I don't own the wonder that is Sherlock.
She was like that with everyone. Moll- Dr. Hooper was acting perfectly unlike herself, void of any feelings.
Sure she talked to other staff members, but something wasn't right. For instance, Sherlock saw Mike Stamford starting to converse with Molly Hooper while they were doing the autopsy, the usual of course. But what quickly became apparent and quite peculiar was that she refused to carry out any form of communication. Yes Molly was replying to how her weekend was. But tight lipped, she merely answered with yes and no to questions pertaining to anything but her work. "How was the weekend Molly? Did you go see the new-" "No, I didn't Mr. Stamford could you pass the report Mrs. Deened made this afternoon? Thank you, I'll just be working alone from here on out." Walking out the door with her report, Mike stood frozen in her room.
As nice as she was being, she kept dismissing people and her smile; it didn't take Sherlock Holmes to see how fake that turned out to be. "Well, someone work up on the wrong side of bed, for once huh Holmes?" Stamford stated making his way out from the morgue. Nothing out of the ordinary, Stamford's right. Sherlock continued on looking in the microscope.
U-gh! She wanted to throw everything off the table; put duct tape on anyone who attempted to make any form of conversation, fling herself off the biggest roof… well she knows there are ways to still be alive if she ever did that now. But she felt her blood boiling, heart pumping faster than ever Sherlock Holmes had done in the past, with his measly fake compliments. She even was cranky towards Toby. Feeling mildly guilty about pushing Toby off her legs, she promised to go home and give him an extra heap full of his favourite beefy snacks. Walking off to get something to eat, she heard someone call her name. "It's Dr. Hooper," she muttered and turned with a nice, perfect, nothing-in-the-world-is-wrong smile. "Oh Mary, in need of something?" Mary halted to a stop in front of her friend, "Nothing, I could do with a big lunch and a giant helpful of ice-cream though, let's get going! And what's with you asking everyone to call you Dr. Hooper now eh?" Falling back Molly felt an oncoming headache come on, "No, actually I'm just coming back from lunch. So sorry, see you whenever."She trailed off. Or never. Great now no lunch either. Mary stared at Molly's back in surprise, why has Molly been avoiding everyone these past few days? She never says no, to anything! And right blatant lie about coming back from lunch, Stamford was just saying how Molly's long overdue for her break. Maybe she's having a tough day, Sherlock was back in the morgue. Pulling out her phone, Mary texted John: Free for lunch? Sherlock-I mean Molly's just stated she'd rather be alone today.
Grabbing something out of the café just downstairs, Molly made her way back to her workplace. Fuck, he's still here.
Seeing Sherlock out of the corner of her eye, she opened up her file and began writing about any findings. She went on peacefully for a good two minutes until from the corner of her eye she saw Sherlock staring at her. Normally, she'd ignore the odd behavior. No, normally she'd gush and stutter until she figured out he was probably in his mind palace. Today she couldn't be arsed with him.
Sherlock wasn't staring. He was noticing. Something was off. Something was very off about his pathologist. Besides the very fact that she'd only said two words to him- he's been in with her since this morning- Molly had made no attempts at asking of how's he's been and whatnot. Did you have lunch Sherlock, you've been working so hard Sherlock, want to grab a bit to eat Sherlock. Usually, no always, it would always irritate him how she asked after him as though he was a child, or a man who would actually be interested. But after hearing Stamford's jab at Molly earlier on, then just getting a text from John asking what he'd done (nothing out of the ordinary, thank you very much), Sherlock decided it was worth his time to deduce what the matter could be with Dr. Molly Hooper.
Rubbing his temples, Sherlock let out a frustrated growl. Nothing. There's wasn't anything to go on because nothing had changed in Molly Hooper, at least anything that can be physically detected from afar. Clothing the usual, unfitted and just cleaned. Shoes, comfy and perfectly cat hair free. Eyes, tired but none more so than usual therefore no sign of lack of sleep that could've resulted from the night prior. What else, what else? Hair, perfectly kempt in the classic Molly ponytail.
Hmmm, when did it become the classic Molly ponytail? Standing up, he walked to her table.
