Hey guys...been thinking of this one for awhile It will be multi chapter.

This takes place in the Victorian era...circa 1890 or so. This story is actually taken in part by one of Doyle's. I hope you all enjoy the liberties that I have taken with it.

Disclaimer: Not mine :(

Read on my lovelies!

The young woman stared up at the door which read 221 Baker Street. She had already sent a letter by post informing Mr. Sherlock Holmes that she would call upon him this morning at 9 o'clock. She swallowed hard, her nerve beginning to fail her. Perhaps she was just being silly. The position was a highly paid one and there would only be one child for her to tutor and attend too.

She started to turn and leave when the sickly feeling in her stomach reappeared with a vengeance, affirming the need to go and seek the advice of Mr. Holmes. She turned back to the door and knocked before she lost her nerve. The door was opened by a kindly elderly woman who introduced herself as Mrs. Hudson, the land lady of the building.

Mrs. Hudson led her inside and up the stairs to 221 B. Mrs. Hudson knocked and opened the door. "A young lady to see you, Sherlock," she said.

Sherlock Holmes turned from the fire place and looked shrewdly at the young woman. "Ms. Molly Hooper, I presume," he said in a deep baritone that sent shivers all through the young woman's body. "I received your letter this morning. Do come in and make yourself comfortable," he finished, gesturing to the sofa. Beside the sofa stood a fair haired man with a gentle face.

"Allow me to introduce my friend and colleague, Dr. John Watson," Sherlock said.

"How do you do, Ms. Hooper," John said smiling, offering her his hand. She stepped forward and shook his hand.

"Hello," Molly said softly.

Sherlock moved from the fire place. "Do sit down Ms. Hooper and relay to me in more detail these extraordinary events that you mentioned in your letter."

"I am not sure that you will find them extraordinary, Mr. Holmes," she said, sitting down. "I am unsure what to make of it myself. It could be nothing more than a trifle."

"Do let me be the judge of that, Ms. Hooper," Sherlock said in a commanding tone.

Molly blinked, clearly startled by his tone of voice. John cleared his throat. "Perhaps if you could just tell us what has occurred to bring you here, Ms. Hooper," he said gently as he sat down beside her.

"Very well," she said, staring at the carpet. "It was suggested to me that I contact you Mr. Holmes, by Lady McNair whom my deceased mother was good friends with. Lady McNair said that you had helped her husband find some very important political documents that were misplaced at one time and that you were very kind and thorough in your service." She did not see the amused expression that crossed Sherlock's features when she described him as kind. She looked up at him when he did not speak.

"Pray, continue," he said.

She nodded and sighed. "I am not a wealthy woman as you can see, Mr. Holmes," she said. "My father was a professor of music at University and when he died, he was able to leave us with a small amount of money. My mother and I lived comfortably, but at times it was difficult for us. I have always worked as a governess. A few weeks ago, I received a letter in the post. The letter was from a man named Rafe Little and he claimed that he had been a good friend and business partner of my late Uncle Charles Hooper. He wrote that my Uncle had died recently and having never been married and no children, that I was the sole beneficiary to what was left of his fortune."

She paused and looked at both men. "I spoke to Lady McNair about it and she suggested that I go and meet Mr. Little to discuss the terms of my late Uncle's will. I did so two weeks ago," she said.

Sherlock seemed to perk at this and he looked pointedly at her. "You meet with this man without a chaperone?" he asked.

Molly stiffened and attempted to keep her brow from narrowing. "I assure you Mr. Holmes that I am quite capable of taking care of myself. As I have no father or brother to speak for me, I am used to having to make decisions on my own frequently."

His lip quirked and she had the feeling that he was laughing at her. She found she wanted to slap the smirk from his handsome face. She blinked and looked away, shocked by where her thoughts had gone. She could feel the flush moving over her neck and prayed that he had not noticed. She dared to look up again and his smirk had widened, letting her know that he had in deed noticed.

She cleared her throat. "Shall I continue Mr. Holmes," she asked, haughtily.

"By all means, Ms. Hopper," he said with amusement glinting in his eyes.

