[Basically, this came from an idea a friend and I were discussing a while ago. My writing isn't that great, there may be some mistakes, but I hope you like it all the same. I do not own Sherlock or any of the characters from the series. R & R! Ideas and constructive critisism is welcome! :)]
He was nice.
She liked him.
They had met in the canteen at Bart's. It was a rather awkward encounter; awkward for Molly mainly. She had just ordered a coffee and a bag of crisps on her lunch break, and was about the make her way back to the morgue. Why she opted to eat there she'd never know. Perhaps she felt more comfortable there than in the canteen; it was rather crowded at the best of times, and despite the fact that she'd been working at the hospital for a few years now, she didn't know that many there. It was probably because she had always been too shy, too timid, to speak to someone new. Not that she didn't want to, she'd love to, and she just wasn't quite sure how to go about the approach.
The bag of crisps was shoved in the pocket of her lab coat, causing the packet to make a sound as it crumpled in her hand. The other hand was wrapped quite firmly around the plastic cup which contained the liquid. Its warmth seemed to seep through the plastic, increasing the temperature of her palm by a few more degrees. Molly went to turn around, using the balls of her feet to steer her in the right direction. As she did so, she hadn't noticed the figure that just happened to be walking in the same direction she had turned. Coffee suddenly spilled everywhere, onto him more that her. This made him come to an automatic stop.
"Oh, God... Sorry." Molly tried to apologise several times, stuttering between her words occasionally. Her cheeks had become flushed with a light shade of red, indicating her embarrassment, which she clearly tried to hide by placing her hand in front of her mouth. Or was it to try and shut herself up? "Gosh, I am so sorry. I didn't see you there... I-"
Normally, he would have been mad. Normally, if this had happened elsewhere, he would have made an issue of it. However, here, he was playing it cool. Acting. "No, no, it's fine," he silenced her, with some reassurance, and was that an Irish accent she heard?
Shyly, and rather awkwardly, she glanced up towards the male, allowing her hazel orbs to examine him closely for a moment or two. He wasn't that much taller than her. He had dark hair that looked thick due to the product he'd put in, and rich brown eyes, only a slightly darker shade than her own, that seemed to glint in the light which shone from above. His clean shaven features were accompanied with a warm smile, white teeth showing only briefly, adding to the charm that he seemed to carry with him. As she glanced down, she soon noticed the mess she'd made; his white top now had a light brown stain streaked across it, all thanks to the coffee that she had stupidly tipped over him.
"I've made quite a mess... I'm sorry." Did she ever stop apologizing?
He shook his head that smile still there, although it had turned a little fainter. "Don't worry about it." He noticed how she had glanced down at her almost empty coffee cup, disappointment at not getting to drink it riddled on her face. "Let me get you another one."
"No, you don't have to... I'm fine... I should probably get going anyway," she protested. Or tried to anyway.
"I insist," he interrupted her, smiling once more. His tone was quite firm, yet fair.
Molly didn't protest again. Instead, she simply nodded, watched as he slid past her with ease, hands dug into the pockets of his black, worn out jeans. There was a bin to her left. The plastic cup she had been holding onto soon made its home there with the rest of the rubbish. Patiently, she waited. Her eyes darted around the place for a while, taking everything in. She wanted to get back to the morgue, busy herself with bodies to examine, post mortems to do, paperwork to fill in. At least, part of her did. The other part was screaming at her to stay here, accept this man's coffee, and hopefully make one new friend. That prospect excited her. There weren't that many people she spoke to while at work. It would be nice to have someone to chat to during breaks, joke about with, even if it was only for five minutes.
The only people who ever spoke to her in this place were Jack, who sometimes worked in the morgue with her, and Sherlock and John, when they showed up. Although, she never really got much conversation with the consulting detective. John, he was alright, he was polite, so very nice. Sherlock, on the other hand, was a completely different ball game. She attempted conversation, but her attempts were dampened with his harsh comments. And she got it, she understood, or at least she thought she did. He just wasn't much of a people person, she supposed. Either that or he was just saving her from making such a fool of her by saying the wrong thing. The only time he was ever nice to her, properly nice, was when he wanted something. He would complement her on her hair or what she was wearing behind a fake smile, and she would fall for it every single time. It was very clever, very easy manipulation.
