I don't own anything. It is all Doyle's and then moffat's. I hope you like this. I was getting tired of Molly's portrayal as a spineless admirer, hence the fanfic. Please read and review!
Something snapped inside her that day, she was disillusioned, completely. It hurt, hurt like hell, but later, she was glad it happened. She never would have let go otherwise. In retrospection, she was ashamed that she, a brilliant pathologist, drooled over a pretty face, o.k maybe not just a pretty face, but she had to be honest with herself – if the consulting detective had looked like some average person with a paunch, she wouldn't even have looked at him twice. That Christmas Party speech made things crystal clear for her, the detective was all mind and no heart (and definitely no hormones). So, that night when she got home, she shook herself, gave herself a pep talk and forgave all past mistakes – "you can't stay angry with yourself forever" was what she told herself and "Hell, it's not like I did anything illegal." She decided things were going to be different from next day. How different? Sherlock-gets-ticked off different.
As usual, Sherlock walked in like he owned the place. The samples he requested ( demanded) were already there and he got to working. He was engrossed with the slides and suddenly realized that he needed slides from the 'Speckled Blonde' case (Damn John for that name!) for reference. So he did what he usually does – said "Slides from Speckled Blonde case Molly" without raising his head and went back to his work. It didn't occur to him until an hour later that the requested/demanded slides weren't still there so said, "Molly!" again. Maybe she isn't here, he thought and looked up to find that, that was in fact the matter.
He was mildly irritated but before he could stand up to find the slides himself, Molly strode in with a stack of files.
"Oh, here you are, slides from the blonde murder Molly, and be quick about it."
"..."
"Molly ?" He looked up to find her engrossed in a file, with ear phones plugged in to her ears.
"MOLLY!"
"What the - ! Oh Sherlock, sorry, did you say something?" she said in her usual small voice.
"The slides from the blonde murder."
"Yes?"
"I want them."
"You know what to do to get them."
"Yes, that's why I'm asking you!", he said with irritation slowly becoming obvious in his voice.
"Oh, no. I can't do anything about it. You have to get a request letter signed by the detective inspector and submit it at the evidence section and they'll process it according to the level of urgency. I thought you knew that."
Sherlock was losing his patience with every word she spoke and the I-thought-you-knew was the last straw - he burst out saying, "WHAT ?! Don't be absurd! Just go and get the slides like you always do, will you ?! Don't waste my time with your feigned ignorance!"
"It used to be as simple as asking and getting because I accepted Lestrade's request to do your paperwork for you. But I have relieved myself of all my unofficial duties, sorry."
Sherlock would've said more but the case was too urgent and he ran out to get the process done as quickly as possible. Molly let out a sigh of relief – she was on cloud nine! She talked to Sherlock for an entire minute and neither stammered nor blushed.
She got back to her work in an elevated state of mind. The music and her new found self esteem helped her to finish an amazing number of files. She was engrossed in a Petri dish when for the second time that day, she was yanked from her work and music by an angry voice. This time, she knew the situation would be a lot more hostile (Sherlock would've solved the case and would have all the time in the word to argue with her). So, She just took a deep breath, steeled herself and said in as impressive a tone as her small voice could muster, "Yes, Sherlock ?"
"This is you getting your revenge, isn't it?! OH! I knew you were silly, meek , predictable and colourless but PETTINESS, THAT I NEVER, expected! You know that you deserved every word you got from me on Christmas day – What else did you expect, with your IMMATURE behavior ?!"
" I know I brought it on myself, my immature behavior and your ruthless deduction– we're square now. I don't see why I should do you any favors, I mean, I repented already, didn't I, by having to listen to your DRIVEL on Christmas day?", said Molly in so calm a voice that she stunned herself and enraged an already ticked off Sherlock.
"Do you expect me to run around getting request letterssigned when I should be solving cases?," he continued in a dangerous voice, "Don't get smart with me Hooper, I could get you transferred to some remote country hospital where the only corpse you'll ever see is that of an old woman who died of sheer BOREDOM!"
"Do that, please. I'd take that corpse any day, over a living dummy that sprouts nonsense and doesn't let me work in peace. And just in case you didn't get it – YOU'RE the dummy that I'm talking about." And with that she sat down on her stool, plugged her ears again, selected a song on her playlist and went back to her Petri dish as if the whole shouting match with Sherlock didn't even happen.
Sherlock stood there, stunned, enraged and for the first time in his life, at a loss for words. He just stood there glaring at Molly, but at the same time, analyzing the situation in his mind. None of the other pathologists work well with him, not even Mike. He could get her transferred but there's no saying the replacement won't rebel the way Molly just did, and last but not the least, He COULD NOT waste his precious time getting request letters signed. The solution didn't take long in coming to his sharp mind, it's just that he didn't like the solution. Nevertheless, he steeled himself. The next thing he did took Supreme effort.
He adjusted his facial features (Oh, he was good at that) took a deep breath and tapped Molly on her shoulder.
She looked up from her work, and took out her ear phones.
"Molly, I'm truly sorry for all that juvenile display. It's just that time is of the essence when dealing with serious crimes and I became a bit restless. Even then, I shouldn't have yelled at you like that. Molly, I know that you are a busy person but it would be a huge help for me, if you could handle my paperwork. But if you are pressed for time, I can understand if you say no."
Molly just sat there with a growing smirk on her face. She didn't need the detective's skills to understand that Sherlock was struggling to finish his speech – his rigid jaw and tight voice, were making it prettyobvious. So, she took pity on him and said,
"Well, now that you've put it like that, I think it would be a mistake not to help you. I'll do your paperwork for you as far as I can."
Sherlock just nodded and walked out muttering to himself, "Sherlock, sometimes you're too bloody smart for your own good."
Molly was not disappointed that she was back to doing Sherlock's paperwork. She knew that he'll be more careful now. She proved a point, She, Molly Hooper has a spine and a damned good one at that!