A Social Experiment

"Yikes," she gasped as she pulled the sheet back from the figure on the gurney. She flinch at her hard words, "Sorry, not that you're not pretty. I'm sure you'll still be a looker when they lay you out in the casket." Molly never understood why she felt the need to be kind to the dead that lay on her table. Maybe because she knew that she wanted whoever did her autopsy when her time came to be as kind to her. "Let's see. It looks like it was a pretty nasty fall. Punctured lung, bruised spleen, and a lot of internal bleeding. You didn't suffer long though. That's good. I want to go like that. Not off a bridge mind you, no offense, but quickly. I don't want it to hurt."

"I'm quite sure it always hurts Molly. Its death it's supposed to hurt," a deep voice said from the door. Molly jumped at the familiar voice and her scalpel dragged a jagged cut down the unmarred skin. She sighed heavily at the damage; she had wanted to leave what she could intact. "You should be careful with that, its' not a toy."

"Yes, I realize," she rolled her eyes, but he couldn't see that, she still hadn't turned to face the intruder.

"That tone Molly, I don't believe I've ever heard you use that tone with me. You must be quite irritated. What happened?" he asked.

She took a deep breathe and rolled her shoulders. She did not want to have this conversation with Sherlock Holmes. The man she loved, the man she could never have. He had proven that numerous times and she was finally ready to let him go. Too bad it seemed that no one else in the world wanted her either. Todd, the man who lived in the flat next door to her, had seemed nice enough and willing to give her a chance, until he stood her up last night without a phone call or note. Now Molly felt the need to avoid him in the hallways, in the elevator, and in the little coffee shop just down the street from their shared apartment building. How was she going to manage that? And another question, why did she feel the need to avoid him? Maybe he had a good reason for standing her up without so much of a whisper. Maybe his mother fell ill, or he was in an accident.

"Molly? It is quite obvious that something happened and since John specifically told me that I need to be nicer to people, I am asking what is wrong. Either tell me or avoid the subject and ask me why I am here, so we can both get on with our business," Sherlock stated impatiently still standing near the door.

"All right Sherlock what do you need?" Molly asked pulling the sheet back over the woman's body and finally turning to face him.

He looked her over carefully and the scrutiny made her twitch uncomfortably. He hardly ever deduced her, she wasn't interesting enough, and when he did it never turned out well when he did. She remembered the Hell that Christmas had been and closed her eyes, ready for his caustic remarks concerning her current failures as a human being. "You look tired. Perhaps I should come back another time?"

Her eyes popped open in surprise. She was certain he at least knew the general outline of what made her so tired because he was Sherlock and of course he knew, but instead of using it and tearing her apart he just let it go. She wasn't sure if she liked it. True, when he deduced her he was callous, rude, and terribly mean, but he was paying attention to her. He was looking at her and even if what he said was terrible, it meant he noticed her.

"No, its fine. You're right though I don't want to talk about it, but what is it you needed," she asked wiping her palms along her skirt to smooth it out. The gesture soothed her, put her back in control.

"Fair enough," he said in his normal, clipped manner and the familiarity of it did even more to sooth and comfort her. "I was looking to get my hands on a few samples: specifically a couple of fingers, a kidney, and possibly some veins, but only if you have an unattached bundle. I don't particularly need those, I'm just curious about something."

He was still tiptoeing, she could feel it. His tone was gentle and he was making allowances for the bundle of veins. What did he know that she didn't? 'Everything,' he brain replied and she fought the urge to roll her eyes and answer that little voice. "I have them. Give me a minute and I'll have a bag ready," she said as she crossed to the refrigerated storage unit where donated body parts were kept. "There's quite a selection of fingers over here. If you want you can take your pick. Only one kidney though. I hope it's what you need. There's some marginal damage, he was getting on in years when his heart gave out. Poor Mr. Talkey."

"Molly, I believe I've told you this before: You talk too much," Sherlock's voice came from over her shoulder. Molly jumped slightly and the jump sent her back a few centimeters, but it was enough to cause her to brush her full body to his. She closed her eyes at the sensation and gulped a large amount of air into her lungs. "However, it was kind of you to offer. I would love to choose. In fact I was hoping there would be several options. I am partial to the ones on that young woman, but I don't believe she's a donor and I highly doubt you would make the exception," he stated directly avoiding her obvious arousal and her clumsy nature.

"No, I don't think so," she said following his lead and playing the tension off. Not that he was tensioned. She doubted that normal circumstances could ever intrigue him in any way, especially romantically.

"Pity, she has lovely hands. No matter, I'll take these and the kidney is fine. Did you manage to find the veins?" he asked looking over to where she stood by another refrigerated drawer.
"Yes, here, they're a little old. They came in about a week ago. He seemed like a nice man. He took care of himself, didn't drink and exercised regularly. His was a sad autopsy, an undetected aneurysm. It was quite a shock to his family," she sighed over the remains.

"Lovely, those will work beautifully," Sherlock was once again standing mere centimeters behind her and again Molly's body betrayed her. Goosebumps erupted over her flesh and a deep blush came over her cheeks.

"Good, I'm glad I could help," she said breathily. 'Damn him, damn him straight to Hell. What is going on? He has to notice the effect he has. He's just being rude.'

"Oh, you've helped me a great deal today Molly Hooper," Sherlock whispered into her ear. He still hadn't moved and she could feel how close his body was to hers. Close nearly touching, but not quite. It was maddening and his whisper sent a full body shiver through her.

He left and she continued to stand there minutes after he had left trying to puzzle out what had just happened. It seemed he'd been purposefully attempting to get a rise out of her, but why?