So why did she consider Sherlock Holmes her friend? Maybe she liked to think they were, or maybe it was because she liked him in a way he'd never understand. Damn, Sherlock. She shouldn't like him the way she did. He'd never notice her in the way she noticed him. But she never gave up hope.
The man from earlier had now returned, a fresh new coffee in his hand. Molly instantly snapped out of her thoughts, which were flying through her head faster than she could talk. She eyed the coffee and smiled.
"There. No harm done," he said as he handed her the piping hot drink, another smile creased the corners of his mouth.
She accepted the drink and thanked him, her voice soft and quiet, hardly audible above the rest of the noise. Once again, her palm was heated up by the drink, giving her the warm sensation she liked. Gripping onto the cup firmly, she was determined this time not to spill it over anyone.
As she stood there, rocking back and forth on her heels a little, he observed her for a while. Took in her appearance like she had done him earlier on.
She had mousey brown hair, fairly long, which she'd slicked back into a pony tail and was flowing down her shoulder. Her eyes matched her hair. They stood out against her ever so slightly pale, yet natural complexion. It was clear she hadn't bothered with any make up, apart from the mascara that she'd applied. It accentuated her eyes, made them stand out that bit more. The necklace that hung around her neck instantly caught his eye; it was cheap, made from tacky gold, like one of those that you'd get out of an Argos catalogue. Clearly it was a present from a family member or a close friend; otherwise she wouldn't have worn it. That he could tell. He tried to figure out what job she possessed here by examining her lab coat. He wasn't getting much from it; it was fairly clean and well kept. But he could tell that she wasn't a doctor, or a nurse, so something else then. One in a scientific field?
He had noticed that she was shy, too. That wasn't really that hard to guess, though, was it? Not with the way she was acting around him, avoiding eye contact and looking down at the floor. Hiding her insecurities. So, she wasn't that great at communicating with strangers. Perhaps this factor comes from a lonely childhood?
When he finally finished scanning her, trying to make out who she was, he parted his lips to speak. "I'm sorry; I don't think I caught your name." There was distinct charm in his voice, along with that Irish lilt that she liked, a lot.
"Uh... Molly." She lifted her gaze back to his face slowly.
"Jim."
She nodded a few times, smiling awkwardly at him. "Jim!" she exclaimed with somewhat delight. Her voice had gone high pitched and a little too excited. She soon calmed. "Well... It's nice to meet you. I should probably get going..."
"Leaving so soon?" he questioned, stopping her from turning in the direction of the doors.
"Well... I-"
"Only, I thought you'd might like a chat?" His suggestion was followed by a light shrug of his shoulders and a cocked eyebrow. "Just for a few minutes?"
Stay, Molly, stay. Her brain was telling her to stay over and over again. What would be the harm in staying with him for a while? This was, after all, her chance at meeting someone new. Making a new friend. He looked the friendly kind. However, this thought was over shadowed, once again, by her insecurities, the fear of messing up, embarrassing herself. Because, let's face it, she was clumsy at the best of times, and often struggled to speak the words that wanted to fall from her mouth.
In the end, she decided. "Thanks, but I should go..." Chewing on her lip, this time, she did turn to leave.
"At least let me walk with you then?" It didn't look like he was giving up.
Molly refrained from letting a sigh escape her lips; that would be rude. So she nodded, a smile following that action. "Yeah... Sure. If you want. Though, don't you want to get a coffee first, or whatever it is you came for?"
Jim shook his head in reply. "I think I've had my fair share of coffee for today, don't you?" A chuckle left his lips, while his eyes indicated down at the coffee stain on his top. The tight white top that showed a rough outline of his chest.
She chuckled, also, yet the guilt of spilling her coffee all over him was still mustering in the back of her mind. However, he'd seemed to take to the accident rather well, so in the end she decided to forget about the whole thing.
