- c h a p t e r   s i x -

"Molly, why aren't you talking to me?" Emma whined, her voice being drawn out in the annoying nasal tone.

"I've already told you, I'm working," Molly said with a sigh. Her eyelids started blinking rapidly as a wave of guilt overtook her. Emma's words had made her feel bad for ignoring her friend, even though the friend in question was supposed to have work of her own to do. Instead, she was sitting around in St. Barts complaining to her.

"Okay, sorry," Molly said. "What do you need? I'm here for you." Maybe if she could just get this over with Emma would be find a reason to leave. The girl never stayed in one place for very long, Molly had noticed.

Almost instantaneously, Emma's frown flipped into a smile. "You're too sweet," she said.

"Thank you," Molly said. Had Emma been bothering her for so long just because she wanted to say that? Molly let out another sigh and started scurrying around to try and do some more work. But of course, Emma always had more to say.

"I want to talk about Sherlock and John," Emma said. "Both of them, for different reasons."

"Oh," Molly said, disappointed at what Emma was trying to say. She wouldn't admit it, but she had sort of wished her friend had been done with her first few words. "What exactly do you need to talk about?"

"Let's start with John. John. I can't stop thinking about him, I think I'm going mad," Emma said. "And by that, I mean madder than I was back in the day. I still am. I don't know."

Molly wasn't sure how she was supposed to respond to this, but Emma seemed to be waiting for her to say something.

"I'm...sorry?" Molly said.

Emma now stared at Molly blankly, tilting her head. There was definitely quite a disconnect between the two women at the moment. There was something missing, something that would actually allow them to understand one another.

Realising that this was going nowhere, Emma moved on to the next subject. "Sherlock, I don't know what to think of him."

Molly's face immediately paled and then filled with a pinkish flush. She remained silent, not wanting to say anything to embarrass herself.

"I dunno," Emma continued. "He's kind of mean, but he's also kind of hot."

Molly continued being quiet, her blush starting to turn into more of a red colour than a pink. She turned away from Emma, not wanting her friend to see her face. She bit her lip and tried to get the burning sensation to go away, but it was all in vain.

Of course, Emma had continued blabbering on, not noticing her friend's odd behavior. But when her mind ran out of words momentarily, she turned to face Molly again and finally saw.

"Is something wrong, Molly?"

"No, nothing. Just working, you know," Molly replied, her voice starting to raise in pitch.

Even Emma could tell that Molly was hiding something, but she decided not to pry despite all of her curiosity. After all, Molly had never pried when it came to her problems, she could at least do the same in return.

"I'm going out to get coffee," Emma finally announced. "Want any, Molly?" she said, secretly hoping that her friend would respond with a no.

"Oh, no thank you, I'm fine," Molly said. She was about to say more but Emma cut her off.

"Okay. Goodbye!" Emma dashed off, realising that she finally had the means to get back into 221B Baker street. She would come bearing caffeine and would be able to use that as an excuse to get in. It was so simple, perfect for her.

- - - - -

Emma was sitting back on the couch of 221B, sipping her coffee triumphantly. Despite Sherlock's protests that his coffee was wrong and therefore rendered undrinkable, she had been able to make her way in. John had been most of the driving force in this, but it was all the same to Emma.

As Emma was thinking about how it might be nice to have flask to carry around her whisky in so that she didn't have to go anywhere without it, she heard the door open and turned around. John and Sherlock had already made their way over to the woman, obviously someone who they were both familiar with.

"Boys, I need to talk to you about a few monetary things concerning the flat," Mrs. Hudson said. But as she looked further into the room, she spotted Emma. "Oh, who is this?"

Emma rose and opened her mouth to introduce herself, but Sherlock beat her to it.

"Emma Newman. Her father was murdered. We're working on her case."

Emma let out a sigh. At least he hadn't said anything about her being insane or a depressed drunk. She made her way over to Mrs. Hudson and shook hands with her.

"Nice to meet you," she said.

"I'm Mrs. Hudson," the landlady replied, sending a warm smile to this new woman. She couldn't help but wonder if there was more to it than just a case. "I'm their landlady, even though they forget that sometimes."

"Well," Emma said, unsure of where she could let this conversation go because John and Sherlock were standing right within earshot. "I'm glad to be here," she finally decided on. "It's a much nicer flat than the one I own."

"Oh, you don't say?" Mrs. Hudson said, her eyes lighting up. She had a bit of an idea. "I do have an empty flat downstairs, haven't been able to sell it for ages," she said.

