The morgue was spotless. Clean, precise. Molly Hooper busied herself with her usual dull, mundane tasks - the bodies, for now, put away and completed, and little else to occupy her time.
Her communicator vibrated instantly in her pocket. A text message. She opened it, hesitant.
Hey babe. At work? Coming your way. I have a surprise.
Insufferable, as usual. Not that she thought so. His "attentiveness" was, to her mind, charming. She giggled to herself, blushing.
He arrived precisely 23 minutes and 52 seconds later, in full Nazi uniform.
Her jaw fell slack. Her mind was a mix of emotions and factual processes, mixing at once.
1. Apparently she found uniforms sexually appealing. 2. He had access to a full Nazi uniform.
"W-where did you get that?" She stammered, the blush making obvious her thoughts on the matter as she backed up against the slab. Her fingers gripped the cold metal.
"Thought you might like a little role play," he said with an obnoxious wink, stepping forward. His boots clipped across the floor. The uniform itself was accurate down to the stitching at the seam. "Heard you had a thing for uniforms."
She could say nothing, watching him approach. Her mind still attempting to process the conflicting information. "I- it- Y-you're very attractive," she admitted.
He stepped up close, and she took a deep breath. He raised a gloved hand, traced the outline of her jaw.
And then she finally came to her senses and slapped him, hard.
"O-out! Get out! Uniforms are symbols that have meaning, and no matter how well tailored they are, the meaning remains. Get out, and I never want to see you again!"
She didn't wait until he left, however, running from the room herself. "God," She whispered to herself, completely correctly: "Sherlock was right."
no subject
Her communicator vibrated instantly in her pocket. A text message. She opened it, hesitant.
Hey babe. At work? Coming your way. I have a surprise.
Insufferable, as usual. Not that she thought so. His "attentiveness" was, to her mind, charming. She giggled to herself, blushing.
He arrived precisely 23 minutes and 52 seconds later, in full Nazi uniform.
Her jaw fell slack. Her mind was a mix of emotions and factual processes, mixing at once.
1. Apparently she found uniforms sexually appealing.
2. He had access to a full Nazi uniform.
"W-where did you get that?" She stammered, the blush making obvious her thoughts on the matter as she backed up against the slab. Her fingers gripped the cold metal.
"Thought you might like a little role play," he said with an obnoxious wink, stepping forward. His boots clipped across the floor. The uniform itself was accurate down to the stitching at the seam. "Heard you had a thing for uniforms."
She could say nothing, watching him approach. Her mind still attempting to process the conflicting information. "I- it- Y-you're very attractive," she admitted.
He stepped up close, and she took a deep breath. He raised a gloved hand, traced the outline of her jaw.
And then she finally came to her senses and slapped him, hard.
"O-out! Get out! Uniforms are symbols that have meaning, and no matter how well tailored they are, the meaning remains. Get out, and I never want to see you again!"
She didn't wait until he left, however, running from the room herself. "God," She whispered to herself, completely correctly: "Sherlock was right."