Sherlock paced back and forth. His mind was racing a mile a minute. Molly sat in a chair, reading. She had learned a while back not to ask what was wrong, or even how his day went. Not unless she wanted to hear things that she really did not want to know about friends and colleagues. However, she was beginning to feel curious. A glance at the clock told her that he had been pacing for two hours straight.
"Molly, if you have something to say, just say it," he said as he turned to pace back towards her.
She blinked. "How did you know I had something to say?"
A small smile touched his lips. "Simple. You keep shifting, a clear sign that you're uncomfortable, you keep rereading the same line or so, meanign you're distracted, and you keep glancing up at me. I think it is safe to assume that you have something to say to me."
Molly rolled her eyes. "Of course. Anyway, I wanted to ask why you're pacing. You haven't stopped for a couple of hours."
"Isn't it obvious?" he asked. "I'm bored! There is nothing to do! I can't solve any cases, unless I want everyone to know I'm alive! Just sitting here all day is boring!"
"You don't sit here all day, you go out all the time," Molly reasoned.
It was Sherlock's turn for an eye roll. "Oh, yes, Molly," he began sarcastically, "because going out for lunch at a cafe is completely on par with solving crimes. Honestly." He shook his head, pacing away from her.
She sighed. "Whatever. It's been a month. Don't you think you could return to John now? I had breakfast with him the other day. He's still depressed. It would probably do him good if you returned."
Sherlock shook his head, though his pacing slowed slightly, the only clear sign that he too was upset over the absense of his friend from his life. "I can't, Molly," he said, voice low. "I know Moriarty. He may be dead, but I have no doubt that he told his assassins to keep an eye on them. There is too much risk. Only you and Mycroft can know."
Molly looked down. She couldn't imagine being in Sherlock's situation. How could he stand it? Being stuck without those closest to you, unable to do the things you love. She knew he cared for his friends, so much so that he was willing to sacrifice his entire life.
Of course, the past month hadn't been easy. Sherlock was not one for a normal life, and he saw it as a form of torture. Molly's patience had been tried time and time again as he adjusted. Her temper had become much shorter and her attitude grouchier since he had arrived, but she had still learned to live with him.
Thinking she should change the subject, she remembered something. "By the way, I'm opening the spare room up, so clear it out tonight. She'll be here tomorrow morning."
"But then where can I keep my experiments? You won't let me have them anywhere else!" he protested, finally coming to a halt, much to her relief. He was beginning to make her dizzy with the pacing.
She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Put them it your room or something. Just get it cleared out."
"Fine," he grumbled, stalking into the spare bedroom.
Donna pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. She gave her grandfather and her mother each a kiss on the cheek before walking out. She was on her way to see about a room in the city. She looked again at the information. She had seen the flyer on a window renting out a room and had spoken with the woman, Molly, over the phone.
Three bedroom flat. Two current residents. One woman, 31, works late hours. One man, 36, unemployed.
Please be aware that you must not have any problems with breathing, heart-failure, or any form of shock. (More information if you call)
This was followed by contact information for Molly Hooper. When they had spoken she had seemed nice enough, so Donna figured she would give it a shot.
Of course, why she wanted to move out, even she didn't know. She was happy with her mother and grandfather, but something just felt... off. They always seemed to be holding back, and she had to get away from that.
Arriving at the flat, she knocked on the door. It was almost immediately answered by a woman with long brown hair and kind brown eyes. A wide smile split across her face. "Hi! You must be Donna Noble!"
Donna nodded, taking her extended hand. "Yes, and you must be Molly Hooper."
Molly nodded, motioning Donna inside. Looking around, Donna immediately liked the place. It had a comforting feeling, very homey. The couches were her favorite shade of blue, the one that always made her happy, for a reason even she didn't know. The only thing that did not seem to fit in was the strange smell that hung in the air. Almost like... sulfur?
"Sorry about the smell," Molly said, shutting the door. "It's my friend, Sherlock. He does these little things, he calls them his 'experiments.' I'm surprised the nieghbors haven't really complained yet, if not about the smell then the noises. I think he just enjoys making things explode, sometimes."
Donna smiled. "So, when you said about the breathing problems and tolerance for constantly being surprised, that's what you meant."
Molly nodded again. "Yeah. I just think you should know a few things about Sherlock before you meet him. For one, he's all brains, but sometimes he can be the most ignorant man alive."
"What do you mean?" Donna asked, confused, though the description faintly rang a slight bell. DId she know someone like that?
Molly opened her mouth, but before she could speak, the front door opened. Donna looked over to see a man walking in. He had dark hair and bright blue eyes. His face was angled, with high cheekbones and sharp features.
"Hello, Molly," he said. He turned to Donna and his eyes scanned over her, but not in a way that felt like he was checking her out. More like she was a project he was observing.
"Hi," she said, ignoring the fact that Molly now looked distraught. Donna figured that she had been hoping to get Donna more prepared, but it was fine. Donna knew how to strike back when she was insulted.
"Sherlock Holmes," he said, extending his hand.
Donna smiled. "Donna Noble," she replied, taking it. "You must be Molly's flatmate. She was just telling me about you."
He nodded slightly. "I see. Well, it is very important to know as much as you can about someone before moving in with them, it's only smart. I suggest that you pay attention, don't want to miss anything important," he said, turning to step into another room.
Donna's face became a mask of confusion. "Well, wouldn't it make sense for you to hear about me too?"
Sherlock stopped and turned around, a smile on his face. Molly let out a small groan. "Let's see," he began. "I know you're a temp, a very good one, actually, must do a lot of typing. You're in your early to mid-forties. You're very strong-minded, definitely not afraid to make yourself heard. You're no stranger to fighting, actually, you are quite ready for anything at a moments notice. You also have been acquainted with strange things, quite often, actually. Your favorite color is blue and you have some memory loss. Yes, I think I'm fine." And with another smile he stepped out.
Donna's jaw was nearly touching the floor. Realizing this, she closed it, and looked at Molly, who looked defeated.
"What the hell was that?" Donna asked.
Molly sighed. "I tried to warn you. Smart, but ignorant. I don't think he knows he's doing it most of the time. Trust me, I've gotten worse from him."
"Like what?"
Molly averted her eyes to the floor. "Like, him seeing a Christmas present and going off about how it's for someone I like, due to the wrapping and the way I was dressed."
Donna shrugged. "That isn't too bad."
Molly closed her eyes and sighed before looking at Donna again. "It was for him."
"Oh," Donna said, eyebrows raised. Unsure how to respond to that, they sat in silence for a moment.
"Have we scared you away yet?" Molly asked shyly.
Donna smiled. "No. I actually like it. I think a little bit of wierd will be good for me. Something about my normal home life just isn't the same anymore," she told her.
Molly's face split into a wide grin. "So you'll take it."
Donna nodded. "Yeah. I'll take it."