As the razor dropped from her hand, she could feel the blood trickling down her arm. Tears started to stream down Molly Hooper's face, she promised herself she would break this habit. It takes twenty-one days to break a habit, and she was on day fourteen. Now, she had to start from scratch.
Molly got a washcloth and began to wash her face, then quickly scrubbed the blood away, realizing she was late for work. Sherlock was most likely there since he was working on a case at the moment and had been there every time she entered and every time she left. She threw her hair in a pony-tail and changed into her blouse and work pants. Molly dashed around the room, trying to find her shoes she discarded when she walked in yesterday. Looking at Toby, she noticed he was on top of them. That managed to crack a smile out of her.
"Oh, Toby! Those shoes are mine, not yours!" She said in a tisking voice, moving closer to him.
He meowed in reply and went right back to sleep on her shoes.
Molly rolled her eyes and picked him up. He started to purr as she petted his head, but jumped out of her arms once he started to get bored.
"I love you, Toby! And I will be back later, don't miss me!" Molly commented, and he continued to ignore her.
She shut the door, locked it, then placed her key in her purse as she started to walk out. As she was walking to work, she didn't want to ride today, she couldn't help but think. She thought how she did have a good life. Molly had loving parents, a few loving friends, and a loving pet. So, why did she hurt herself? Well, she always put herself down. She thought people secretly hated her, or she wasn't pretty enough. That she just wasn't good enough to live. Sherlock didn't help with his random, hurtful remarks throughout his visitations in the lab.
Soon enough, she reached St. Bart's and entered, plastering a smile on her face, just like she did every morning. Molly greeted every co-worker as they passed, and to anyone she would look immensely happy. It was an act she had perfected to a tee. Everyone believed Molly Hooper didn't have an unhappy bone in her body, and that was exactly what she wanted them to believe.
Arriving into the lab, she put on her lab coat, making sure her wrists were covered. She also had marks on her upper thighs and waist from last night, but he obviously couldn't have ever seen those. She looked around for him and noticed he was trying to find something in her shelves. He was obnoxiously throwing everything out and she just didn't have the breath to argue. She started picking up everything he threw out already, and he still hadn't noticed her presence.
"Where is that eyeball I stored a month ago-" Sherlock muttered to himself, searching frustratedly, "it had been here yesterday!" He then shouted, as he removed the last bit of what was left in the shelf.
"You left it on the counter, Sherlock. I stored it in my desk because I didn't know where you would want me to put it." She stated, clearly bored, already making her way to her desk and opening the drawer.
"Molly, when did you get here-" Sherlock started but was interrupted when a jar with the eyeball was pushed into his arms.
"Not soon enough it seems." Molly said stacking up everything back to where it belonged. Sherlock noticed as she was reaching up a red mark on her arm that seemed to have a bit of dried blood.
"Molly, what happened to your arm?" Sherlock asked, inching closer for a better look.