A/N:This is my first fanfic, so any reviews, kind criticisms, corrections to errors and kudos are welcome.
All characters belong to Gatiss/Moffatt/BBC or Sir ACD. I make no profit except the joy of writing and sharing.
Most people didn't notice her. She was little, tiny even. her brother always called her "Molly Mouse" a play on that popular American character Minnie Mouse. Growing up she always had her nose in a book, it helped her succeed in school and Uni grades wise, but didn't do much for her popularity with the boys.
In her last year before receiving her Masters, she was taking an advanced chemistry class and happened to have been paired with a very attractive and dare she say, clever lad who seemed to hang on her every word. They met together outside of the lab a couple times for lunch and she thought he might have more interest in her than most other boys she'd been paired with for such classes.
The final lab was quickly approaching its due date and Molly found herself alone in the lab with her partner as they worked their way through a complicated and delicate series of tests. They had been chattering on easily through most of the steps and were just about finished when he took a moment, sitting back in his chair quietly before she even realized he had stopped talking.
Suddenly, Molly became very aware of how quiet the lab actually was (just a ticking clock and the steady whoosh of the bunsen burner accompanied by the bubbling of the solution over top of it), of his breathing (steady and even, appropriate for his fitness level), and herself (small, mousy brown hair pulled back in a ponytail looped on itself to keep it safe in the lab, her safety glasses probably forming those tell-tail red lines on her face).
She stopped mid sentence and looked at him, sitting back, relaxed with his arms crossing his chest, and watching her. Seeing her. She suddenly felt not invisible as she usually did. The feeling was, well she didn't know this feeling, had never felt it under the eyes of anyone before. if she was asked to describe it, a tumble of butterflies in a net might have been close.
Staring at him looking at her, she started to repeat her last question when he leaned toward her. She stopped mid query when he grabbed her hand, and started to pull her towards him. She stepped toward him, starting to move her free hand towards his waist and her face closer to him, ready to kiss him when suddenly she felt a barrage of water on her head and the arm he held captive.
Suddenly spluttering and cold, "Oh what in the bloody?" she started. "So sorry Molly, I had to get you away from the table and under the emergency wash, you'd stuck your sleeve in something and it was starting to melt away the fabric."
Looking away from him for the first time since he grabbed her hand, she looked down at her now soaking sleeve and noticed that he was indeed correct. Feeling her face go red in a blush, and being thoroughly soaked, she turned and ran out of the lab crying.
"Oh, how could I have been so stupid?" she yelled at herself mentally. She really must be mental, thinking he had any interest in her. She was just a morgue technician. Why would anyone at New Scotland Yard have any interest in her besides as the person that takes the bodies away after they asked the medical examiner any questions they had.
Sitting in her bathtub, the water cooling around her, bubbles long gone, she had hoped it would help get the smell of the morgue off of her and wash away the shame she felt. God, she really was stupid. No man would ever really want her.
Anderson was part of the crime scene team. He had brought in a dozen envelopes from the scene just hours after the body had shown up. A women, who must have been beautiful in life, but was now grey and puffy in her bag in the chilled cubicle against the wall. It made Molly sad to see her like that, but she was looking forward to the tests that would be run to help Lestrade and the others find who had done this to her.
She was leaning over her microscope when Anderson came in, hello-ing his arrival. She looked up, and winced at the pain in her neck from moving so quickly. Anderson made a face and scurried (she didn't know men could scurry) over to her with a concerned look.
She smiled at him and leaning in and reaching to place her hand on his when he suddenly seemed to remember why he was there. Lifting the hand she was reaching for with its many plastic evidence envelopes. "DI said to bring 'em straight over for you, something about answering a riddle or some such twaddle. He always acts strange after letting that freak onto my scenes. Hopefully he didn't screw anything up more than usual."
Feeling the blush creep up her face, she grabbed the bags from him, thanked him for his expediency and rushed away to the storage room.
She'd do it this time, she thought to herself. She'd ask him for coffee. He was always so nice to her, in his weird kind of way. Though the other lab techs thought he was a vicious cruel jerk, she knew he was just clever, and smart, and handsome, and just… Perfect.
Watching him with that riding crop, thrashing away, trying to solve some puzzle or another, she considered all the things that could be. He set down the crop and walked out of the room, depositing the now ruined gloves in the waste bin as he walked past it.
"Um, Sherlock?" she managed to squeak. He turned to look directly at her with those eyes of his. Those eyes that looked like space. He raised his eyebrows in silent query. "Uh, would you," she stumbled, "would you like to go get coffee?" Molly swallowed hard against the knot forming in her throat.
He looked at her for a long minute. A blush began spreading up her neck and into her cheeks. She felt her face quickly feeling like it was on fire as he stood there looking at her, through her, thoughts obviously ghosting over his face as he made his decision.