"I don't know if I could afford something like that," Emma said, biting her lip.

Mrs. Hudson didn't let this bring down her spirits. "Let me write down my number, and if you're interested you can call me and I can show you around." She managed to rustle up a pen and paper, and quickly scribbled down the information for Emma.

"Thank you," Emma said, taking the paper and gently sticking into her purse. She had to admit, she had been quite intrigued to find out about this. There didn't seem to be much hope when it came to money, but perhaps she would find some way to go ahead and snag the flat.

"Now, boys," Mrs. Hudson said, turning back to Sherlock and John. "I need to go talk to you outside quickly, it's not a big deal but it's important nevertheless."

"Emma?" John said. She looked up to adknowledge she had heard him. "Are you going to be okay in the flat by yourself?"

"Hm?" Emma said,at first, giving herself a few more seconds to figure out what was going on. "Oh, uh, yeah! I'll be fine, don't worry about me."

Sherlock looked less than happy about the fact that Emma was going to be left alone in there, but he didn't protest. Emma just went ahead and sat down on the couch, pulling out the piece of paper Mrs. Hudson had given her and beginning to doodle around the numbers and letters. Sherlock saw just how simple she was, and she probably wouldn't end up causing too much harm. With a sigh, he followed Mrs. Hudson and John out the door.

Even when the door had been shut, Emma could still hear muted versions of their conversations through it. The door really needed some soundproofing or something of the like.

"Ah, Emma seems like a nice girl," Mrs. Hudson said.

"She seems like it, yes," Sherlock said. There was the definite hint of a "but" in his words, but Mrs. Hudson cut him off before he could continue.

"John, is she another one of your girlfriends?" Mrs. Hudson said. With a slight roll of her eyes but a smile on her lips, Emma listened for the response. She was quite interested in what John was going to say in order to respond to it.

"No," John said, a bit too late as if he had been thinking about it.

"He wants her to be, though," Sherlock said. Emma realised that their voices were getting fainter and fainter as they walked a little farther away.

"Shut up," John said.

"I suppose that means she's not your girlfriend then, Sherlock?" But this time, they ended up being too far away for Emma to hear the response. That was kind of a shame, she thought. Surely Sherlock would have said something new to bring her down, and Emma always wanted to know what people were saying about her no matter how horrible it was.

But now that Emma didn't have anything more to listen to, she had been left to her own devices. Of course, she already had an idea of what she wanted to do.

Sherlock and John had made quite a big mistake in leaving Emma alone for an extended amount of time. She had been wanting to get her chance to snoop around 221B ever since she had met the two of them. Now was the perfect opportunity to do just that.

Humming lightly to herself, trying to hit the low notes that she played on her cello, Emma quietly lifted herself from the chair. She didn't know how long Sherlock and John would be, and she didn't want to risk making too much noise.

Of course, she was being a bit more cautious than she needed to be, but it didn't matter to her. After all, no one was there to watch her anyways. She just didn't want to end up getting in trouble with anyone. It didn't matter if it was John, or Sherlock, or even the sweet seeming Mrs. Hudson. Emma had always gotten in trouble with people in the past, and this wasn't something she wanted to deal with.

Emma continued humming, remembering the notes on the page as they flew through her head. She was trying to memorise the song on the cello, and it was beginning to make its way in her head. Sometimes it seemed that the only thing that she could actually retain was music. But Emma didn't want to think about all of the pain of her past. For the moment, all she wanted to do was snoop around the flat.

But just as the last few measures of the song resonated out from Emma's lips, still in a gentle hum, she noticed that the oven was on. Putting a hand near the appliance and feeling the heat resonating off of it just confirmed it for her. Maybe looking in to other people's ovens was a bit creepy and strange, but she didn't mind.

The fact of the matter was, drawing was not enough to entertain her at the moment because every sketch just ended up in her wishing she had never tried in the first place. Emma was curious about every last inch of 221B, and when consulting Sherlock about the case she hadn't been able to learn much.

As Emma stood there, deciding what she was going to do, she suddenly took in a big whiff of the air around her. She had to admit, it smelled quite delicious, like well cooked meat. Just standing there was enough to make her stomach growl. She realised that she hadn't eaten a thing since the morning, and the smell started to make saliva rise up in her mouth. She was practically drooling over this piece of meat.

Sherlock and John wouldn't notice if she took just a small piece, now would they? Emma justified everything in her head in strange ways, but she didn't mind. As long as it made sense to her, nothing else mattered. Before she could convince herself out of opening the oven, which would happen just as easily as convincing herself to do it, she prepared herself to go ahead.

