Six months. Six long, peaceful, wonderful months. That's how long it had been since their return to England after the Avenger's initiative. Earth had been saved, and they were home again. Molly smiled to herself as she stepped out of the morgue and locked the door behind herself. Life had gone back to normal fairly quickly; so quickly that it was almost surprising to her. She had expected to feel a little shell shocked or something like that when she returned to normal life.

It had been nothing like that.

In a way, she was glad. It was nice to be able to slide back into things easily and pick up where you left off. But at the same time, Molly was a little disappointed. She had hoped to feel different somehow. After all, she had been a part of the team that just saved the world. Her role in things had been relatively small; the only reason that she and John had been there at all was because Sherlock had insisted that he couldn't work properly without them.

Still. She had stood up to a nearly immortal, very bad tempered Asguardian prince who had insulted her in almost every way possible and come away from the encounter almost completely unscathed.

That had to count for something.

But the fact still remained that Molly Hooper didn't feel any different, and that sort of bothered her.

She squinted as she stepped out onto the street. The sun had finally come out from behind the clouds, and it was about as bright as a late afternoon sun could be.

Speaking of cranky Asguardian princes; she often wondered what had happened to Loki. His brother had taken him home to Asguard to be tried and punished for his crimes, and no one had heard how things had turned out. Molly felt rather sorry for him. Of course, what he had done was unacceptable under any circumstances, but she was certain that he was acting out of a need for attention. Molly didn't pretend to know his whole story; she knew very little of that, but she had a learned a thing or two about deduction in all her time spent working with Sherlock.

Just then, someone on the far side of the street caught her eye. All she really of saw of him was a familiar pair of eyes, and a flash of dark hair. Their eyes met for a second; she blinked, and then he was gone, disappearing into the crowd.

Molly shook her head and continued on her way home. As she was reaching the door to her apartment, her phone buzzed loudly in her pocket. Slipping her keys back into her purse, she pulled the phone out and read the message.

At the flat. Come immediately. – SH

She sighed. "I have a life, you know," she thought. However, she was used to it. Sherlock knew that she couldn't ever bring herself to say no to him, and he often used that to his advantage. "This had better be important," Molly muttered under her breath.

Her phone buzzed again.

No time to waste. Come right now. – SH

She stepped down to the curb and hailed a cab.

…

Except for a sleek black car parked at the curb that Molly didn't recognize, it didn't look as though much was going on at 221B Baker Street. After paying the cabby, she rang the bell and stepped back to wait.

Mrs. Hudson came to the door almost immediately, as if she had been waiting for her; which was probably true. Sherlock could keep everyone on edge when he was in a mood. "Knock first," Mrs. Hudson cautioned. "You're less likely to be scolded."

Molly nodded and headed up the stairs. She stopped at the door and as she raised her hand to knock, she heard the variously frazzled and annoyed voices of the people within. John answered the door, looking more tired than usual.

"What's going on?" Molly asked, lowering her voice.

John ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. "Mycroft is here." He paused and then added, "Along with Director Fury."

Molly raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Why?"

John just shook his head. "It's quite a messy business."

Just then, Sherlock noticed Molly's presence at the door. "Molly, did you bring the autopsy results?"

She stared at him. "What?"

"The results! I need them right away."

Molly frowned. "You could have told me that before I came all the way over here." She tried to sound as annoyed as she felt, but it seemed as though whenever she wanted to sound commanding or anything of the sort, it always came out in a squeak or soft whisper.

"Sherlock, if you would just listen for two minutes," Mycroft began, looking very irked indeed.

"For goodness sake, Mycroft, I'm in the middle of a case just now!" Sherlock exclaimed, cutting his brother off. "Molly, I need that file immediately," and then addressing his brother again, "You and Director Fury will need to sort this problem out on your own for the time being, I have bigger fish to fry."

The arguing picked up again, and John looked as though he wanted to bury his head in some sand. Molly sighed.

"I'll be back with the file shortly," she said.

John nodded. "Let me know when you're coming and I'll let you in."

She was off again, down the stairs and out of the building. It was a relief to be out in the fresh air again, away from the chaos inside. Whatever was going on, it wasn't good by the looks of it. She sighed.

Coming back out of the hospital, Molly noticed clouds gathering on the horizon as the sun set. Perhaps it was going to rain. She rounded the corner of the building and ran straight into someone, causing her to drop the paper work and her purse. She exclaimed in surprise and then went straight into several repeated apologies as she bent to pick up her things.

As she straightened again, she noticed that the person whom she had just collided with was still standing there, and he was studying her rather intently.

She opened her mouth to apologize again, but had to quickly shut it again as she recognized his face. He was dressed like anyone else on the London street, but there was no mistaking those eyes and the perfectly styled black hair. She took a step back, unsure of whether to scream and run as fast as she could, or to just nod and move on quietly.

"Hello, little mouse," he said quietly. His greeting didn't sound scornful in tone, but she couldn't be sure if it was meant to be an insult or not.

"Hello," she said, looking at him warily.

He stood for a few moments longer, looking at her. Molly hoped that she didn't look as frightened and startled as she felt. People passed by around them, going about their business as if nothing odd was going on at all, and she wished that she could join them.

Finally, without saying another word, Loki moved past her, and disappeared into a group of people a little further down the street, leaving her with only a quiet glance that she didn't quite understand.

Molly watched him go; too stunned to move from where she was standing. Needless to say, Sherlock did not receive the files that he wanted for another hour at least.