Sherlock glanced up in annoyance as the lab doors banged open, and then closed; his usually quiet, reserved pathologist stomped over to her desk and dropped her bag on the floor, flopped into her chair, and kicked off her shoes.
"I need to see Joanna Henri."
"We all need things," she snapped, punching the power button on her computer to turn it on; despite her words, she got up again and wheeled out the woman.
The detective frowned to himself; clearly something was off with the woman. He quickly forgot any interest, however, when the body was before him, offering a possible and tantalizing conclusion to his latest case.
She was faintly impatient, but he was done soon anyways, and she hurriedly put the body back. Sherlock had flown off somewhere by the time she returned to the lab.
Grumbling, she sat in her chair once more and wrote up a few reports to try and take her mind off of other things.
"I brought something interesting." And there he was again, looming over the back of her chair.
Molly took in a deep breath, so as not to snap at him, and looked up.
"Oh?"
He nodded, leaning forward slightly for effect (his brother was right, she reflected: he really was a drama queen sometimes (not that Mycroft wasn't all the time)) and held up a large brown paper bag.
"Brains."
She blinked a few times, needing to register what he had said, simply staring at him.
"…A brown paper bag… of brains?" she asked, slightly hesitantly. "Where…Where did you get them?"
He sighed slightly, straightening.
"Honestly, Molly. They're in containers in the bag. Do you want a look or not? One of them has some fascinating flesh-eating parasite and another is from a schizophrenic that had a lobotomy and cancer," he said, and Molly had a sudden and bizarre mental image of a cat that brought his master a dead squirrel.
Well… I'm not wasting this squirrel.
The woman stood and got a station ready rather eagerly, her former anger forgotten.
Sherlock brought his brains over, seeming mildly eager himself.
And so, they spent most of the day cutting into brains, parasites and cancer; Moly was happy and Sherlock was content to study it.
They ended for the day when Sherlock got a text from Lestrade.
Tell me you didn't take the organs we confiscated from that guy's house. Please. –L
Sherlock smirked. He didn't bother replying, returning to the brains that Molly was so eagerly babbling about. It was oddly good to have her bad mood dissipated; he didn't think he liked sulky Molly, and he needed his pathologist to stay stable. Who else would he bully into being his friend?
So…yeah. Another random drabble, co-authored with my sister. It's posted on Wattpad under her account as well, so no copyright fits, please. Ummm…It is loosely based off a prompt my sister found online, 'Say it with a spleen' (hence the title). I don't know where she got it, so…yeah. Anywho…Please enjoy and please review! Thanks!
EDIT: For the record, I am aware that the morgue and lab are two different places. I thought I made it clear when I said that Molly went back to the lab after helping Sherlock with the body. Also, it is perfectly feasible to be dissecting individual body parts in a the lab. I've done it myself. Hope that clears up the confusion.