Sherlock opened the doors to the laboratory swiftly, striding towards his normal place at which he worked: his countertop with a microscope. He had some slides that he'd gathered from a human liver for an experiment, and he wanted to inspect some rather suspicious and unordinary parts that he'd found inside.
However, he stopped in his tracks when he noticed the familiar, overly-optimistic (but secretly charming) voice of Molly, singing a song in a cutesy voice and playing with something in a rather tacky looking high chair.
Wait… was that a baby?
Okay, stupid question. Of course that was a baby. Why else would there be a high chair and a duffel bag with the word BABY embroidered on it sitting next to her line of untouched slabs? More importantly, however, why was there a baby here? She didn't adopt one randomly, did she? It most definitely wasn't hers- he'd seen her nearly every day in the past nine months, and she hadn't even showed signs of being pregnant, much less had her body taken the shape of a pregnant woman.
"Molly?" He inquired curiously. Molly, who had just now noticed him, turned around and smiled. "Hello, Sherlock!" she said happily, waving one of the baby's hands at him. The child in turn giggled. "Why do you have a baby?" Sherlock asked, his voice containing confusion with an edge of irritation.
"Oh, this is Bradley!" Molly replied, standing up from the rolling chair she'd been sitting on and lifting him up. "Isn't he the sweetest?"
"Hardly," Sherlock mumbled.
"Pardon?" Molly pretended not to hear his remark.
"Nothing," Sherlock replied emotionlessly. "However, you failed to answer my question. Why do you have a baby?"
Molly giggled and replied sarcastically, "Oh, you know, I ordered it online!"
Sherlock blinked. "Is this your attempt at a joke?"
She shook her head and frowned. "I suppose not. I'm… babysitting for my friend Natalie. She, uh, had work."
"So do you," he said pointedly, raising an eyebrow.
"Well, it's unsuitable for her to have a baby where she works," Molly rambled nervously, setting Bradley back down in the chair and wrapping him in a blanket, attempting to make the seat into a makeshift bed. "She works at a factory. They make helicopter parts. It's much too dangerous for a baby to be around machines capable of chopping their head off."
Sherlock nodded slowly, already distracted by his work. He took out a bottle containing a small amount of red liquid, dropped it onto a slide, and began adjusting the stage height of his microscope. After making a few alterations and finding what may have had the potential to be a new element, he set down his clipboard, glancing up at Molly, but then looking again when he noticed the smile on Molly's face. It was larger than it normally was, and it was a genuine smile, yet her eyelids dropped somewhat, which was either a sign of exhaustion or sadness.
"How long did you sleep last night?" Sherlock asked, causing Molly to jump in surprise. "Oh, forgot you were there," she stammered. "W-what was the question?"
"How long did you sleep last night?" he repeated patiently, having gotten used to her jumpiness around him, regardless of the countless times she'd been around him.
"Um…. Six hours, maybe?" Molly replied, though it sounded as though she didn't even believe it.
Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I think you know better than to lie to me by now, Molly. It's really not your strongpoint. It's honestly just a question, it's not like I'll hit you with a whip if you didn't get much."
"No… but…" Molly almost continued to say something, but seemed to think better of it and tucked Bradley in once more, just as he was nodding off, and turned to a bodybag, unzipping it quickly and beginning a dissection.
"But what?" Sherlock pressed, knowing that if he didn't find out what was wrong with her, he'd be making useless deductions about it all day.
Molly sighed quietly, and swiveled around in her chair. "But if I told you I didn't sleep, you would probably ask why." She paused for a second, shook her head and smiled. "I'm sorry, I'm bothering you again. You should probably get back to work." Sherlock huffed when she turned back around and pulled up a chair across from the body she was working on. "As much as I wish I wasn't interested, Molly, I am. Are you going to make me observe it out of you or are you going to tell me so that we can get on with our day?"
Without looking up, she closed her eyes and breathed slowly. "Natalie-" she gestured over to the baby with her head to remind Sherlock of who the baby's mother was- "overdosed on drugs last night. She's in a hospital in Manchester, and she probably won't make it. I guess it's just saddening that the baby won't have a mother." Her eyes got glassy, but she blinked furiously, refusing to cry in front of Sherlock, and also refusing to cry over this situation. "But it's silly to get upset over it," she said, trying too hard to sound happy. "Plenty of people in this hospital are dying right now, and some of them-" she gestured to the body she was dissecting- "are dead. Getting upset won't do any good, and it won't bring them back. Bradley's going to live with his grandparents. He'll be all right, I suppose."
Sherlock analyzed Molly's features. She was telling the truth, but he couldn't quite understand why she was upset. Her problem was that she cared too much for people, and if he hadn't thought better of it, he would have pointed out that this was the exact reason why he tried not to get too emotionally attached or empathetic with people. All love did was cause pain, which was why he attempted to keep the people he cared for to a minimum.
Molly, however, was an exception to his rule. He wasn't sure why, but he knew that she was different to him. She was different in a way that puzzled him- he would never stop and genuinely want to know why somebody was upset unless it was for a case that he needed information for, but for some reason, he felt the urge to help her in any way he could, seeing as to how she was upset for something as kindhearted as this.
He also soon realized why this really affected Molly. This baby was going to live the exact same life she did, except that she had a father growing up. With a heart like hers, she could only imagine what it would be like to lose both parents at a young age. She probably considered herself lucky to have only lost one at a young age, and then her father later on when she could try to deal with the heavy blow.
Sherlock stood up and rounded the corner to Molly's slab. "Don't worry, Molly. He'll be all right," he said, expressing actual kindness, and gave Molly a quick hug, leaving her stunned and staring in disbelief as he walked out of the lab.
Hello again, you guys! Here's the start to my new fanfiction! I believe this one will be 14+ chapters, so please follow if you're interested in the story continuing! PM me if you have any questions or comments at all and it would mean so much if you would leave any feedback you might have! I can't wait to hear from all of you! Have a great day.