Chapter Text
Sherlock was trawling through the internet looking for interesting cases as his inbox was currently empty. Now that Mary was nearing eight months in her pregnancy John had decided to drastically cut back being at Sherlock’s beck and call and so Sherlock was reduced to looking for cases himself. He was just about to give up and close the internet page he was on when something caught his eye.
‘Great Detective Cracks Missing Person Case’.
Sherlock’s eyes narrowed. He hadn’t solved a missing person case for several weeks. He scrolled down the page and then his mind went blank as he realised that the ‘Great Detective’ they were referring to wasn’t him! He scrolled further down the page to the picture underneath. The man standing proudly was tall, dark and handsome. Sherlock enlarged the picture and studied the man thoughtfully. There was something not quite right about him. Great detective my foot, he scoffed. He took note of the man’s name, Remington Steele, head of the Remington Steele Detective Agency based in Los Angeles.
Sherlock immediately started planning his trip to LA to thwart this ‘Remington Steele’. (What sort of a name was that anyway?!) He’d need a cover, he mused thoughtfully. He then studied the other occupant of the room (the person who owned the flat he was currently using as a bolthole) Molly Hooper, pathologist of St. Barts. She was curled up in an armchair, reading a book, her glasses slipping down her nose and her hair coming out of its ponytail. Sherlock thought she had never looked lovelier. Perhaps a trip to LA would help him to take the first step to starting a relationship with her.
“Molly?” Molly hummed at him, a sure sign that she had got to a good bit in her book but he pressed his luck.
“Molly!” He stated more firmly. Molly’s head shot up, a slight frown on her face.
“What Sherlock?” She huffed at him.
“Fancy a trip to LA?” Molly’s mouth fell open.
“What? Why?”
“Because I need you for a case. Because if this man….” Sherlock showed her the picture on his laptop, “… is a detective, I will eat my deerstalker”.
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So that was how Molly found herself in one of the Presidential Suites in the Four Seasons Hotel in Los Angeles looking out of one of the windows at the magnificent view. Dressed in a very expensive dress with her hair professionally done and a big shiny diamond engagement ring to go with her big 24 carat gold wedding ring sparkling on her finger. Her ‘husband’ of five years Scott Morstan (aka Sherlock) stood behind her fiddling with his cufflinks (how he hated those!) and cursing under his breath.
“So you’re taking me out for dinner?” Molly clarified disbelievingly. Sherlock looked up from trying to fasten his cufflinks to frown with annoyance at her.
“It’s part of the plan, yes.” His attention returned to the cufflinks and he was somewhat bemused when Molly’s fingers brushed his own aside to fasten them for him.
“You don’t like cufflinks, so why are you wearing them?” She stared up at him, smirking slightly.
“To look the part obviously.” He put his jacket on and then picked up Molly’s wrap which he then draped over her before offering her his arm. “Are you ready, Mrs Morstan?” He grinned at her.
“As I’ll ever be, Mr Morstan” She replied taking his arm and giving it a quick squeeze.
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It all happened so suddenly. Molly had gone to the rest room to use the facilities and the next thing she knew she was being held up at gunpoint by a masked man who demanded her jewellery. All hell had broken loose and now she was sat at the table in the restaurant with ‘Scott’ sat next to her, comforting her and being asked questions by a policeman.
“Well, I think that’s all for now ma’am.” The police officer concluded. “We’ll be in touch”. He nodded at her, ‘Scott’ stood up and shook hands with him and then Molly and Sherlock left the restaurant.
Sherlock bundled Molly into a taxi and ushered her back to their suite. Once inside Molly collapsed onto the sofa, and Sherlock could see she was still shaking.
“I am s-so s-sorry, Sherlock. Th-those rings must have cost a fo-fortune” She stuttered, tears rolling down her face.
“Well that was the whole point, wasn’t it?” Sherlock rubbed his hands in glee. “I thought it all went rather well. Why are you shaking Molly? Are you cold?”