A new heat blossomed in her chest, small and hot and hopeful. "Maybe he'll say yes, I didn't ask if he wanted coffee this time," words starting to roll in her mind, "I managed not to do that again, and at least I got the words out. Better still than the last time he looked me straight in the eye and all I could do was flush and stutter at him and he so kindly reminded me that I was doing something for him. Oh my god, I should be listening to him now, not babbling to myself. He's talking, oh Molly, you fool."
"Molly, are you listening?" Sherlock took a step towards her, his eyebrows drawn together. He reached out and hesitating a moment before moving, placed his hand on her shoulder to bring her attention back to him. Coming out of herself, Molly promptly took one look at him, and one look at his hand then began to sway, her legs no longer voluntarily holding her upright as they gave out underneath her as she realized that HE was touching her.
A small incoherent sound involuntarily escaped her lips as she felt herself begin to fall. Another similar sound was made again as HE moved so quickly and wrapped his arms around her to catch her and then guide her to a nearby chair. She landed smoothly, leaning back against his hands behind her.
Looking at her with what to her seemed great concern, his arms around her and not moving, He was completely focused on her for a moment. She closed her eyes and leaned towards him at the same time. As soon as her body pressure against his hinds trapped behind her lessened, he stood up. She sat back, un-pursing her lips and gaped at him for a moment.
Seeing her returned to herself, he commented that perhaps instead of coffee, she should have some real food. With a quick nod, of agreement with himself, he turned and walked out of the morgue, his coat billowing and flapping out behind him. The door closed with a quiet click and all she could do was cover her face and cry.
Jim is perfect. He is pretty. He likes me. OK, so he smells like a cologne counter, and maybe he is nerdy in a weird kind of way, but he works in IT, so he cant be that bad can he? He looks at me when I talk, and he feels so good when he hugs me.
Maybe I made a mistake telling him Sherlock was coming into the lab today. Oh Sherlock, you can be so wicked and mean sometimes. Gay. Tsk, thats awful. He's not gay, he's dating me. ME! At least John was nice about meeting him. John is always nice about everything, even Sherlock.
It was nice to see him so excited about my work though, even if it usually just comes down to fetching coffee for Sherlock some days. I couldn't help but smile as Jim sauntered into the room, smile on his face and he drew me into his arms.
He talked cheerily with Sherlock and John for a moment as he stood behind me with his arms around my waist. But it didn't last long before he drew away to shake hands with "The famous Sherlock and his blogger" as he put it.
Sherlock as usual, wasn't very pleasant, but it couldn't make me feel awful like he usually does. Another quick hug and Jim was out the door and back to his department. It did fluster me then when Sherlock made his deductions and made me feel small like he usually does. I had to leave before I was completely crushed. Once out in the hall, I was glad to hear John giving Sherlock the business in my defense, sweet John Watson. I went into my office until they left.
It wasn't til the end of shift that I saw Jim again, he came in with another hug and pressed me against the wall in the office, talking in his quick and quiet manner to me, sweet nothings. Arms pressed to either side of me, and nowhere to make my escape, he cooed at me, his face close to mine, and I suddenly, finally I heard what he was saying. He was talking about Sherlock. I know I turned red in the face, anger in my belly, and a little jealousy too.
Jim stopped talking for a minute, looked at me, made a sound and then as quickly as he pressed me against the wall leaned back and walked out without another word. I cant say after that I wasn't happy to see him go, but dreading seeing him in the canteen. I just wanted to punch him.
Molly always loved weddings. Though she'd given up on having one of her own for the longest time, until Tom asked her. Oh that was a happy day, just like John and Mary's wedding was turning into. Tom held her hand through the ceremony, and even through most of the reception while Sherlock did his thing as Best Man.
Despite his awkwardness, Sherlock did a /mostly/ wonderful job giving his best man speech. And solving out the mystery the way he always could was brilliant to watch. She couldn't help herself to look at Tom and back to Sherlock, and until it was pointed out by the man himself, she hadn't even realized that her fiancé bore any resemblance to Sherlock. Still she kept her smile and held his hand. She was not going to let Sherlock ruin her happiness again, not today.
Looking back, Molly was glad that it had been Tom himself to cause her reaction and not Sherlock. While Sherlock had been on his rambling trying to solve the mystery, Tom muttered under his breath about the brilliant man being a 'nutter.' I had meant to only bring my hand down onto his to shush him, and didn't realize I had the fork in my hand as I brought it down onto the soft meat of his hand between his thumb and index finger.
