A Not So Normal Day at the Lab
27th July
Something interesting happened today and I can firmly say that no one would guess what. No, really, go ahead. Guess. You probably think it has something to do with a body or Sherlock doing something stupid, right? Well, that's not it, for once. Shocking, I know.
It was a show of personal interest, of, uhm, attachment or something like that. I'm not even sure what to call it. It was Sherlock being surprisingly... transparent. I could see into his mind, just for a little moment. And what I saw, what I would call it, anyway, was caring.
"John, will you grab a bag of Quavers from the machine?"
"Uhm, what?"
"This coffee tastes like mud."
"And how do you... oh, nevermind," John replied, fishing change out of his pocket for the machine. "You're not on a case, then?"
"Solved it."
"So, what are we doing here, then? I know the morgue's your home away from home, but I haven't stooped to quite that level yet."
"I didn't invite you. You followed," Sherlock replied, popping the bag of Quavers after John had passed them over.
"I thought we were doing something more than trying to digest food."
"Let's go back to the lab."
"You're going to eat there? I thought you didn't have anything to do," John said, standing.
"Nope," Sherlock replied, pouring the rest of his coffee into the cafeteria bin before following the cup.
John didn't know what that response was meant for, the eating question or the anything to do statement, but John followed him back towards the lab. Hopefully, Sherlock would give up whatever childish reason he had for hanging around the hospital and they could go home, catch the marathon of I'm a Celebrity... Get Me Out of Here! without much bother. Knowing Sherlock, though...
Suddenly, a scream broke the silence of the hall to the lab. John instantly went for his gun, forgetting he didn't have it. Sherlock had stiffened, only slightly, at the sound, but there was an array of rarely-used emotion across his face. Something like... panic, perhaps? That couldn't be right.
"Molly?" he shouted, sprinting down the hall.
Of course, it had to be Molly; no one else was working in the lab right now. John hoped that Sherlock had some sort of plan-
"What's happened!" Sherlock demanded, slamming the lab doors open. If John didn't know Sherlock, he really would have said he was panicked.
Molly was standing near the window, extremely red in the face and fanning herself. "Nothing, no, sorry, I didn't- it's-" She took a deep breath, flapping a hand towards the window. "It startled me."
John followed Sherlock curiously to the window. There appeared to be a rather large sort of... grasshopper clinging to the window.
"A grasshopper." Sherlock's tone at John's side was one not of amusement. "That's all?"
Molly, who had been beetroot red, turned impossibly redder. "Yes, I'm sorry, I'm not a fan... Bugs, they're icky, creepy looking..." she trailed off with an embarrassed shudder.
John smiled lightly, amusement lacing his mind. Poor girl. It was a large bug. A bit creepy, yes. Especially from the angle and with the lighting...
"John, we're leaving."
Without another word, Sherlock turned and walked back to the doors.
"Sherlock?" John echoed, as the lab doors swung shut.
"I think I've upset him..." Molly mumbled, wringing her fingers. "I'm just not a fan. Toby, that's my cat, he drags in dead bugs all the time and it's really dreadful, but I don't get used to them..."
John blinked slowly, looking back to her. "Don't worry about it... I daresay that you had him worried for a moment."
"Worried?" Molly asked, looking puzzled. "Why worried?"
"You screamed. Gave us a fright. We thought something was wrong."
"But why would he care?" she asked, frowning.
John smiled condenscendingly. "He's an arrogant sod. But I think he does appreciate you."
"No..."
"You tolerate him. That has to count for something." John left the young woman with that, hurrying after the retreating consulting detective.
It was all a bit of an amusing endeavour, really, considering the stuff we get into. But I don't know. I'm just a blogger and a doctor. Just for one second, though, Sherlock looked like he was panicked. Like he cared.
That can't be right, though. 'Caring' and 'Sherlock' in the same sentence? I must be mad.
I think we all just need a little sleep. The last case has gotten us strung up.
1 comment
Really, John. What a pointless waste of a blog post.
Sherlock Holmes 27 July 13:42
AN: Inspiration? Looked out my window and saw a massive grasshopper thing clinging to the window. Me, being the normally jumpy person I am, mentally spazzed for a half second. xD
I like Molly. I'm playing around with her character now.
Thoughts?