Molly slowly turned to him a flush appearing on her face.
“It was you? You did this?” She stood up from the sofa and paced towards him. Sherlock for some inexplicable reason found himself walking backwards away from her.
“Not me personally, Molly. I got a man who owed me a favour to do it.” He frowned in confusion. “Don’t glare at me, Molly. You already knew this.”
“I did not!” Molly shouted. “When? When did you tell me that I was going to be held at gunpoint while I was in the loo?”
Sherlock had backed himself into a corner and Molly was stood so close to him, he could see the tears brimming in her eyes.
“On the plane?” He queried, half to himself. “Umm… Actually might have had that conversation with mind Molly” He admitted.
Molly opened her mouth to shout at him again and then shut it again. “Mind Molly?”
“Hmm. The Molly that is in my Mind Palace. I think I might have told her and not you, sorry.”
“What other conversations do you have with her?” Molly asked faintly. Sherlock shifted a faint flush on his cheeks.
“I really am sorry, Molly.” He evaded her question. Molly bent her head, quickly stepping away from him.
“Well, this Molly is going to go to bed. Goodnight Sherlock”. She turned from him, practically falling over her dress to get away.
“Oh, ok. I’ll be in a bit later.” Sherlock muttered, taking off his jacket and undoing his cufflinks. Molly halted before whirling round to face him.
“Sorry, what? You’ll be in where?” She squeaked.
Sherlock rolled his eyes. “In the bedroom, obviously.”
“You’re not sleeping with me!” Molly thundered. “This is the presidential suite, there is more than one bedroom, use one of those.”
Sherlock scoffed. “We need to look the part, Molly. When Remington Steele looks round our apartment tomorrow we don’t want it being obvious we slept in separate bedrooms. I didn’t think it would be a problem, I’ve slept in your bed with you before.” He finished challengingly.
“That was different, there was only the one bed and my sofa is much too small for me, let alone you. Well, I suppose it is a king size bed” Sherlock smirked, Molly glared at him. “Just don’t snore in my ear like you usually do!” Molly snapped back before walking into the bedroom and slamming the door.
Sherlock waited ten minutes before cautiously opening the door to the bedroom to find Molly half in and half out of her dress, struggling.
“Do you need some help?” Sherlock queried, trying not to laugh at the sight of her.
“If you bloody laugh, I’ll kill you. My hair is caught in the zip.” Molly’s voice was muffled as her head was currently inside her dress. Sherlock paused for a second to make sure that he had committed the sight of Molly in (mostly) just her underwear to memory before stepping in and gently disentangling her hair from the zip. Molly’s face was red when she finally reappeared from the dress and she uttered a curt thank you before taking her night clothes and disappearing into the ensuite bathroom.
Sherlock changed and got into bed. When Molly reappeared he pretended to be asleep and she got into bed silently, turning away from him and switching off the light. Sherlock had been hoping that they would have ‘the talk’ this evening and wondered how he had managed to mess it up so badly.
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They were in the lift on the way up to the offices of the Remington Steele Detective Agency. Molly was still in a mood with Sherlock and he didn’t know whether it was because of the mock mugging or his ‘mind Molly’ comment.
“When we get out of the lift we need to act like we are cross with one another.” Sherlock explained quickly. “I blame you for giving the rings away so easily and you obviously aren’t happy that I think that.”
“So I’m cross with you too?” Molly clarified. Sherlock nodded. The lift pinged and Sherlock and Molly stepped out.
“Honestly Molly you must have realised that the gun was fake, anybody could see that!” Scott (aka Sherlock) thundered at her. The door to the offices opened and Mr Steele himself walked out.
“You absolute bastard!” Molly yelled. Her hand flashed out and landed on Sherlock’s face in a ringing slap. She slapped him harder than that time he was on drugs. Sherlock’s face was a picture, Molly thought with satisfaction as she could see the genuine shock on his face. Good. She promptly burst into fake tears and not looking where she was going, turned and landed on a broad chest. Remington Steele’s chest.