Of course, this led Tom to sulk for the rest of the reception, barely paying me any further attention as he nursed his hand and pride. Despite this, everything else was wonderful. The food was delicious, the company kind (oh, Ms Hudson looked so happy), and as the evening wore on, the music was enchanting. Then there was the dancing. So much dancing. Moly loved to dance, despite never having taken a lesson or having had someone else to dance with besides Toby in her flat while she listened on her iPod.
Sherlock started the dancing with a beautiful piece on his violin, Molly supposed he had written it just for them since it wasn't something she had ever heard before. And when Molly tried to get Tom onto the dance floor, he pulled away from her even more. Angry, she stormed from the room out into the garden, Tom close behind telling her that now he understood why she was with him and why she had said yes when he asked her to marry him. How he was stupid for not realizing it sooner before she brought him out to parade him in front of the man to prove she was past him while still in love with him.
Tears running down her face because of his words, Molly turned to face him and he stopped in his tracks. Tom stumbled over himself both moving towards her and trying to take back some of his words, but before he could get close enough, Molly moved and ran back inside t where she knew her true friends and the people she considered family were.
The week had been hectic. A double murder, three from a motoring accident and a body washed up in the Thames. She'd hardly sat all week, between autopsies, lap tests, reports and dealing with Sherlock doing some experiment in a not so obscure corner of her lab. She didn't mind him, but he seemed to be spending so much more time in her lab since the wedding. At times it could be distracting.
This was one of those times. Taking a quick moment at the coffee station, she was stirring two sugars into one mug and just a little cream into her favourite one for herself. Walking down the short hall back to the lab, she was lost in thought about maybe Sherlock appreciating her bringing him a coffee instead of her usual asking.
As she pressed her behind to the door in preparation of pushing it open, the door suddenly disappeared. She stumbled backwards and somehow without spilling a drop of the coffee in either of her hands, suddenly found herself secured in someone's strong arms. Looking up in surprise, she saw the apologetic face of the Detective Inspector peering down at her.
He quickly helped her upright and apologized for the whole thing. He gripped at the back of his neck and looked sheepish for a moment before speaking. "Sorry Molly, you weren't in your office, I was going to grab a cuppa before looking for you." He smiled apologetically at her.
She noticed his teeth were straight and surprisingly white for a smoker and heavy coffee drinker. She glanced at the mugs in her hand and extended the one meant for Sherlock to him. "Two sugars okay?" Greg quirked his head before asking if it was meant for Sherlock, and when the slip of a girl nodded to the affirmative, he smiled before accepting it, glad to take something from Sherlock. Let the berk get his own coffee.
Molly was sure that the DI took his coffee black, but was relieved when he took the second mug from her. He smiled at her, one of those cheeky kind of smiles that he only gave when he knew that, for once, he had one up on Sherlock. Molly genuinely grinned at him for a moment before looking down into her coffee and busying herself with taking a sip to break the contact.
"So, you said you came to see me?" She queried, motioning for the DI to move with her towards her office. He walked beside her warming his hands on the mug he had yet to take a sip from. "Oh, yes," he paused, "I wanted to, erm," he dropped off as they passed Sherlock sitting at one of the microscopes and the detective shot a cold look at Greg when he saw /his/ mug in the DI's hands.
Once in Molly's office, she perched on the edge of her desk, gently placing her mug on a clear space and crossing her legs at the ankles before looking at the man again. Greg leaned against the door and wishing he had dumped the mug on the table next to Sherlock as he passed, looked for a place to set the thing, opting for the little ledge near the bottom of the window at the top of the partition.
Molly watched the policeman acting not entirely himself and awkwardly placing down the mug of still hot coffee carefully. Once he was certain it wasn't going to fall, he stood up tall again and lifted himself from the doorway. He took two steps into the office and stood just one step away from the waiting Molly.
"Well, yeah, I was looking for you," he started. " I just wanted to see how you were doing after this week, I know its been hell for us, but you having to deal with… well," he motioned his hand out towards the lab, the little pathologist understanding what he was trying to say, nodded her head.
She felt a little heat begin in her chest. Nothing dangerous, but it was spreading. Up her neck, and straight into her cheeks. She looked down again, but almost instantly realized she had already set her mug down and didn't have anything to distract herself with, and hoped that the DI hadn't noticed.
Within a moment, she felt more heat, but it wasn't from inside of her. It was from a body, a body close to hers. Looking up, she was startled to find Lestrade had closed the space between them without her noticing. How had he gotten there without seeing his feet move? And why was he looking at her like that?
Suddenly, and without another word or warning, the policeman with the short silver hair had his arms around her and had pressed her into a kiss. Not like any kiss she had ever experienced in her lifetime. It was warm, and insistent without being obnoxious. For a moment she was stiff with surprise, and to her own shock and amazement, she quickly wrapped her arms around Greg and leaned into the kiss, not only returning it, but rewarding it with a tiny little moan.