Sherlock walked into the morgue with his best companion, John Watson, following behind. Sherlock had a big smile on his face as he was figuring he would need to coax Molly to get him what he needed. Though, that wasn't too much of a challenge for the great consulting detective.

"Sherlock, I've been trying to tell you- if you would just listen…"

Sherlock stopped in his tracks, a perplexed look on his face. He turned around to look at John.

"I was just talking to Mike Stamford, and he said that Molly called out sick today," John explained, watching Sherlock's expression turn from confused to annoyed. Sherlock was like a child, he wanted something when he wanted it, and would often get frustrated if his demands were not met right immediately.

"Molly does not take her sick days."

"Everyone gets sick sometimes, Sherlock," John said, rolling his eyes. "Not everyone wishes to sacrifice their health for their work; that's just you."

"She comes into work even when she isn't feeling well," he said, narrowing his eyes as he pulled his mobile out of his pocket and sent a quick text. "I need her here."

John smirked at Sherlock's discomfort because he knew that Sherlock dreaded the thought of working with anyone else. "I guess you'll just have to find another pathologist to help you out today," he said crossing his arms as the grin widened. Then he added with a chuckle, "if any of them are willing to put up-work- with you," he said, choking a bit as Sherlock was glaring at him when he heard the last part of John's sentence.

Sherlock scoffed: "If I worked with anyone else, I'd be telling them how to do their job. This is why I work with Molly; she is one of the best in her field."

"Well, I guess that's just too bad then," John said smugly.

"No, actually," Sherlock replied matter-of-factly, his eyes skimming over his phone, "I'll just ask her to come in."

"Sherlock…" John started, looking at him sternly.

"Well, she isn't answering my text, so I'll just have to go over there and see," he said, a determined smile on his face as he tucked his phone back into his pocket and popped up his coat collar.

"Or you could leave her be for once, and let her get some rest."

"Come on now, John, priorities! There's a murderer out there just waiting to be caught and all you can think of is a pathologist with a cold?"

John ran a hand down his face and shook his head as he watched the detective swiftly exit the morgue, resolute in bringing Molly back here.

Molly bit her lip as she was pressed up close against him. "I've never done this before."

"What? Never called out of work for fun?" he said, pressing his forehead to hers.

"Well, no, not really. I never call out, actually," she said as she gave a shy smile.

He gave her a peck on the lips, pressing his body closer as she gently tugged on the lapels of his shirt. "Well, I'm sure it's much better than some tall, odd-looking bloke giving you a hard time."

"Andrew!" she squeaked. "He's not- he's just… very focused on his work that he rarely thinks about anything else."

"So that excuses him being an arse to you?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

She was biting her lip, "well, no, but-"

She was interrupted by a knock at the door. She looked at the door quizzically as she was not expecting anyone and walked up to it, peering through the peephole.

"Sherlock?" Molly said.

"Yes, Molly. Has your condition affected your memory or your eyesight?" he asked sarcastically, annoyance clear in his voice.

Lovely, Molly thought as she opened the door.

She went to step outside the door to talk to Sherlock, but he stepped in before she had the chance and began looking her over, deducing her. She could see it clear in his eyes.

She was still in her pyjamas but looked very much healthy, and very much happy. Sherlock had heard the comment about himself and so when his eyes went to Andrew, they narrowed and he was looking more irritated.

Molly cringed, introductions were definitely not something she was good at, but she felt uncomfortable. She wasn't going to let Sherlock pretend Andrew didn't exist though, like he would try to do. "This is uhm- this is Andrew, he's my…" she trailed off, but they didn't have a word for what they were yet; they hadn't been seeing each other for very long.

Andrew stepped up close to Sherlock and stuck his hand out, "boyfriend."

Sherlock looked down at his hand, but did not move his own to return the gesture. After a second, he looked back up to Andrew, eyes still narrowed. "From prior discussions with Molly, I know she does not consider a man she's been on a date with two- no, three- times to be her boyfriend."

Molly blushed; she should've seen that coming.

Andrew spoke up again, dropping his hand. "I don't see her objecting, mate," he said coolly, a smug smirk on his face.

Molly cleared her throat; this was getting quite uncomfortable very fast. "So uhm, Sherlock, what do you need?" She cringed internally at the repetitive phrase. It was the same one she asked when she had to help Sherlock; when she had to risk everything to help him fake his death, make him disappear.

Not looking away from the man he answered Molly's question. "I need you at the morgue; an intriguing case has come about and I need something confirmed."

"Sherlock, I called out of work…" she said, her voice becoming small.

"You called out sick."

"Yes, well, there are, er, other pathologists in the lab that could help you," she suggested.

"Don't play stupid, Molly. You know I don't work with any pathologist but yourself."

Molly didn't know whether to smile at the fact that Sherlock came halfway across the city because he was determined to solely work with her, or to be annoyed that he was going to drag her away from the pleasant morning. She was never one to fight with Sherlock though; of course she was going to comply.

She stared at Sherlock for a few moments too long before letting out a small sigh, looking down at the floor. "Could you uhm- could I have a minute then?"