She stared at him with hard eyes, but continued. "I met with Mr. Little and he showed me my Uncle's will and I had indeed been left a fortune. After I met with Mr. Little, I went straight away to see Lady McNair, as she often advises me now that my mother has passed away. She was thrilled for me and suggested that now that I was an independent woman, that I give notice to my current employer so as to give her time to find a suitable replacement for governess for her child. I did so, however, a few days after that, Mr. Little asked to meet with me again. Apparently, there were some complications, a few small debts to be cleared and some of the money was being held up in other business dealings of my Uncle's. Mr. Little told me that he was doing all the he could to get this matter attended too. Well, as you can imagine, I was greatly distressed as now I had no means of supporting myself. I informed Mr. Little of this, and he was very kind. He offered me a position as music teacher to his young daughter until the money could be placed in an account for me."

Sherlock's brow rose. "How very kind, indeed," he said in a tone that suggested he meant something else entirely.

"Is there something you wish to say, Mr. Holmes?" Molly asked stiffly.

Sherlock's lip quirked once again and Molly clenched her fists. "Not at all, Ms. Hooper," he said. "I was merely agreeing with you."

John sighed and rolled his eyes. "Ms. Hooper, please continue," he said gently.

Molly shifted in her seat and smiled at John. "Thank you doctor," she said. "You are very kind. As I was saying, I of course accepted the situation immediately and a few days later, I found myself at Greer House, taking charge of a lovely nine year old girl."

"Greer house is in the country?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes," she said. "Rather far actually. I have to ride my bike when I need to go anywhere I'm afraid. It is much too far to walk."

"So I observed," Sherlock said looking at her before turning to John. "Notice the scuff on the insides of both shoes John, from the pedals in the bicycle," he said. "and the brightness of her eyes. Also notice the healthy, creamy peach skin on Ms. Hooper's face. It is obvious that she engages in some form of exercise."

Molly could not help the flush that arose from her neck to her cheeks. She quickly looked down and began counting the squares in the carpet.

"It is safe to assume that you find the situation to your liking, Ms. Hooper?" Sherlock inquired, forcing her to look at him and smiling when he saw the blush on her cheeks.

"Yes…" she said slowly, ignoring the burning on her cheeks and the desire to jump over the sofa at him.

"I sense there is hesitation, Ms. Hooper," he said, still smirking. "There must be something else to this story that you have come all this way to tell me. I cannot imagine that you would purposely waste my time."

Molly's temper flared. She had come to this man for help and she had been told that he was respectful and professional. All he had done was mock her since she stepped foot into his flat.

"I apologize for wasting your time, Mr. Holmes," she bit out. "I can see that you are not the person to help me." She stood. "Good day, sir," she snapped. "Good day Dr. Watson," she said smiling.

She had just started to take a step when Sherlock spoke. "Sit down, Ms. Hooper," he bit out in a hard voice.

Molly turned to look at him and saw his face was as hard as his voice. They both stood silently glaring at one another. "I said sit down," he repeated.

"My hearing is in no way impaired, thank you very much," she snapped. "I am not used to being spoken too in such a forceful way, especially when I have come to you for help."

"That you have never been spoken too forcefully is obvious Ms. Hooper, by the risks that you take with your own safety. We're you my sister or wife…things would be very different for you, I am sure," he said. "But that is neither here nor there. Now you say that you are not used to being spoken to thusly and I say that I am not used to having my wishes disregarded. Sit down, Ms. Hooper," he said. "I will not ask it of you again."

"Sherlock…"John warned.

"What John," he asked. "She came to us for help and help her I intend to do."

Molly stared at him, biting back the indigent retort that was sitting on the tip of her tongue. Sherlock lifted his brow and wore an expression on his face that almost dared her not to do as he had asked. With an impatient huff, she sat down.

"Now Ms. Hooper, tell me why you hesitated," Sherlock said. "Something else has happened I think which is why you are here today."

Molly swallowed hard and looked down. She suddenly felt very overwhelmed and very alone. She had felt so silly coming to Sherlock Holmes in the first place and now all she felt was cold fear. She could feel the tears begin to sting her eyes. She had struggled so to stay brave as she had no family and no one to go too. But sitting there in the detective's flat with his shrewd eyes appraising her and John's kind gentle eyes waiting for her to speak, she found she could no longer hold in what she had been feeling the past week.

"Oh Mr. Holmes," she said softly. "You are right…all is not a good as I am trying to paint it. I am so frightened."

Sherlock's expression became serious and concern shown in his eyes. "Why are you frightened?"

She looked up at him with wide doe eyes that shimmered with unshed tears. "I am being followed."

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