Chapter 1
Molly Hooper never thought she'd meet someone like him. She believed Sherlock Holmes was the most divine being alive. She believed he was the man she truly loved.
She was wrong.

Working in a morgue at St. Bartholomew's Hospital in the middle of London wasn't quite as exciting as Molly had thought it would be when she studied Pathology at University. Also having the job as someone who does autopsies and cuts up bodies doesn't really attract many male friends, or any friends at all. But it was the job she'd worked hard for and always desired since she watched CSI on television as a child.
Molly only had five friends. Well, four human friends. The fifth was her cuddly little kitten, Toby. She cared for that cat much more than herself, anybody would think it wasn't good for her. But the day she took Toby home to her little flat for the first time she vowed that if anyone ever hurt him she'd perform an autopsy on them... While they were still alive. Yes, she knew she'd take great pleasure in that.
The four people was a lovely old lady called Mrs. Hudson (No one knew her first name, but they assumed she intended to keep it that way), Detective Inspector Lestrade (Or Greg as his friends knew him), Dr. Watson (Molly knew his first name, but could never quite remember it), and finally is the one and only Consulting Detective, Mr. Sherlock Holmes. Molly's dream, the man that she fantasized about at night and wrote her name in notebooks as Mrs. Molly Holmes.
Well, she considered him her friends, but whether he saw her as his friend she did not know.
Sometimes she wondered if they really were her friends. The only time she saw them was when they needed something from her. Mrs. Hudson when she needed advice about her hip, Greg when he needed a case or autopsy report, Dr. Watson just went wherever Sherlock went, and Sherlock only came once a week at most, never to see her. Sometimes he'd say it was to see her, but at the time she was so loved up she didn't realise he really was just using her until he left. He only came to see a corpse, make a mess of it and leave it for Molly to clear up.
But Molly could never say no to those perfectly dark, shaped curls on his head, or the brooding green and blue eyes he had that could see through anything. Not even his sharp as ice cheekbones or his angel sculpted lips. Molly's favourite of all his magnificent features. She wouldn't be able to tell you how many times she's wanted to press her own lips hard against his.

Today wasn't a particularly special day, there were a few students in for work experience, and although Molly was trying her best to be polite and keep in interesting, the spotty, greasy teenagers weren't making it easy for her and kept insisting on her showing them a the bodies and the saw she used to cut through bones and rib cages. Molly was thirty-three for God's sakes; she wasn't going to let these /kids/ push her around.
"Let us see the dead bodies!" one said incredibly rudely, she thought.
"I, I can't. I'm sorry, but I'm not allowed too", Molly protested back. That was the truth, sort of. Her boss told her if just one of them doesn't want to see one, then none of them can. But all these students seemed pretty willing. The reason she didn't want to was because she didn't like showing off the bodies of the deceased to just anyone. These people had lives and families and she was pretty sure none of them would want their loved one out on show to a load of horrible kids!
One of the kids made another unneeded comment and Molly was about to lose her temper.
"Molly!" The deep angelic voice said as it came through the door, the smaller Army doctor following behind him.
"Oh, err... Sherlock! What can I, uh, help you with?" Molly barely managed to say, her forehead creasing as she spoke. Sherlock stopped between her and the students, and John stood up straight by him, both of them looking at teenagers up and down.
"I've come to see the Demoy's body."
"Uh, sure. Um, can you wait a minute? Please? I just need to finish up with these, err..."
"Students?", the Doctor kindly finished off for her.
"Yes, students", Molly said with a small nod and a smile to try and hide the fact she was now blushing at the sight of the man she adored so much.
"Wait, your Sherlock 'olmes, aren't ya?" one of the teenagers spoke up.
"Yes, and this is my friend..."
"Colleague!"
"My colleague, Dr. John Watson", Sherlock said bluntly, putting his hands behind his back.
"And you are?" John said perfect and proper, he really learnt a lot from being in the Army.