"I'll get a cab," he said, sweeping out of the door quickly, giving Andrew another look before he made his exit.

When he was out of sight, she turned her eyes away from Andrew as she began walking towards her bedroom, embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Andrew, I need to go in, he needs my help."

She was expecting him to leave. Sherlock was an ass, and often ruined her chances with another man, but it was usually before she had even gone on the date, making her stay late at work and unintentionally leave them hanging. Instead there were hands on her shoulders and she turned around to look at him.

"It's okay," he said, a bright smile on his face. "You can make it up to me." A small smile spread across Molly's face as he continued. "Another date tomorrow night?"

"That sounds wonderful," Molly replied. She leaned in to give him a peck on the lips when the moment was interrupted by a loud horn, probably from the cab.

Molly was quiet in the cab, leaning against the window on her side. She was irritated; she wanted to stay with Andrew. They were starting to get to know each other, and he was lovely, not to mention good in bed. And as she recalled the previous lovely night she spent with him, a smile spread across her face.

There was another big reason that she liked Andrew though, one she didn't want to admit to herself. She turned her head a bit and stared at the man that consumed her thoughts so much.

Andrew distracted her from the idea of a "chance" with Sherlock. Andrew was enough to make her forget, and maybe she would be able to move on. If saving a man's life didn't make him want you- well, then Molly was convinced that nothing could. She was tired of being a pushover, of giving up so much for Sherlock with nothing in return. She didn't even know why she agreed to come into the morgue. She should have just told him no, but of course she couldn't.

She didn't realise she was still staring at him, or the heavy sigh she let out.

"Problem?" Sherlock asked, looking to her.

She looked down at her fidgeting hands, giving an awkward smile. "Uh, no- I'm fine."

John rolled his eyes as he looked to the annoying consulting detective and the pathologist that followed him in.

"Really, Sherlock?" he said, and then turned to Molly. "Hey," he said, giving her a sympathetic smile.

"Hey, John," she smiled back. She knew by the look on John's face that there had been a conversation before Sherlock left the morgue to fetch her. John was always kind and caring; she wished she knew him better because she knew they would be wonderful friends.

"I need to see Mr Webber," Sherlock said, ignoring John and looking to her.

"Right," she noted, putting on her lab coat as she tried not to let out a huff.

She pulled out the body, the autopsy had already been done and Sherlock walked over to the slab, taking one look at him.

"Just as I thought," Sherlock said, "poison. The entrance would is between the webs of his fingers. Call Lestrade, John. Tell him to bring in the brother."

Molly's mouth dropped as she realised that the five seconds of looking at the body was what Sherlock had brought her halfway across the city for.

John cringed as he looked over to Molly and then shrugged. If it were anyone else, especially him, John would have thought Molly would blow up at Sherlock, but she was always selfless when it came to anyone, especially Sherlock Holmes. He wished he could encourage her to tell him to stuff it.

She closed her mouth and cleared her throat, looking to Sherlock.

"It's a good thing that doctor was there to see you at your flat, Molly… Aaron, was it?" Sherlock blurted out. "You're looking a little pale."

"Andrew," she corrected, trying to suppress her annoyance. Sherlock knew his name, he was just being irritating.

John looked over in surprise as he realised why Molly had called out, recalling seeing a few times when the doctor had been flirting with her; she hadn't looked sick anyway but John let out a quiet chuckle.

"Yes," Sherlock said absent-mindedly, not really listening as he was about to step out of the morgue when John spoke up now.

"Sherlock," John said as the man looked over to him. "Isn't there something else you want to say to Molly for for troubling her to come all the way down here?" He really did have to treat him like a child.

He shrugged. "What else is there to say?"

"A thank you, probably," Molly said, keeping her façade calm, but she was irritated.

"Thank you, Dr Hooper," he said, nodding and walked out the door.

"I'm sorry that he's such an arse, Molly," John said, and she gave a small smile of forgiveness as he walked out the door, trying to catch up with Sherlock as his mobile dialled Lestrade.

As they strolled back into 221B John spoke up. "You didn't need to be a prick about it, Sherlock."

"Molly was ignoring her responsibilities, John," he said, walking over to his chair and sitting down in it.

"She also is not obligated to drop everything for you, Sherlock. She has in the past and you're still inconsiderate of her."

"Molly shows… affection for me, and I requested that she be the only pathologist to help me. That should be sufficient enough to satisfy her."

"What the hell is wrong with you? Do you use everyone whom you come in close contact with? You've always taken advantage of her."

"I was simply giving her a notion to buck up from her cold," Sherlock swatted away John's sadly correct words, pretending to disregard them.

"You don't get it, Sherlock, about the doctor, do you?"

"What?"

"She's shagging him."

Sherlock scoffed at the word in disgust and it made John smirk a bit. "Yes, John, I realise, I'm not thick."

John let out a loud chuckle at that.

"Sorry?" Sherlock said, looking to him and narrowing his eyes.

"Nothing, Sherlock," he said, rolling his eyes. "Forget I said anything," he said, walking over and opening up his laptop to type up the solved case.