Title: Doctor Molly

Fandom: BBC's Sherlock and BBC's Doctor Who

Characters: Dr. Molly Hooper, Sherlock Holmes, Dr. John Watson, and The Doctor.
Word Count: 1,181
Rating: PG
Warning: Spoilers! Only for 'The Great Game', though.
Disclaimer: Unless I want Weeping Angels and the Crack to follow me (Steven Moffat), umbrella shaped bruises on me (Mark Gatiss), red coats storming my place (BBC), and a Victorian Age dressed zombie chasing me (Sir Author Conan Doyle), I need to say that I own absolutely nothing. The title comes from the fourth series of BBC's 'Doctor Who' (y'know...Doctor Donna!)

A/N: Yeah...I have absolutely no idea why I wrote this...maybe it's because I find Molly Hooper to be the most interesting character on "Sherlock". I don't know. Anyways, I think this is set after Amy and Rory leave (alas...it had to end) and after the stand-off between Moriarty, Sherlock, and John at the pool after 'The Great Game'.

Summary: Molly Hooper suddenly reappears at St. Bart's two weeks after 'The Great Game' with a new friend.

"Molly! Where have you been for the past two weeks?" John exclaims to Dr. Molly Hooper as Sherlock and he enters the morgue. "We were worried about you...we thought Moriarty took you."

Sherlock scoffs at the first idea.

"Holiday, vacation, a mandatory leave...stuff", she tells him, coolly, skimming through her list, then glances at John with a quizzical look, "And has it really been two weeks?"

"Yes, yes it has."

Molly shrugs then goes back to skimming through her list. "What do you want, Sherlock?" she asks him, callously, not bothering to look up at him.

Sherlock loudly sniffs the air and sets his intense, cold gaze upon her. "You've been with a man", he tells her, arrogance dripping from every word.

"Yes", her eyes flicker to him for just a moment then back to her list, "And it appears that you have as well...now are you going to continue with this scurrilous attack on me or are you going to tell me what you want?" she asks him, annoyance edging into her voice.

Sherlock clears his throat and shifts his eyes away from her to the drawers behind her, "I need to see the body of a Mr. Harold Beckett."

"Fine, fine", Molly quietly shuffles through her papers then looks up to smile, artificially, at Sherlock once she found his papers, "Alllright."

"Molly!" a young male voice calls out cheerily behind Sherlock and John, as the morgue door swings closed behind him.

Molly glances over Sherlock's tall frame and responses back, as cheerily as he did, "Doctor!"

A tall, thin man clad in a red bowtie and a brown tweed jacket, and with shaggy brown hair appears next to Sherlock and John, "Are you ready?" he asks her, brightly, rubbing his hands together, like an evil genius.

"Yes", she gives him a real, cheery smile, "I just need to sign Mr. Beckett out to Sherlock, and we can be on our way." Molly hands the clipboard and a ballpoint pen to Sherlock and tells him, in a jaded voice, "Sign here, please."

Sherlock rolls his eyes, grabs the pen and clipboard, swiftly signs his name, and hands it back to her. "I was thinking of the Vif planet", the Doctor says to her, gleefully, as the three men walks with her to Harold Beckett's slot.

Molly giggles, "Ah and what do they have there?" She pulls out Harold and motions to him to Sherlock with her hand. Sherlock's eyes quickly darts around the body in meditation.

"Emerald encrusted frogs that have the loveliest singing voices", the Doctor shoves his hands into his pants pockets as Molly turns to walk away from Sherlock and John with the Doctor.

Molly grins and grabs the Doctor's arm as her eyes brighten when an idea flashes through her head, "We should gather up a bunch of them and create a barbershop quartet!"

"That would be awesome!" the Doctor suddenly becomes corybantic, takes Molly's hand, and swiftly pushes open the door.

"You two are talking complete and utter rubbish", Sherlock oppugns after them in a harsh voice.

The Doctor slowly turns a hard gaze to him and tells him, frostily, "No sir...you are talking complete and utter sense." And, with that, the Doctor and Molly quickly skip down the hallway, their jolly and excited voices echoing back at Sherlock and John.

"Just try to have me back in five minutes...not two weeks later", Molly's teasing voice reverberates.

"Hmph", was all Sherlock and John hears before they turn a corner and they can't hear them anymore.

"Who is he?" Sherlock asks Molly, the next time he shows up at the morgue, about a week later.

"Hm?" Molly asks frivolously. "What was that?" Molly turns her attentions from Gerald Henderson to Sherlock.

Sherlock heaves out a corybantic sigh, "Who was that 'Doctor' you left with last week?"

Molly rolls her eyes and goes back to Mr. Henderson, "What business is it of yours? You're clearly not interested in me...we're not friends—not even colleagues therefore, it's none of your business."

"With the way your last relationship ended, I find it very much my business with your if-only boyfriend turning out to be a criminal mastermind and trying to kill John and me last month", Sherlock oppugns Molly. She doesn't reply, but her grip on the scalpel tightens, only slightly, and she continues to try to focus her attentions on Mr. Henderson instead. "I could figure it out, if you want, but I'd much prefer if you told me. I've always loved a good chuckle because I have a feeling that you're going to give me some bumbling lie to throw me off your trail...so, do tell."

Molly lets out a resigned melancholy sigh. She carefully and slowly places Mr. Henderson's heart back in his chest. Sherlock is intently watching her the whole time, mystified. "He's not my boyfriend, Sherlock...he's my mate", she says quietly, but pointedly.

"Your mate?" That was not what he was expecting.

"Yeah", she tells him slowly and turns to him, "A mate. Otherwise known as a buddy, a pal...a friend. Something that both he and I need at this point."

"And his name is 'Doctor'?"

"'The Doctor' and, yes, people call him that", Molly shrugs. "Now is this all you wanted or is there something else?" Her eyes flickers to the clock behind Sherlock, "I have lots of work to do before The Doctor arrives", she turns her attentions back to Mr. Henderson's heart.

"So...just a friend?"

"Don't act so surprise, Sherlock. I do have a life...I mean, really—I don't know if I should be offended by that question or not."

Sherlock cocks his head at her, in interest, as if she's a new puzzle to be solved, "What's different about you, though? It's, most definitely, the work of your friend."

Molly snaps off her gloves and stands with her arms akimbo, her eyes sharp and determined, "My name is Dr. Molly Hooper—I've fought Weeping Angels, Daleks, and the Satyrs...I am nolonger afraid of you, Sherlock, nor am I afraid of Moriarty. See!" Molly quickly and gently pinches Sherlock's cheek, "I laugh in the face of death—ha, ha, ha!"

Sherlock gives her a bewildered look as she gives him a cheeky smile, "Now—if you'd excuse me"—she says as she gathers up some files and makes her way towards the exit—"there's work to be done."

The next time Sherlock sees the Doctor and Molly, they're frantically running, hand-in-hand, to, what appears to be, a blue police box from the early 1960s. He ducks behind a corner before they can spot him and watches the Doctor and Molly jump into the box. 'They're going to be pretty cramped in there.'

Suddenly, the box starts emitting a wheezing noise, the light on top of the box starts illuminating brightly, and the box starts to dematerialize and, finally, fades away. Sherlock slowly walks out from behind the corner to where the box once stood. He can hear some fantastical, vanishing beeps as he cocks his head towards the sky.

"Hm?"...