Molly was tired. Exhausted even. After all, performing autopsies on five different bodies, combined with the four extra shifts she had taken, and the mountain of paperwork that awaited her after her holiday, had sapped her of all the energy she had.
She climbed the last few steps to her apartment. Strangely, she felt a little light headed. Probably from fatigue, she reasoned. She stood in front of her door, fumbling for her keys. After almost an eternity, she found them in her bag, and she opened her door.
Sherlock was sprawled across the couch, as usual, in his usual thinking posture, consisting of hands steeped under the chin, and a blank, unfocused look in his eyes. He did not notice her coming into the flat. And, today, she did not seem to notice him either.
She made a beeline straight to the kitchen. The walk from the hospital had been refreshing, yes, but it also made her thirsty. She opened her fridge, took out a bottle of water, opened it, and drank it. Then, she went to her room, and then her bathroom, to wash, change and relax a little.
When she reappeared from her room, clean and sweet smelling, she noticed that he was in the same position. She went over to the couch, and poked him. He blinked thrice, startled by the sudden intrusion from the outside world, and stared at her, demanding an explanation. She pointed at the television. "I want to sit on the couch and watch TV" she stated.
He obliged her by removing himself completely from the couch. She did not care to look where he went, just as long as he was not bothering her. Around dinner time, she got up. Not feeling quite hungry, she decided to just snack on some crisps and have a glass of juice. Settled comfortable in front of the television again, she ate, until, feeling quite drowsy, she went to her bedroom to sleep.
About midnight, she suddenly woke up. She blinked in confusion, surprised that she was not dreaming. Why on earth did she wake up? She smelled the air. No, nothing burning, nothing exploding, nothing blasting. Then what made her wake up so abruptly. Her answer came in the form of a feeling of nausea.
She made it to the bathroom in record time. Leaning over the toilet rim, she let go of her entire dinner, lunch, breakfast, and all other contents of her stomach. After heaving a few times, she sat down on the cold floor, which suddenly seemed very inviting to her still sleep-warm body. She closed her eyes, and took shallow breaths from her mouth. Was she suffering from food poisoning?
She felt bile rise up to her throat again. This happened at least five times, until Molly was sure that she would retch her stomach out. She was shivering violently. She could never handle being sick, and right now, she was very, very sick. Black dots appeared in her vision, and however hard she tried, she could not blink them away. She settled for sitting on the floor, holding her knees, eyes closed, head tucked in between legs, and breathing lightly. She was shaken by all the vomiting.
She heard a knock on the door, and without thinking, she whispered loudly, "Come in"