Sherlock and Molly
Molly nodded “Well I hope your experiment goes well and it isn’t true” she couldn’t help herself. Even after she sees the dead everyday, seeing what people can do to each other, she still likes to believe people are mostly good. She was hopeful, she had to be otherwise the weight of everything she has seen and knows would break her. It seemed most of the time with his extra activities, and his experiments, things somehow always went so well for him. She grabbed her folder and slide it across the table, hopping onto a chair to continue her work before Sherlock came in. She wasn’t ignoring him, she just knew he had gotten what he wanted from her and he was going to take off like he usually did. Then he would be back tomorrow with another request, another thing he would need from her without even a thank you half the time. That’s how it was pretty much everyday, but she didn’t mind, not really.
Molly fidgeted with her hands absent-mindedly, she always got slightly nervous when Sherlock was around, she felt like she always said the wrong thing, which she usually did. She knew Sherlock didn’t want to stay, he wanted go home with his hands, but she kept talking. It was like she control her mouth today, her brain just wasn’t co-operating. “So where’s John?” she asked looking at the door, she quite liked John in fact, he was nice to her and didn’t mind having her around. She reads his blog often, it was so interesting to see his side of the investigations. She had her own blog, but it was mostly about her cat Toby, and she was sure no one read hers.She knew Sherlock had a blog, she had read his, he didn’t post thing often and when he did they quite strange till John updated his blog then things would usually make sense. She was deep in thought and had almost forgotten than Sherlock was there, almost.
Molly tried not to look at him, he would always catch and give her that what-are-you-doing look and she would be embarrassed. She wondered if Sherlock ever got embarrassed, he didn’t seem to have many emotions that she expressed so frequently. She guessed that he had a good reasons, or he simply didn’t care for them. Either way, Sherlock didn’t make sense her most times, and that was part of the reason she found him so fascinating.
Though he couldn’t quite put his finger on it, Molly seemed almost upset with him. And while he knew that he sometimes could pass the line of acceptable behaviour - John was always more than willing to point such discrepancies out to him - he still couldn’t see what he might possibly have done wrong this time. He had done nothing out of the ordinary, after all. Perhaps his feigned interest at her weekend plans had been unsatisfactory. He made a mental note to improve on the next interaction, put in more effort. He couldn’t have Molly angry at him as well, he’d never get anything done, his experiments would demand much greater efforts and possibly theft.
The phone buzzed in his pocket, and he picked it up. A by now familiar string of numbers where one might have expected the name of a contact. A short, meaningless without context message on the now lit up screen: Not at all. As he wasn’t intending to answer - there was nothing to say to such a message that wouldn’t be utterly mindless or boring - he didn’t open the message, leaving it up on the screen without even bothering to unlock the keypad to check for more.
Molly talked to him again, and he looked up. Ah, yes. John. The fool had abandoned him for other pursuits. Only temporarily, of course, but no less infuriating. He spat out his answer as if the mere word was giving him a nasty feeling.
"Some stupid conference for medical staff more interested in talking over a cuppa than saving lives."
His body language was suddenly bigger, hands waving in annoyance and a wrinkle in his forehead as he frowned. The first two days of Johns absence had been perfectly fine, even enjoyable as there was nobody around to distract him from his important work. The third a notable nuisance. Today was the morning of the fourth, and his absence was becoming perfectly unacceptable. And the conference was supposed to last for a week. He might just have to make up an emergency to make him return. As a matter of fact…
"Molly, change of plans. I’m going to need to use your lab." When she was about to give him a questioning or surprised look, which she was bound to, she was after all normal and therefore predictable, he spoke up again:"It’s closer than mine."
Before even waiting for an answer, as if she would deny him this tiny little thing, he grabbed the body parts and headed towards the lab without stopping to see if she was following. Once in the lab, he walked over to the cooling facility and put the limbs in before walking over to a shelf and checking the bottles. In his excitement he discarded the phone on the table next to the microscope that he was intending to use. He mixed around with a few substances, but seemed displeased with the results. Everything was either too toxic or lacked the necessary likelihood for seemingly dangerous side-effects. Eventually he was forced to acknowledge that he wasn’t going to find a method to lure John back now. He put his coat back on, flipping up the collar as he did so.
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