Hi! In a long time I haven't written anything... So, here I am, writing for something that got me really into it and never had I thought about it - the tv-show "Sherlock". Why am I doing this? Since Sherlock is a character like no other and it's so difficult to be in his mind? I'm coping. Yes, I'm coping after that final episode, "The Final Problem". It was sad and great, heart pumping and I wanted more! I just love Sherlock and his ways and what about that scene with Molly? And him wrecking "her" coffin? Wow!

So, I'm writting something after that storyline to help me cope... (In a very long time a show didn't affect me this much...)

Just a warning: I'm not versed in the science and medical stuff, what I write is what I learn and read on the internet, so give me a break on it. Thank you! And of course, I'm not english born, so bare with me. Ok? However, I'll take any critics and advices you would like to give me. I'm here to learn. Thank you!

This is the first and only chapter for now. I will continue if the muse keeps strucking me. Just be aware that it will take a little time to plot something worth reading. Just enjoy! ;)

Chapter One: What a few words can do

- Molly!

The St. Barts pathologist looked up from the body she was trying to analyze. It was a work she loved, though for some people would be considered gruesome in some way. And she hated it when she got interrupted, even if it was by Sherlock Holmes. Now more than ever.

- What do you want, Sherlock?

The detective consultant immediately noticed the bite in the pathologist words. Like so many times since his return from Sherrinford about two months ago. He knew their relationship had taken a hard blow because of the words he had made her say, the words he had uttered. Twice! It still echoed in his mind, the images were seared in his brain, the pain in her voice and in her eyes. He noticed all of this things, not only because he was her friend - and Molly was most definitely the most important person in his life, besides John and now Rosie - but because since that day, their friendship - yes, friendship - was at peril.

She had retracted herself from being with him or do anything that would have to do with him. Only in the rare occasion of visiting her goddaughter, he would see her, or if it was at Lestrade's request, she would work with him. Otherwise, he would never talk to her.

- I know Lestrade sent you a body to look at. It's that the one? - His too soft blue eyes went from her face to the body and back at her in a matter of a second.

- You're on the case? - Molly asked, her face still in a frown.

Sherlock could see he had upset her. He had many times observed her examining a body without her knowledge. He now wondered if it was because of it, of how she do it, so methodically, that he trusted her regarding his own personal cases. He knew, most of all, she loved her job, but never knew why - that knowledge hit him like a blow and the feeling annoyed him.

Molly Hooper was the most easy person to read and at the same time, the most difficult one. Perhaps she had foreseen how much he would hurt her, and somehow she actually guarded herself against him and his temper by not giving away too much information about herself. And, in that moment, Sherlock Holmes realized how he knew nothing about Molly Hooper.

- Sherlock?

- What? - The detective looked stoically at her.

- Why are you looking at me like that?

- Like what?

- Like you are analyzing... you know what? Forget it.

Sherlock frowned when she said those words in a hushed and quick tone.

- What do you need, Sherlock?

Now those words he remembered. He knew them so well. They were seared in his brain and if he ever had to admit it, they were branded in his heart. And he actually bit his tongue to prevent the same answer from long ago to come out of his lips.

Molly must have thought the same for a lovely - yes, lovely - blush appeared on her cheeks and it made Sherlock's mind go crazy.

- I need... a sample of blood. Two viles and the lab for analysis.

- Sure. I'm almost finishing here and I'll bring the blood to you in a few minutes.

- I can wait. - Said the detective consultant with a frown in his face as he saw Molly stiffen and look away from him with an uncomfortable stance.

- I rather if you leave.

- But...

- This is my room. - Molly said without letting him finish, actually interrupting him. She had never done that. At least, not that he remembered.

- I'll be waiting upstairs, then.

- Mhmm... - Molly barely made any sound, barely acknowledging him.

Sherlock let out a sigh as he stared at her for two seconds before stepping away from the examination room and took the lift to the lab.

It passed half an hour before he listened to the quiet footsteps of Molly Hooper.

The door to the lab opened and he saw her scan the room before landing her brown eyes on him. Her lips became a thin line.

Molly walked slowly to the main table all ready with the instruments for all kinds of analysis.

- Here you go. All yours. - She placed the viles half way across from him. For sure one of his long arms would reach it, avoiding any contact with her. - Have fun. - And she started to leave.

- Where are you going? - Sherlock couldn't refrain from asking. Usually, she stayed to help him and he enjoyed it. Always had.

- My shift ended half an hour ago.

- But... What about the analysis? - Sherlock frowned at the lack of commitment from Molly.

- You're here.

The detective straightened his back, understanding two meaning on her words, on the bite of them and in the pathologist voice.

- I see...

Molly barely nodded.

- You have everything you need?

Sherlock that had look away from her, narrowed his eyes and his piercing blues went back to her. It was like she was making it on purpose, almost as if she was mocking him. He never thought she was capable of it. "No. I need you. Here." He almost said.

- No. I have everything I need right here. - His quiet baritone voice said.

Molly merely nodded and to Sherlock's surprise, he saw a flash of something cross her eyes - sadness?

However, she walked way, shielding her face from him, before he could read her further.

Filing that information for later, Sherlock got to work and spend the rest of the night and most part of the evening doing his own research for the murder at hand.

Reviews are welcome!