She couldn't find it in herself to be bothered as she popped a raspberry in her mouth. But now, with him standing right in front of her, he was demanding attention. Molly looked up and saw Sherlock with clenched fists and while that might be a scary sight at first, his expression was one of a tight lipped fake-as-they-can get smile. "What is it, what do you need?" No stuttering, no blush on her cheeks, one would say Molly Hooper had finally moved on but if her behavior is equalized amongst her colleagues as well, Sherlock had to make another assumption. "Are you feeling alright, Molly? Any symptoms of nausea, headache, or fever?" Molly's smile faltering she squeaked out in a controlled voice, "First of all Mr. Holmes, it's Doctor Hooper. Not too hard to say, if it feels too long you're perfectly permitted to not say anything at all. And why on earth would I not be fine. Signs of nausea? Not particularly at the moment but I did once I saw your pleasant face this morning. Headache? You might be giving me one no, check that, make that a yes, I am getting a headache. And to your last inquiry, no fever. Done deducing then? Now, if that would be all please leave me be to do my work!"
"I-"
"Oh, this is about the food inside the office isn't it? My BLOODY apologies, how dare the smell of food get in the way of YOUR office." Throwing the raspberry box into the garbage Molly sat back on the chair, fuming. That was the last straw, Sherlock Holmes deducing her, and for what? Not asking him to lunch which he will promptly say no to anyway?!
Taking the rational approach, Sherlock decided to calmly inquire, "Moll-Dr. Hooper, since when did I become Mr. Holmes to you?" "I'm not your friend as you've clearly stated oh so many times in the past, you merely come in to do work, and you're barely accountable as a colleague. And don't give me the you're so important to me Molly crap. We both know that's not true." Sherlock had no idea now why Molly was acting like this. After all that has happened, can she still not observe how important she was to everyone, to him?
"So I think it's perfectly fine to call you Mr. Holmes."
Trying to focus on her work, Molly tapped furiously her foot so that Sherlock would take a hint and leave. But this is Sherlock Holmes, and if nothing is stated directly, then there is no hint to be taken. Continuing on, Sherlock asked carefully, "Did your cat die then Molly? Has Toby reached an untimely death?"
"Get out."
"I beg your pardon?" Sherlock was taken aback by Molly's seething- seething- tone.
Closing her eyes for a minute, Molly breathed, "Now. I'm tired Sherlock. I'm tired and I'm done. I'm in my 30s, have absolutely nothing going for me, my best friend isn't human, I look as though I'm a zombie on my best days, and I manage to mess up any plans of my dream future which should include happiness and friends, family, success... Wait, I don't need to be telling this to some random man-."
"Since when did I become rando-" Molly held up her hand, "Do let me finish, I don't need some man asking me how I am feeling because guess what Sherlock Holmes, I'm finally taking your advice into account. And I do say I thank you for it."
"And what might that be Molly?"
Fighting the urge to punch Sherlock in the face, she found her voice and whispered, "Its Dr. Hooper, and you were right. About sentiment. It truly is for fools. Thank you for letting me see the right of your ways."
Molly trying to sound stronger than she was feeling, cleared her throat, "I think I'm going to take the rest of the day off; clearly you need the space for individual work. I'll finish my report tomorrow."
For the first time, Sherlock had no time to react seeing how quickly Molly pretty much ran out the door. Fearing for the worst, Sherlock quickly dialed for John: John, something has gone horribly wrong. I think I lost Molly.
What? Sherlock, how did you lose Molly in the morgue-
No John, I may have broken her.
So, wow um hello! I hope you enjoyed that. I'm a long time Sherlolly fan and this is my very first Sherlock fic so hopefully it's not too bad. I wish I took more time to edit but I was very excited to show Molly in ...an angry way and see how Sherlock would respond to that. I'm not sure if this will be left as a one-shot or multi-chapter just yet, do let me know what you think. Once again, thank you thank you thank you for just reading it and my apologies for anything that might be out of the ordinary (specifically the conversations because I'm not British, so it was tough trying to not sound Canadian haha).
Also, I am on tumblr so ask for it if you'd like :D
