Guilt and Love – (The Life of a Lonely Forensics Officer)
A/N: Hi, this is my first time so it might be a bit unpolished. I didn't think there was much about Anderson in focus so let me know what you think! It might seem a bit weird but I have a kind of plan in my head for the Anderson/Molly ship.
Chapter 1: The Six Stages of Grief
After the events on St Bart's rooftop Philip Anderson's life was never the same.
First of all, the guilt. He felt he was the one who had tightened the noose on Sherlock's neck, made it all just a little harder. At first he wouldn't talk, wrapped up in the grief and shame of the detective's death. After six months of solitude he reached a stage of denial. He started a sort of fan club called 'The Empty Hearse' claiming Sherlock's faked suicide. They shared theories about how it could have been done and searched all through the news.
Anderson hated himself for what he and Donovan did but what he hated most was the tiny, niggling guilty pleasure. For Philip Anderson loved Molly Hooper. He always had but she loved Sherlock and Sherlock hated Philip. But surely even while blinded by love she would have realized what an awful man the detective was. While Anderson had never said a bad word about her Sherlock seemed to go out of his way to humiliate and scorn her. It's not even like Philip never saw her. She helped him with murder cases all the time. It wasn't fair, why did that man always have to one up him? So although he hated himself for it, deep down he was ever so slightly pleased Molly would be lonely enough for him to make a move.
Anderson strolled down to St Bart's. He walked to the mortuary and found Molly packing up.
"Oh, were you just going?" he asked bravely into the silent room.
"Why, what do you need?" Molly queried. Philip walked further into the brightly lit room and would Molly with a red, tearstained face.
"What's wrong? Have you been crying?"
"It doesn't matter about silly old me. What are you here for?" she smiled a bright but fake smile, wiped her face and bit her lip anxiously.
"It doesn't matter now, how are you?" avoiding the question because he hadn't any reason other than to see her. His face turned red before asking, "Would you- would you like to grab a coffee?"
This question reminded her of asking Sherlock the very same question. She bit her lip a little harder, "I'm really sorry, but it's a little soon after, you know…"
"Oh! I'm sorry to insinuate such a thing but I meant as in a good friend. Just- to talk- and stuff," he stuttered, taking it slow.
"Well… Sure, I think that would be quite nice actually."
Anderson smiled. It would take a while, but he was finally getting somewhere.
A/N: Sorry for any typos and stuff. Next chapters will hopefully be longer.