"I'm..." The student began, but was cut off.
"Ah, let me", Sherlock said as he took a step forward with a grin to examine the student closer.
"Sherlock", John cautioned, him and Molly both knowing this was about to go pear-shaped.
"Oh no, go ahead Mr. 'olmes. Gimme your best shot", the boy smugly said.
The detective (Well, sort of) stared down at the boy. His face had a stupid smirk on it, he'd heard about Sherlock's theory on deduction and how he could tell you your life story by one quick glance.
Sherlock then took a step back and smiled, still staring at the boy.
"Last night you, Callum Weller, was awake until at least two in the morning according to the dark circles under your eyes and the fact you can stand up properly without leaning on something due to the lack of energy in the legs, even though you knew you'd have to get up early for Miss. Hooper's presentation. This morning your Mother commented on the strange aroma you had about you, and you grimly told her it was a new shower gel. How she believed that I will never understand, but really its the cocaine you and your so called /buddies/ smoked last night. Maybe you should be more careful next time because a drug such as cocaine can last in your system for a long time depending on how much you smoked. From what I can deduce you smoked it several hours ago, clearly quite a heavy amount for a man, or rather child, as young as you are. And I wouldn't exactly say that nervous twitching of yours is unnoticeable.
What shall I comment on now? Ooh, I know, maybe that you haven't had a shower in, hmm... Possibly four or five days now? Please do soon, I'm pretty certain the girl you /shagged/ a few nights ago would appreciate it!"
The cold, darkened room was quiet. An awkward quiet. Molly and John exchanged worried and mortified glances while the drug addict boy and the few other students stared up at Sherlock wide-eyed and open mouthed.
"H... How'd you know...? All of that?"He managed to mutter.
"Oh please, Mr. Weller", Sherlock began again, "You have a faint lipstick print on your cheek from where your Mother kissed you this good bye. You may detest her doing so, but for some reason she does it because she cares about you and doesn't want to lose you. Why anybody would want to keep you is what confuses me!"
"I mean... How'd you know my name?"
"On the back of your scruffy collar, which boy you really need to sort out, 'C. Weller' is scribbled on. Now before I have to listen to your annoying and poorly pronounced vocabulary, I'll explain to you that on our way in to this building you have to sign in on the visitor's board. Visiting hours begin an hour ago, so your name must be between nine and ten AM, there are only two names beginning with a C between those times, a Miss. Caitlin Rhodes and Mr. Callum Weller... Is that everything? Or did your boring, ordinary little brain not get all of that?"
John sighed and brought his hand up to his face, covering his eyes. Molly stared down at the ground, not sure what to say or do. The other students still looked as if they had seen a ghost, and Callum looked like he was about to throw a punch. Sherlock just stood tall and proud with his hands in his long coat pockets, a sly grin across his lips.
Molly decided it was time she did something before someone did something bad.
"I, err... I think you should all be, um, leaving now", she said, barely loud enough for anyone to hear.
"Good idea", John mumbled through his hand.
Molly then quickly guided all the students out of her morgue and gave them directions back up to reception. She could hear John and Sherlock inside bickering. 'Just great' she thought as she pushed the heavy wooden door open.
"Sorry about that", Molly said, her face so innocent and apologetic.
"It's fine... It wasn't your fault", John replied, speaking the truth. Molly then walked over to the metal slab where the body of Daniel Demoy's was lying in a body bag. She unzipped it, revealing his pale torso and the Y-shape scar down his chest Molly had created during his autopsy a few days before hand.
"Here's his body, take as long as you need. I'll be over here if you need anything", she said with a huff as she walked over to her desk and sat down, leaning her hand in her hands and staring down at the pile of papers on her desk.
"Ah, thanks. Oh and Molly, give your clothes a wash, your got hairs from that ghastly cat of yours all over you."
"This is going to be a long day", Molly mumbled to herself.