Short, sweet, and to a point that you will have to wait to read... Mwahahaha! No, seriously, R&R?
The Detective, The Doctor And… Zombies?
Introduction… Of Sorts…
I, one morning, was simply sitting on my comfy, sorta, stool, and Molly was by my side while I peered through the glass of my microscope and this man came barging through the door, yelling at me about something to do with death?
I couldn't quite make out what he was saying, as I was ignoring the stupid blond and… bloody man. I finally looked to him and snapped, "Stop yelling at me! repeat yourself, slowly," I demanded. He got all flustered and simply clenched his hands into fists.
Then I proceeded to cross my arms over my chest expectantly, as he said something that changed my lovely morning to a Hell I never expected…
I was to be sent home today after working at the hospital I had taken a job at after Afghanistan. I was honorably discharged and, I was at first happy to leave the military once and for all. But then I got home, and I have to say, I miss the excitement.
Not exactly the death, and the blood, and the screams and cries of anguish. But the blood pumping through my own veins, the bullets flying and the feeling as though I myself, am flying past the world and somewhere else doesn't exist at that moment in time. I wish I had that feeling again. Almost like I could die any second, and for some reason, I enjoy that.
But, I was coming home from work, hailed a cab and everything, and that wish came true in the worst of ways…
Molly stood by Sherlock's side early that Monday morning, blowing off everything else to be by that side of his. She adored him, little did he care. He knew, but he didn't care enough to let her know he did. She knew he only thought of her as a friend, or possibly less...
She was crushed for that fact, then again, he was a good friend himself. She had more than once vented out on him, and he always listens. He doesn't always reply, but she can tell he's listening when he looks to her with some kind of look she always understands somehow.
So she let out a bored sigh as she handed him things she knew he'd need. She always knew what he wanted before he even said it, or gestured for it. And today was no different when she handed him a few slides and gloves and such.
He never broke his gaze as he took things from her and only once gave a tight smile that was half assed. She flattened her lips in realization that this will never change, but she didn't mind. Then again, she was very wrong about that assumption. But you know what they say about assuming… the word is literally spelled to say Ass, U, Me, as in, assume something and it makes you both look like fucking idiots.
Then this man burst through the two doors, caked in blood that obviously only ten percent of was his. Sherlock at first ignored him, and Molly was surprised he did so. But then the blond was yelling at him, and he finally looked up, irritated.
Molly hated that look on him, it made him look like he was woken from sleep, and not in a good way. But that day, everything changed…
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