A mischevious smile spread across her face, Emma put her hand on the oven door and braced herself for the wave of warmth that was bound to come out when she opened it. Excitement tingled within her and made her heart beat a bit faster. She wasn't sure why she was just so thrilled to be looking in an oven, but something was definitely intriguing about it.

With a deep breath, Emma went ahead and opened up the oven. Within a second, her smug sort of smile had melted away into a look of sheer horror.

She let out a bloodcurling scream as her eyes flicked themselves shut.

Emma slammed the oven door shut and immediately ran away as if the contents could jump out and attack her. She found herself hiding behind the couch, fighting the urge to let out another scream.

Now she heard footsteps rushing towards her, and she knew it had to be John and Sherlock. Emma breathed in and out, turning around so that her back was leaning against the seat cushions of the couch. At least she didn't have to look at the infernal oven anymore.

John rushed up to her and immediately looked around to see if there was anyone in the flat. Sometimes things like that could happen, what with Sherlock being a bit of a target. It was possible that Emma had been attacked, them getting through her in order to reach the consulting detective. But John didn't spot any sign of physical injury on her.

Sherlock trailed in behind John, obviously not disturbed by the sudden scream. He had already figured out what was going on, and he had hardly been in the room for a moment. He saw the concern written all over his friend's face and let out a little sigh. There was bound to be yet another interaction with Emma that went on for far too long.

"Emma," John said, as he crouched down next to her. She had wrapped her arms around herself as she rocked back and forth slightly. "Emma, what happened?"

At first, she didn't respond. She was in shock, so it was to be expected. With a shudder, she forced her mouth open and then sound to come out.

"There's a dead body...there's a dead body in your oven!" she explained, her voice shaky and breathy from deathly fear.

"It's not a dead body," Sherlock said, as if it should be obvious. She looked over at him, her eyes widened to the point of popping out. Emma began to calm down for a moment, taking longer and deeper breaths. He had reassured her, just in the tiniest bit. But it turned out that he wasn't done.

"It's just a torso."

Emma's eyes and mouth gaped open in fear. "Why do you have a bloody torso in your oven?" she squeaked out, before she fell prey to a wave of tears. There was nothing she could do to help it, she was terrified. She had been quite unsure of what Sherlock was capable of doing, but this had never been a thought that had occured to her.

In order to soothe her horror, John put a comforting arm around Emma. She didn't resist it at all. In fact, she sort of melted into it. She was exhausted and sick of holding herself up. After all, she had just gotten quite a scare.

"But...but..." Emma started to stutter, looking in the general direction of Sherlock but straight ahead so that she was eye level with his shins. Her eyelids closed and opened as she blinked sporadically.

"Sh, sh," John said, shushing her and pulling her just the tiniest bit closer to him. But it wasn't enough to stop her.

"But why...why did you have a torso in the oven? Why? Why?"

"Well, it was an experiement, of course," Sherlock said. "Why else would anyone have a torso in their oven?"

"Sherlock, that's enough," John said. But the two of them were not done.

"An experiment for what, and why a torso?" Emma blubbered out.

"Simply, I was testing the effects of heat on a dead body, and a whole dead body can't fit into an oven so I decided that I might as well opt for the next best thing, a torso."

Emma's mouth opened as if she had more to say, but no sound came out. Instead, she just started crying, burying her face into her hands.

John shook his head and sighed. This was only getting worse and worse, and Sherlock wasn't doing anything to help. He gave his friend a bit of a look.

Sherlock rolled his eyes in return as he said, "The shock will wear off soon enough, she'll get used it to it if she sticks around for much longer."

"Get used to it? She isn't exactly an army veteran or a murder detective, Sherlock."

Finally, Emma found herself starting to calm down. She still had words flying around in her head, but none of them formed into a real sentence. Her mind was still much too scrambled to do anything. Instead of trying to think any harder about it, she hugged her knees close to her chest and frowned.

Emma was now extremely glad that she had decided not to spend more time with Molly, as she would have been seeing dead body after dead body and that would have been far too much for her. Just this portion of a body had brought her down into tears.

Curiosity made not have killed the cat, but it certainly mentally scarred her for eternity.

A/N Another chapter down. This was an interesting one, that's for sure. I suppose it is kind of a filler chapter, but I do enjoy it regardless. As I was reading through this I was reminded of my Molly Hooper RP account on here. Hehe. Oh well. If you enjoyed it, make sure to vote and comment! Thanks to all for reading this, it's probably my most successful story yet. Thanks again!