“Oh there, there, Mrs……….?” A voice lighter than Sherlock’s but much warmer. Molly’s head shot up to look into the handsome face of Remington Steele. She stepped back, wiping the tears from her very red face.
“Morstan. Mr and Mrs Morstan” Sherlock stepped in, offering his hand to Steele who shook it warmly. Sherlock took Molly’s arm and squeezed warningly. Molly still looked quite dazed. “You are Remington Steele, aren’t you? We need your help.”
“Then come in, come in.” Steele waved his hand at the door and ushered them into the reception area. “Miss Wolf, would you mind making some tea for our Clients?”.
“But Mr Steele, Miss Holt’s not here yet”.
“I’m sure I can cope on my own, Miss Wolf”. Steele smiled ingratiatingly at her.
“It’s Miss Fox” She muttered crossly to herself.
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Molly wasn’t really listening as Sherlock told Remington Steele all about the ordeal last night. Mr Steele asked her a few questions which she answered quite honestly but she was too busy comparing the two men. Steele was slightly taller, his dark hair curl free and his mouth lacked Sherlock’s cupid bow lips but otherwise they could be twins. He had impeccable manners and was very charming. Two things that Sherlock completely lacked.
“I think my wife is still in shock.” Sherlock put his arm round her and then gently kissed her on the cheek. Molly’s insides melted. It was no good, it was still him she wanted.
“Yes of course” Steele responded quickly. “There are several leads that Miss Holt and I can follow. I’ll be in touch, Mr Morstan.” He shook hands with them both, keeping hold of Molly’s hands for slightly longer and then they left.
Sherlock waited until they were alone in the lift before speaking.
“I was completely correct, the man’s an idiot.” He smirked smugly.
“Really? He seemed ok to me.” Sherlock frowned down at Molly.
“Yes, you did seem quite taken with him. No, he has no deductive skills. He can't even get the name of his receptionist right.”
“That doesn’t mean anything! You can’t get Greg’s name right” Molly objected. Sherlock looked confused.
“Greg?”
“Detective Inspector Lestrade!” Molly shot back. Sherlock’s face cleared and then pursed his lips.
“Hardly the same thing.” He sniffed. He looked at his watch. “I think we’ve got time for lunch before the next act begins.”
“What happens next then?”
“He’ll go to the restaurant and hopefully pick up the clues I left at the scene that will indicate that one of us is responsible. Then they will question us separately. Miss Holt will question you and Mr Steele (Sherlock practically spat out his name) will question me.”
They exited the lift not seeing the brown haired woman staring after them, mouth agape in astonishment.
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Laura practically threw herself into Steele’s office. He was sat behind his desk, thoughtfully playing with a pen. He looked up.
“What have you done?” Laura yelled at him. Steele raised his eyebrow.
“We have a case, Laura, you just missed Mr and Mrs Morstan. Mrs Morstan was held at gunpoint and had her jewellery stolen.” Steele seemed quite excited.
“Mr and Mrs Morstan! Is Mr Morstan, tall, dark hair, slim, while Mrs Morstan is small, brown hair?” Laura queried icily.
“You saw them?” Steele smiled at her. “Quite the charming couple, I thought.”
“That man is not Mr Morstan!” Laura exclaimed. “His name is Sherlock Holmes. Have you heard of Sherlock Holmes, Mr Steele?”. She placed her hands on the desk leaning towards him with a dark glare.
Steele thought for a moment and then shook his head.
“He’s a consulting detective for New Scotland Yard. He must to on to us, on to you. What did you tell him?” Laura was sounding frantic.
“Calm down Laura.” Steele soothed. He got up out of his chair and gathered her into his arms, gently stroking her back. “I didn’t tell him anything.”
Laura had calmed down and extracted herself from Steele’s arms, much to his annoyance.
“We find out what we can about them, especially who he’s with and I know just who to contact. Then you and I will pay them a visit.” Laura smiled grimly. “Let’s see if we can find out what they’re up to.”