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]

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.