Molly tried to stay strong as she pulled out the slab. Her friend Emily had just been killed, leaving behind a beautiful baby girl and a loving fiancée. She had only gotten the invitation for their wedding last weekend and they had asked her to be a bridesmaid. Molly had been prepared to go dress shopping later that week, but now she didn't have to. But the terrible thing was she had been set to do the autopsy.
Molly had tried to ask her boss to give the task to someone else, but her boss was practically heartless. Molly had only asked once, and had been too polite about it because in truth she was scared of her own boss. Pathology was the only thing Molly truly had left in the world, and she did not want to lose it.
Molly stood there, looking down at the body bag for countless minutes. She had saved this body for last, in fear that she would take too long with her and never get to the others. It felt so vulgar to think of the body of her best friend as just a dead body. But she had to keep perspective and distance. I'm doing this for Michael. He can know what happened to her and she wouldn't have died for nothing. He can tell his baby girl when she was old enough what had happened to her mother she thought to herself. Molly brushed her fingers against the zipper of the body bag and slowly began to open it. Subconsciously, she shut her eyes tightly. She didn't want to do this. She couldn't. The thought of cutting open her friend's chest and examining her internal organs made her sick.
Molly finally opened her eyes and looked at Emily. She backed away, almost in fear. The paramedics hadn't closed her crystalline eyes. Molly turned her back to the body, running her hands through her hair as she fought back tears. She couldn't do this. But she had to. No one else was in the morgue, it was nearly midnight. How would she tell her boss that she hadn't done an autopsy? How would she tell Michael? Molly took the zipper in her fingers, prepared to open it more but zipped the bag shut.
Molly leaned against the counter and hung her head. She began to cry softly into her hands, hiding her face. She felt so idiotic and stupid. She was supposed to be able to do this by now. It was supposed to be easier.
She heard a door open and she turned her back to it, wiping her eyes immediately. "Molly, the body for the Morrison case. I need to see it." a velvet voice said impatiently. God. Why him? she thought to herself. She managed to turn back around "Um yeah. It's right here. I haven't done the autopsy yet." Barely opened the body bag she grumbled internally.
He sighed "You realize this is your job? You're supposed to do autopsy's. One simple job."
Molly scowled. "It's my last body of the night. They just brought Emma in."
Sherlock noticed immediately that she had called her by a nickname but shifted impatiently "Well how about you do the autopsy now? Are you capable of that Molly?" he hissed.
She bit back the tears and swallowed. No. I'm not capable. You oblivious insensitive idiot! She screamed in her head. "Yes. Uh I'll get right on it. Sorry"
Sherlock nodded "Good. I don't like waiting so hurry." he said bitterly. The only thing that kept her from throwing something at him was the fear of hurting him.
She had managed to open the body bag without looking. Minutes later she placed out all of her medical supplies and took the hose in her hand. Sherlock was watching her every move and it made her nervous, as he always did. She bit her lip as she turned on the water, making sure it wasn't too hot or too cold, nor the pressure too powerful as if Emma was still alive.
Sherlock sniffed."You realize it's a dead body. It can't feel." he chuckled.
Molly snapped her gazed to him. "She's a dead body. If you would be so kind to some respect..." Sherlock rolled his eyes. Sentiment. "If you can't keep distance Molly, you shouldn't be a pathologist."
Molly ignored him and continued to wash the dirt and blood off of the body. She gritted her teeth together to stop herself from gagging.
The lacerations were deep and countless scenes flashed in her head. Sherlock was still babbling
"You obsess over everything to compensate for the lack of care you get it return. You love too much." Molly put the hose down. "Leave. Go keep your distance behind the glass." she said angrily. Sherlock scoffed "You can't do that. I'm with the police!" Molly glared at him "Not since you jumped off a roof. This is my lab. I can do what I want. Now leave!" she choked on the last word, as her voice cracked. She turned her back to Sherlock staring at the body trying not to shake. He was an arse and didn't deserve to see her cry.
Sherlock hesitated but walked to the door. Molly turned so he wasn't able to her face, even when he spoke. "It was a compliment Molly. The way I worded it may have been, in your opinion, incorrect, but I meant that you were too special to be dealing with dead bodies every single day." She watched him through her hair as he opened the door to leave. She managed to find her strained, broken voice. "Sherlock, wait." He looked at her, almost as if he pitied her. She swallowed back the insecurity in her voice. "I need you."