A/N: I do not own any of the Charaters yada yad ya. (I wish :D) Hope you enjoy!
Sherlock contuined to mutter under his breath, pacing back and forth across the living room of 221B Baker Street. John sat on his favourite chair waiting for Sherlock to finish his normal rant he has eveytime he doesn't have a case to work on.
"One day is all I want with a decent case with normal murder, not a bloody suicide. What are people doing here in London. Having a cup of tea, talking with nonsense with other people." Sherlock whipped around to John," I'm suprised you can live like that, a normal, boring brain." Sherlock contuined his rant all the while John sat looking at the famous detective. Some days living with him can be hell, other can be fantastic. Turning, Sherlock started to pace again mumbling to himself. The sound of a text broke the anoying ranting, and with that Sherlock was running to retrieve the phone. Coming out, Sherlock let John read the text.
'Murder. London bridge. Come quick.' - DL
Sherlock took the phone back and replied.
'On our way.' - SH
Sherlock picked up his coat and scarf before rushing out the door, nearly knocking over Mrs. Hudson. Sherlock mumbled something about moving out of his way, while John just shook his head. Outside the door, Sherlock whistled for a taxi while waiting for John to finish talking with Mrs. Hudson in the doorway. Sherlock got inside the taxi, giving the address to the driver. John slipped inside the taxi, closing the door. The taxi rolled forward, taking the pair off Bakers Street and onto the main road. Five minutes later, the car pulled in from of the yellow tapes. Sherlock jumped out of the taxi, running past the police officers to the crime scene. John paid the driver; getting out John made his way over to Detective Inspector Lestrade. He was standing back as Sherlock walked around the victim, his face as calm as ever.
"Name." Sherlock threw at Sergent Donovan. The Sergent whipped her head at DI Lestrade, who meraly shrugged at her. She turn to see Sherlock with a small smirk on his face.
"Abigail Richardson. Age, 23 years old. Mother a teacher in cambridge, father died in a car acddient when she was ten. No brothers or sisters. Known for her paper on -"
"Yes, I know all that. I wanted to know if you could tell me her name. That's all. Now, she has bruises over her neck, blood on the end of her fingers suggests that she fought her attcker, and well might I add."
"What do you mean by 'fought her attacker well." That would mean she new her attacker." Sherlock turned to the voice he new so well. Soft, melody to his ears, but he would never admit it. Coming round the corner he saw Molly Hooper, a pathologist from that help him fake his death. He hasen't spoken to her in months since that famous day. Pulling back from his thoughts, he turned to where Molly was looking at the body. She turned to Lestrade, giving him a small, sad smile.
"She fought hard, most of the skin is gone from her knuckles. Have you told her family yet?"
"No, I haven't. I was going to do it after you took the body." Molly shook her head. Sherlock looked at John with the 'What?' look, who just shook his head in return. Sherlock turned back to the pair.
"Don't. I want to be able to tell you how she died if they want to know." Molly then turned to look a Lestrade fully, "Are we still on for toinght?" Lestrade smiled full on at that. He nodded. Sherlock snapped his head down to Molly. He looked at her then Lestrade. He felt something stir in his stomach, was it jealousy. 'Me, jealous' Sherlock thought, that words was foreign in his mind. He shook his head, impossible. With than, Sherlock looked at Molly then the body, "I will see you in the morgue Molly, I want the results by 3:00pm, alright?" The one thing Sherlock wasn't expecting was an answer back from this new Molly.
"Sorry, Sherlock. I've got a date today so after this I'm off. Mabye Anderson could help you."Sherlock flinched when she said that idiot's name. He would work with Molly only her. He saw a small smirk on her face before she turned to Lestrade, walked up to him and kissed his cheak. Molly turned, and walked off while shouting over her shoulder, "John, Sherlock, nice to see you two again." With that, Molly turned around the corner and disappeared. Sherlock spun to face DI Lestrade who looked quite proud of himself.
"So," John started,"Care to explain." Lestrade looked at the pair. He cleared his throat, while shuffling in feet under Sherlock's gaze.
"Two weeks ago, I asked if Molly wanted to got on a date, and...well...she said yes. And we have been dating for the last two weeks." Lestrade replied. John walked over to the DI and patted his back, a smile on his face. Molly deserves some to look after her. He smiled at him, while Sherlock just stared him down. He strode over to the DI, he leaned down and whispered in his cold, hard voice, "Hurt her, you will wish you have never met me Greg Lestrade." With that, Sherlock whipped round, and walked out to the road. John looked at the now pale Inspector. John shook his head and followed the friend who just turned a detective inspector pale white. John followed his friend, to him he though Sherlock had feeling for Molly, maybe he just found the weakness he needs to make him human.