They were silent as the made their way, together, through the large double doors. Leaving the hustle and bustle of the canteen at lunch hour, they entered the quietness of the corridor. It was all so clinical; white washed walls, potted plants, the strong smell of disinfectant circling the air. Molly was certain that she could taste it at the back of her throat when she breathed the scent in. If she ate now, she would surely be sick.
"So," Jim began, breaking the silence that surrounded them. He had been so quiet, she had been wrapped up in her own head, and she had almost forgotten that he was still walking with her. "What do you do here?" he asked.
Molly diverted her attention to him, thinking her answer through before she spoke. "Oh, I work in the morgue. You know, dead bodies, post mortems, that kind of thing..." She sounded proud of the fact that she worked there, doing the job she did. It was a big responsibility.
"Ah." He nodded in approval. "I didn't expect a nice girl like you to be someone who worked in a morgue."
His comment made her blush, her cheeks glowing a baby pink slightly. "I find it interesting. The human body, not death... I suppose death can be interesting... No, the causes... The causes can be quite interesting. Especially if I find a cause I'm not familiar with, I like to find out about it. I enjoy examining the bodies... God, no, I mean..."
Jim silenced her with a soft laugh, his hands dug deep into his jeans pockets once more. "I know what you mean," he commented, watching as she looked away, sipping at her coffee that had drastically cooled in the few minutes they'd been walking through the building.
Molly soon plucked up the courage to ask him the same thing, trying to keep the conversation flowing.
"I work in the IT department," he explained in one smooth go. "Started a few days ago. It's not exactly my ideal career choice, but it's decent enough, and a job is a job, I suppose."
"Yeah..." she mumbled, clutching at her coffee with both hands, fixing her eyes straight ahead. She was still incredibly shy, despite his friendliness and manners.
A few more minutes had passed.
"Do you visit the canteen often?"
She looked at him, confused. "Why?" she asked, a frown appearing on her forehead.
"Well, I need to be prepared, just in case you decide to spill coffee down me again." He chuckled as he spoke, a glint twinkling in his right eye.
"Oh, that." Molly smiled, and then bit down on her lip, trying to hide her blushes of embarrassment all over again. "Only at lunch breaks," she answered him.
"But don't worry; I'll try not to let it happen again." She used the word try because she couldn't guarantee that it wouldn't happen again. With her level of clumsiness, anything was possible.
Jim's own smile had effortlessly changed into a flawless grin, one that made her melt like ice cream under the burning hot sun. She was washed over with a warm feeling inside of her, travelling through her veins at a steady pace, and it wasn't from the coffee.
"I'd better be off," he sighed, stopping himself from walking any further.
Molly stopped, too. "Really?"
"Yeah, I'm this way." He pointed to his right. The IT department was somewhere in that direction, along with other rooms and possible smaller departments.
Molly looked quite disappointed but she tried to mask it with a smile, much wider than the one she had held before. "Okay."
He shoved his other hand back into his pocket, hunching his shoulders a little. For a split second, or maybe two, or three, he glanced around, in front of him, over his shoulder, before resting his dark orbs back upon the young female. "I'll see you around then... Molly."
The fact that he'd said her name made her flutter, mainly because he had actually remembered her name in the first place. She watched as he slid off down another corridor, giving her one last smile as he went, and she watched until he had completely vanished from her view. Smiling to herself. Realizing that she looked silly standing there on her own, staring at nothing for what must have been at least two minutes, she went her own way, heading off to the morgue to continue with her daily job.
The smile was still there as she strolled to the morgue. Satisfaction was painted on her features. She was glad. Glad that she'd finally plucked up the courage to engage in a conversation, no matter in small, with someone new. She was pleased with herself for trying hard not to mess up and to not make herself sound like an idiot. She was happy that he had bothered to even notice her, because no-one ever noticed Molly, quiet little Molly Hooper.
Of course, there were doubts. Ones that she had lingering in the back of her mind. The doubt that she might not see him again, the doubt that he might not be interested in her the next time, if they ever met up again.
Just let go of those doubts, she thought. You can be friends. It's a possibility. It would be nice. Stop worrying. You've met someone nice, someone decent. All thanks to spilled coffee.