Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Steve Moffat, Mark Gatiss own Sherlock and his realm. I just own my computer,my version of Openoffice, and my sick fantasies. English is not my native language, please forgive the mistakes and the typos.

I decided to give my 100th reviewer on my story "Don't you want me ?" the chance to have a one-shot based on a prompt . My dear reviewer ConstanceBoniful gave me this prompt : "bodyswap ". So...here's your one-shot, ma chérie ! Well technically, I started to write it like a one-shot, but then...I decided otherwise. It's going to be a three-part story .The title is from (surprise !) a Depeche mode song, "When the body speaks"-yes, I may be a little in love with Dave Gahan and Martin Gore, and use their songs to reach my inner muse .

"To the soul's desires
The body listens
What the flesh requires
Keeps the heart imprisoned

What the spirit seeks
The mind will follow
When the body speaks
All else is hollow "

When the body speaks - Martin L. Gore

That morning, the first thing Molly Hooper noticed, aside from the annoying light coming from the window, was a strange itchy sensation, that began on her neck and spread over her chin and cheeks, stopping just under her nose . She tried to scratch just under her pointy nose, but she found an unexpected obstacle: apparently her nose was a bit longer, and wider .

She turned around in her bed, the sheets still covering her body, and she found the second surprise of the day : someone else was sleeping next to her . In her bed . Someone else was sleeping in her bed . She could only see the upper portion of the body : long, brown hair were covering the backside, and she noted a mole on the left shoulder blade .

" Strange...I have the same mole on my shoulder...wait a minute, there's a woman in my bed !?" . How much did she drink last night ? She remembered clearly a dinner with John, Mary, Sherlock , Lestrade and his new girlfriend Susan . It looked too much like a triple date to her, and the sour expression on Sherlock's face told her that he had been forced to be there . Probably blackmailed by John, she thought, before drinking the first of many glasses of wine . At the end of the dinner she was a bit tipsy ( she might be a tiny pathologist, but she knew how to hold her alcohol ), and the gloomy consulting detective had decided to walk her home - probably only to avoid spending more time with the two happy couples . When they arrived at her flat, she had offered him some Moroccan tea her friend Adele had brought her last month...then, black out . She could not recollect when a third person - a woman - had arrived, or why she was sharing her bed with her...

Molly decided to be brave, and lifted the sheets that covered both her and the stranger, and instantly let it fall, not before a scream escaped her mouth . She didn't know what frightened her more : the fact that her voice was really deep and low, or that she was naked, like the woman beside her, or maybe...maybe the most disturbing thing was the fact that her body, was not hers . How could she be so sure ? Well, first of all, she had no boobs, but to make it up for the lack of breasts, she had an "appendage" ( she scolded herself, she was a doctor, after all ! She saw naked bodies every day, and obviously a large amount of those had a...penis) between her hairy legs that she was certain was not part of her...initial equipment .

Strangely her shriek was not loud enough to wake up the woman next to her . Molly left her bed and her bedroom stealthily and roamed around her living room, searching for clues . Her clothes were scattered on the floor, her bra was hanging on the lamp near her sofa, and one of her ballet flat was on the coffee table . She turned the corner and reached the entrance, where she finally found the other shoes...and a very familiar coat . It was inimitable, and unique, like its owner . If his coat was there, where was he ? And why was he still in her house ? Molly walked the hall pensively, and was still in deep thought when she suddenly found her face reflected in the mirror near her shoe rack . This time she didn't shrill: she promptly fainted .

When Molly woke up, the first thing she saw was her face. She seemed concerned, and a little worried." It's so strange...I'm sure I'm on the floor, but I can see my face in the mirror...since when do I have a mirror on the ceiling ?" she asked herself

" Molly...how do you feel, Molly ? Are you ok ?". The pathologist nodded, before realizing that she had not opened her mouth, so where did her voice come from ? And why was she asking herself if she was okay ? Molly tried to stand up, but she felt still light-headed, and her head touched the floor with a loud - and hurtful -"thud".

" Would you please stop damaging my body ? It may be only a transport, but I'm quite partial of it "

" Since when do I speak like this ?" Molly was sure she was the one speaking, but what came out from her mouth was strangely similar to Sherlock's voice...wait a minute, it was exactly Sherlock's voice ! Why was she speaking with his voice ? She took one look at her naked body, and there were still no boobs, instead her chest was broad, flat, and adorned of a light red hair in the middle...She heard her voice call her name again, her tone alarmed...and she fainted again . The last words she heard before losing consciousness were " Why does she insist into banging my head on her floor ?"

The second time she woke up - or was it the third time,she was utterly confused now- she was dressed . Nearly completely dressed, since there were two tiny, pale hand adjusting a buckle on her sartorial trousers...she sprang back and in a second she was on her feet. Molly remembered what she had seen in the mirror, and with a terrified whisper she asked " Who are you ? Wh- why are you in my body instead of me ? And why did I see Sherlock's face when I looked at myself in the mirror ?"

Let me know your opinions, and thanks for reading !