The first time she saw it on top of the lab station where she usually works, she thought someone -most likely Stamford- must have misplaced it. After all, the senior doctor has too much in his mind lately, that he can't be faulted in being a scatterbrain once in a while.
She simply shrugged and threw the empty coffee cup into the trash bin.
The second time it happened again, she made a mental note to print a reminder "PLEASE THROW YOUR TRASH IN THE TRASH BIN".
That afternoon, the note was securely taped on top of her station.
However, the third time she walked into the lab to find another coffee cup sitting on her table, she almost walked out to look for Stamford and the technicians. Clearly some lecturing was in order.
Except, there was something different with the cup - a yellow post-it was sticking on its side.
"Coffee?"
The cup ended up in the floor, crumpled and robbed of its true purpose.
She didn't even bother to pick it up and throw it properly on the bin - an irony which never passed her mind.
After all, Dr. Molly Hooper was busy fuming.
The following day, the doors of the lab were locked and there was a big glaring sign taped on the window.
"Bugger off Sherlock Holmes"
She thought the message was clear enough. Sure, they are closer than ever, since apparently killing someone and helping them go incognito for three years is an ice breaker, in Sherlock Holmes' world. But despite everything, old habits die hard.
In the consulting detective's case, treating Molly Hooper as a coffee maker was one of them. What made it worse this time, was the audacity of the man to give her an order in a form of an empty cup and a post-it.
It seems like this time around, she does not even deserve a verbal order.
The coffee cup that was sitting in her station again, was a glaring manifestation of how slow Sherlock could accept changes, or at least, notice it.
He can be very very dense if it suits him.
But, that does not give him any leeway and Molly is determined to show him how much things have changed - including her.
Especially her.
With determined strides she stalked towards her station with every intention of crushing the empty coffee cup.
Which apparently, was not as empty as she thought it was.
What happens next seemed like a scene in one of the rom-coms that she loved to watch. Sadly, it was the kind of scene she dislikes the most in those kinds of movies.
It was the cringe-worthy "oh-my-god-I-wish-that-does-not-happen-to-me-in-re al-life", embarrassing scene which usually sets the ball rolling.
However in her case, she was pretty sure there was no ball that could be rolled.
Because right at the moment when it finally dawned on her that she had just received a hot, certainly not needed, but self-inflicted coffee bath, Sherlock Holmes -with his uncanny sense of timing- came barreling through her lab.
"Oh, I was rather hoping I'd be in time to stop that from happening."
In pain, and embarrassed, she did not even register the look of genuine regret that etched in the detective's face.
"You knew that this was going to happen and yet you..." Words failed her as they drowned in her barely suppressed anger.
"Well, I anticipated that it was going to happen, considering that all the cups ended in the bin, with the last one additionally crumpled. But I was hoping that you would be aware enough to notice that this, unlike the others, is not empty." He was rather proud of himself because he had managed to exercise some restraints which -as advised to him- was something that he needs to exercise every now and then.
Unfortunately for the detective, the flourish in his speech that had developed from years of repeatedly explaining himself from idiots -which is practically everyone- only made matters worse for him, despite it being committed unconsciously.
Because by then, Molly Hooper was not only in pain and embarrassed, she also felt like she had just been insulted.
"Out." The coldness in her voice was alarming but it seemed appropriate, considering the tinge coming from her scalded skin.
Sherlock Holmes had long proven that Molly Hooper is one of the people who can awaken in him, feelings and reactions that he never thought he'll possibly experience.
Gawking like an idiot is one of them.
"What?"
For her part, all Molly could see was brown. To be more precise, all she could see is the brown stains in her lab coat, the brown droplets falling down her skin and leaving a dark sticky trail, and finally, the brown hot liquid that she wishes she have so that - in a childish form of revenge - she could douse it in the smooth and perfectly pressed suit in front of her.
"You heard me, I said out. Now."
The dichotomy that is part of being a Sherlock Holmes had never been manifested more clearly when, to both their surprise, the consulting detective turned around and left without a fight.
"What did I tell you about the coffee approach?"
"Shut up John."
"It was first on the list Sherlock."
"One, I did not ask her out. Two, neither did I offer to make her a cup. It was there, ready made, and without any evidence of added ingredients."
"That was the whole point of leaving an empty cup of coffee for days? To show her that you don't intend to add anything on her cup?"
"Yes! What else would it be?"
"I thought it was just one of your ways of being mysterious and all."
"Do keep up John."
"Still, didn't work. Did it?"
"It would have, if the damned vending machine wasn't so slow in releasing Quavers."
"Now that I think of it. Coffee and quavers. Really Sherlock? Did you even read the list?"
"Useless."
"Oh yeah? Then why are you walking out of St. Bart's, dateless?"
A/n I was torn between writing a fic where Sherlock follows John's advice or this. In the end, I figured out that Sherlock is too stubborn for his own good, so this fic happened.
As usual, thanks for reading :)