A/N: I was inspired to rework the third scene from If You’re Not the One for this post. I thought it was the best representation of my headcanon, so I just removed the soulmates AU bit and edited it some more. Hope you guys like it.
Disclaimer: As per usual, I own nothing. Everything belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, BBC, Steven Moffat, and Mark Gatiss. If I owned Sherlock and Molly Hooper, then there would be a lot more Sherlolly in the show. All mistakes are mine. Reviews and constructive criticism are welcome.
Sherlock leant back against the wall in the lift. He pressed his slightly trembling hands together and rested his chin on the tips of his fingers. Shutting his eyes, he organised the case facts in his mind palace.
His first case in six months, it involved a businessman, Mr Steele, who suddenly died in his home. According to Mrs Steele, the victim did not have any illnesses and never took recreational drugs. Anderson found no wounds or bruises on the body and no possible murder weapon at the crime scene.
He had deduced that the man was poisoned, most likely by his mistress, using cyanide. All he needed was proof. So he and DI Lestrade were now on their way to look at the body, which the latter had sent to Barts for a post-mortem. I just wish the pathologists here were competent enough to reach the same conclusion as I did.
"Does Malcolm still work here?" he asked the silver-haired man.
Lestrade turned to him and shook his head, just as the DI’s text alert went off. “He had a stroke the day after you yelled at him. He’s still undergoing rehabilitation. He’s not expected to come back.” He paused as he typed on his phone. “You know, it took them a while to find a replacement.” He put the mobile back in his jacket pocket and turned to look Sherlock in the eye. “So please be gentle to the new pathologist. Let’s ease her into… well, your ways, all right?”
He rolled his eyes. “Fine.”