Molly Hooper was having one of those days. Just one of the those days. You know the kind, where you wake up late, bloated and slip in mud on your way to work…not just slip though, completely wipe out to the point where you need a change of clothes. Then, you make it to work and realize that the extra set of clothes you'd left there are at least two sizes too small so you spend the whole day worrying about bending wrong because if you crouch down, you may tear a seam. So, as she neared the end of her day, she began fantasizing about what random alcohol she had in her cabinet and how long of a bath she'd take. But, then, of course, he'd walk in.
Molly may have cursed out loud, she didn't know or care. What she did know was she was going home and he couldn't stay without a babysitter. Seeing as he was alone, that meant she'd have to kick him out. With the day she'd had she was definitely ready for that. Her trainers came to a bit of a tip she wouldn't mind shoving up his….
"Molly!" He called to her, gleefully, from her doorway, but she didn't move her attention away from her paperwork.
"What do you want, Sherlock?" There was a pause for a few moments, she could hear her pen sliding across the paper.
"I need some —"
"No."
"Pardon?"
"No body parts to spare today."
"What about —"
"You're not stealing any of the chemicals, either." Obviously there was something else he was thinking of asking about or for, but was debating on what tactic to employ.
"You look…well." Molly didn't even take the time to fully acknowledge how hilarious it was to her he was scrapping the bottom of the barrel with his attempts at manipulating her lately.
"Well?! I look well to you?" Her head had snapped up, brown eyes wide.
"So… you're …. not well,then?"
"No! I'm not well! I'm not well at all, you git!" The moment she met his eyes, she knew she should stop. Briefly explain that she had had an exceptionally bad day and whatever he wanted, he'd be better off waiting, but the overwhelming need to unload all the frustration of the day in a safe place bubbled up in her chest and with a deep exhale, it unleashed itself, barely within her control. "I woke up late this morning, I am pretty sure Toby has fleas, I have bites around my ankles and I have no idea where he picked them up or how I'm going to wash him. I haven't had sex since Tom and I broke up, six months ago and I had to cancel my date tonight because well, what would today be with my monthly visitor. Four days early. ITS FOUR DAYS EARLY! Why would it do that, Sherlock? It doesn't make sense. Its normally so predictable! But, its like a mudslide and a monsoon down there right now. I feel so unbelievably gross. When I woke up this morning so bloated, only a pair of track bottoms fit, I should have called in, but I thought it would be fine. Then I slipped in fell into this huge mud puddle and I had to change. Look at this!" She pulled her pants away from her body to reveal the red marks they were leaving on her. "And I can't eat anything because I'm afraid I'll pop the button off of these or break a seam. I haven't made any normal movements since I changed into these this morning because they were the only pair of trousers I had here. I'm so hungry and thirsty! I tried drinking water and felt like it just sat in my stomach because they're just so tight. I've been yelled at today, forced to make conversations with idiots. The closest I've come to 'well' today has been seeing this stack of paperwork diminish." Molly paused for breath. "I've got the worst cramps I've ever had in my life, I'm a bit dehydrated, hungry, barely mobile from the waist down, I've got a headache, no feeling in my toes and the elevator scene from 'The Shining' is happening in my pants right now. So, no, I'm not well. In fact, I'm strongly fighting the urge to set this place on fire and lock you in it."
He made a few attempts at speaking, perhaps trying to choose the best words. He seemed a bit caught off guard. If she had been in better spirits, his little facial twitches and scrunches would have been amusing to her.
"Well, it's a good thing you don't."
"I suppose, I mean, you'd die of smoke inhalation before the flames got to you, anyway."
"No…— well, yes, most people do, but I was thinking more along the lines of the fact that ... that would be arson, Molly"
"Oh, right." Her face went kind of dreamy, as if the thought just occurred to her. "How long is a sentence for that?"
"Well, even if you didn't kill me or anyone else in the building, the intent was there, so… life? Or close to it."
"Damn." She breathed, flopping down on the chair with a great puff.
"I'll leave you to it then." Sherlock began to back out of the office.
"Wait.. umm…" she stood up again and gestured to the bare skin of her thigh peeking through a ripped seam; she'd sat down too hard. "Do you have something I could borrow?" Without a word, he took off his coat and handed it to her. "Thank you."
"Not a problem." As he left, she peeled the remains of trousers off and wore the Belstaff as a dress. Paper work could wait, she needed a sandwich… maybe some chocolate…. definitely water.