Molly had just retrieved her morning batch of coffee from the more sociable areas of the parts of St. Barts hospital (where the patients were more chatty (morgue joke)) when she walked in on a very unfortunate spectral.
"Look! It's the lover of the dead!" Isaac Foreman pointed at molly with his fat finger while mocking terror. "Forever pining over that freak of a detective that will never return her feelings. Why? Because he doesn't even have any!" He burst out laughing along with several other people that had gathered around him to hear him reprimand Molly's unconditional love for the World's Only Consulting Detective.
Among the crowd, Molly recognized several of doctors she recognized as colleagues and several officers from Scotland Yard (such as Anderson and Donovan) who viewed Sherlock as a freak.
Molly stood there for many minutes, debating what to do, throw her coffee at him, talk back, or just walk away. However, her body made a decision that was none of the above after Isaac made his final crushing blow:
"How's he in bed? I mean, that how he gets access, isn't it? And I'm not just talking about the morgue."
He dropped the coffee and ran back to her sanctuary, the morgue. It would seem weird that she turned to the dead for comfort, but at least they didn't jeer at her for being hopelessly in love with Sherlock Holmes.
Molly slowly slid down the wall in the corner farthest from the door, tears coming so heavy that they threatened to drown her, not that she was trying to stop them, half hoping they would and save her from this humiliation.
As if on cue for the worst moment, a booming baritone voice reverberated through the morgue announcing his arrival,"Molly, I need to look at the freshest corpse you have", closely followed by his flatmate and partner against crime, John Watson.
They both spotted Molly at the same time. And then the final words, knocked down her last wall of dignity down:
"Molly," Sherlock's voice came like syrup, thick and slow, "I understand you wish to grasp my attention, but I hardly think that crying as I come in is the way to approach the desire."
Molly quickly stood up, tears still streaming down her face. But her face was contorted in the most heart-wrenching mix of heartbreak, hurt, sadness, but rage was easily the most prominent in her display of feelings splayed across her face, not even trying to hide her feelings. The lack of effort seemed to be slightly intimidating, even to Sherlock.
"Get out! You make me the laughingstock of the hospital! People mock me and make fun of me because of how much I-" she broke again, stumbled on her words and slid down the wall again. She was tired of the bullshit."Just-just get out." Sherlock and John, both looking like she had smacked, quickly ran out.
Once out, John realized and deduced what had happened. Then, he remembered what Sherlock had said to Molly just before she had exploded. He turned on him.
"What is wrong with you?! You-you-you-DAMMIT" John was so infuriated with what Sherlock had said he was at a lost. Before he could help it, he punched Sherlock square in the nose. What was more?
It felt wonderful.
