How to Play a Game Called Murder

Chapter 24: A Red Magnifying Glass

Sherlock was watching Molly out of the corner of his eye as they drove up and parked outside of the large brick home that he had grown up in just as the sun was setting. There was a light showing through the front window. No doubt his parents were inside, getting everything set up for dinner.

He saw a bit of trepidation in her expression as she eyed the house and reached over to take her hand while ignoring the twitch of the curtain that told him his mother or father, possibly both, were watching them from the window.

“Come on, I’ll show you where the lab is.”

She was examining his home as they clambered out of the vehicle and started up the walk. “Who lives here, Sherlock?”

“Not important right now.” His mouth pressed into a line as he avoided the question, afraid she would run for the hills if she knew exactly where they were.

She giggled, uneasily. “If we are trespassing, I kinda need to know so I can dodge the bullets.”

Sherlock had to stop and put his hands on his knees he was laughing so hard. The mental image of his mother shooting at them from the stoop was highly amusing.

In between guffaws he managed to rasp out, “If she didn’t shoot Mary, she definitely won’t shoot you.”

Molly looked alarmed at that statement, starting to put two and two together and she glanced nervously at the house as Sherlock guided her past it and towards a much smaller brick building some distance behind it.

There was a chain with a lock around the handle when they got to the metal door, but Sherlock produced a key. He was tempted to show off his lock picking skills but remembered that she had witnessed them before, when he'd picked his way into the bath her first night at Baker Street and also when he’d picked his way into her flat and fell asleep on her couch waiting for her to get home from faking his autopsy. (That had been an interesting awakening. She’d screamed bloody murder when she saw him.)

He hadn’t been into his makeshift lab in some years so it took some muscle to pry the door open. He put his shoulder against it and pushed, almost falling into the musty room when the door gave way. Walking in, he immediately noticed that one of the Plexiglas panels in the ceiling had been removed and there were signs of entry. Well that explains how the door was still rusted shut.

There was a thick layer of dust on the metal tables. Molly sneezed violently the second she set foot into the room but recovered quickly. Sherlock flipped a light switch and the fluorescents popped and flickered before brightening and showing the contents of the well-stocked room to a speechless Molly.

Walking partway into the room, she took in the sight of the tables, strewn with jars, boxes of blank slides and gloves. A faded lab coat hung over the back of the single chair in the room, along with a pair of goggles.

Molly turned slowly to face Sherlock, who still leaned against the door frame, his expression a mixture of pride and looking for approval.

“This was all yours?”

He nodded and she stared at him, her mouth agape.

“Do you have any idea what I would have given to have had something like this as a child? Hell, I’d have settled for just a microscope! Do you know how lucky you are?”

Sherlock grinned like a little kid and nodded.

“This was my favorite place in the world. Here, I was smarter than Mycroft. This was always the one area I could best him.”

He went pensive and Molly touched his arm. “Sherlock, you are brilliant.”

He shrugged. “We thought I was stupid before we met other children.”

Molly gave him an incredulous look. “Honestly, Sherlock. How could you ever think that?”

Sighing, he sat on one of the tables. “Well, I always had so much trouble controlling my mind. Ordering it into something that made sense. So many thoughts went through my head all at the same time, it drove me crazy.”

“Is that why you started taking drugs?”

He nodded, ashamed. “Mycroft could always make sense of his brain. It was so much harder for me to learn to control myself. To shut out the unimportant and focus on the tiny bits of information that I needed. The drugs helped. The morphine shut me down. I could have peace. The cocaine, well, it made me function faster. The come down was terrible though and eventually, the tiny bits of relief I got weren’t worth the after effects.”

“That’s when you finally went to rehab?”

“Yes.” He shuddered. “I hated that place. It felt like a prison.”

Molly sucked her bottom lip into her mouth, pensively. “I remember what you were like when you were taking. It, well, it wasn’t pretty.” He nodded and she sucked in a breath before continuing. “I was so upset when you relapsed.”

He started to protest that he hadn’t relapsed but she stopped him.

“I know, I know, it was just for a case and now I know most of the story but it was still incredibly disappointing Sherlock.”

She moved towards him and cupped his jaw in her hands.

“I meant what I said. You are brilliant. And it is terrible when you waste your gifts. But I understand that you have trouble with it. I’m just glad that you found another way to deal with it.”

She let go of his face and he grabbed her hands, enveloping them in his much larger ones.

“You help me deal with it,” he said, seriously.

She laughed. “I meant solving cases, Sherlock.”

“You’re so much better than a case.”

“That might be the highest compliment you can give. I’m flattered.” Molly smirked, her words only slightly sarcastic.

He hopped off the table and planted a chaste kiss on her lips.

“Come on, let’s find this clue and get back up to the house. Dinner should be ready soon and I’m starving.” He rubbed his hands together, his eyes darting around the room, ignoring Molly’s alarmed expression.

“Dinner?” she tentatively questioned.

“Clue first.” He responded distractedly.

“Okay then.”

Molly walked slowly the room, peering down at the items strewn about. Sherlock stood in one place, comparing the room to his memory of it and searching for differences. There was something out of place, he just couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

“Ah ha!” He clapped his hands together, startling Molly. “There.” He pointed to a magnifying glass with a shiny red handle. “That isn’t mine.” He pointed to another table. “That one is mine.” His was rusty and had duct tape around the handle. Molly smiled at its obvious overuse.

Sherlock and Molly both moved to look it, and noticed that it was positioned over another cipher, also done in yellow paint, but too small to make out without the magnifying glass. Sherlock grinned and took out his phone to snap a picture.

“Well, our work here is finished.” He rubbed his hands on his pants, looking around at the dusty old room one last time before heading to the door.

Molly joined him and he flipped the switch, plunging the lab into darkness again before closing the door and locking it behind them.

“You know,” he said, glancing sidelong at Molly as they walked away from the building. “We could rent the basement flat from Mrs. Hudson and turn it into our own lab. I always thought about doing it but never got around to it.”

“Why didn’t you?” she inquired. “I’m sure that would’ve been so much more convenient for you.”

He flushed and mumbled, “I liked going to Bart’s to see you.”

She smiled and linked her arm through his as they made their way up to the house.