmes. Are you checking out my arse while we're on the job?" she teases him with a smirk over her shoulder. It fills her with strange pride that her bum can distract him even in the middle of a room full of puzzles. She's going to mark this one on the calendar and tell their children someday.

[punchmeitssubtext]

The way she looks back at him sends a sudden strange wave of what he can only describe as fondness uncurling through his chest. Not only is she profoundly physically attractive to him, but he genuinely loves how she responds to the things he says and thinks, especially when she challenges him a little.

"Yes." He moves to examine another box, though he doesn't take his eyes off her for a long moment. "It's appealing and in my line of sight."

[theonewhocounted]

"Well, when you put it that way..." she jokes as she turns to go back to the case with the medical instruments. Only he could make staring at her bum sound logical.

She pulls on some gloves before she starts pulling out the instruments and laying them on the table.

"What's in your box?"

She glances back over at him.

[punchmeitssubtext]

He rifles through it for a moment before letting out a little 'a-hah'.

"This," he declares, lifting a battered folder from the box to peer at its contents more closely. "Photographs from... looks like Merton College, or one of the others near it in Oxford. All black and white. Could see if we recognize him in one of these--we might have a professor who made a specimen of himself."

[theonewhocounted]

Molly went over to see the photos. She always did like old ones.

"Are there dates on them?" she asked as she looked over his shoulder at photos of men posed seated together looking at the camera. Looked like formal class photos. There appeared to also be some more candids in the classroom and at events.