Chapter One
Just another normal work day for Molly Hooper. At St. Bart's Hospital, she stayed tucked away examining the cold, dead bodies of the morgue.
Her wristwatch rang to alert her that her shift was over. Nine in the bloody evening, and her coworkers were annoying the living daylights out of her today. Not a soul was in sight, unless you counted the trapped souls in the morgue.
The laboratory, which was deemed her second home, was filled to the brim with glass vials and beakers. All of them containing some substance that he had left out a few months ago.
'Great way to breed bacteria,' she thought to herself.
As she made her way to clock out, padding of feet ran up behind her.
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Two Months Ago…
Sherlock sat in his flat laying on his sofa staring angrily at the ceiling.
He still couldn't piece together the last murder he'd been working on lately.
John was at work, probably sitting at his desk as a doctor, while Sherlock sat around their flat and yelled aloud when he discovered something new to lead him to the next clue.
Their kitchen was littered with at least a dozen bottles, two hundred different test tubes, a microscope, and a stove acting as a Bunsen burner. Not to forget the multiple sets of human limbs in their fridge to test the different types of blood.
Mrs. Hudson slowly walked in and placed his tea in front of him.
"FOOTPRINTS," he screamed suddenly.
Mrs. Hudson almost dropped the sugar bowl on the floor when he exclaimed it. He got up, walked across the coffee table, and into his bedroom to grab his overcoat and scarf. He slung it around his neck and walked out the door, still in his nightclothes.
"I guess no tea this mornin'," she asked the wall.
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We walked swiftly down the sidewalk calling for a taxi to get to the crime scene.
He sat there and stared at the cloud-laden sky.
Once he arrived he quickly opened the door and took a blacklight with him. He found the footrints and took a screwdriver to pry the floorboard off.
He walked back out, now with a long wood floorboard under his arm, calling for a taxi to take him to St. Bart's.
Present Day…..
She turned around, and of course it was Sherlock and John in front of her.
Usual.
"I need some scans on this mold we found in the footprint. It should be a rare mold only found in the Upper Islands of Scotland," he said handing her a plastic baggie full of wood shards.
"But, I…," she interjected.
"Shhh, please this will only take a few minutes," he said as he pressed a finger to her lips to quiet her.
She rolled her eyes and smiled.
"Fine," she said as she clocked back in."Better not take the whole night."
And of course it did.
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John had waddled to the upper floors to his office to sleep. He passed out on his desk once he hit the chair.
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Sherlock and Molly remained in the laboratory testing out different variables, each one with different chemicals. This specific mold reacted with potassium nitrate.
Molly sat her desk looking up different types of mold on her computer and through books. She sat there sifting through endless files.
She glanced up from her work. "I don't know why I do this for you," she commented.
"Because," he looked up from the microscope. "Because you care."
"Care about, bout what," she stuttered. She stutters because she gets nervous around Sherlock, because she is slightly fond of him.
"Me," he stated.
Her face turned a deep shape of red.
He was true. She just wanted to hear it from him.
"Molly, Molly, Molly. You've been saving this for months on end. Saving that one exact little question. Particularly when it's just us two, when everyones away. I know that purpose now," he strang all together.
"Well,... um," she said under her breath. He was right. He was right about everything. But there would be one last secret he couldn't piece together. Not until later.
I hope you guys enjoy this fanfic, I went on a Netflix watching spree, finished all the episodes in a week, just to gather info for this fanfic, so you guys can read it. :) ~PiinkSkyy