A/N: I'm glad that you're enjoying this so far! I'm having fun writing it!

Chapter Two. So Much More Than Friends.

When the cab pulled up to Bart's, Molly was exhausted.

Sherlock had texted her when she had been on a high (adrenaline rushing, blood pumping)... but the moment she'd stepped into the car she felt herself crash. Trying to keep up with a bunch of party girls would tend to do that, though, and Molly was sure after all that dancing she'd be feeling the worse of it in the morning.

The girls had been sad to see her go so soon, but in their drunken stupor, she doubted they'd even remember she'd left for much longer. At the back of her mind, she made a mental note to make sure to text them all later to be sure they got home ok. It was always better to be safe than sorry, after all. Going out was all fun and good, but she also knew the dangers of it. Women had to look out for one another, and while they had been a bit short on their end of that stick, Molly knew they were good people.

Making it to the morgue at a sluggish pace, she was grateful that she at least hadn't drunk much. She wouldn't be any good to the detective and war doctor if she was pissed, and she wouldn't in a million years want to be standing in front of Sherlock Holmes in any state of drunkenness. She was most certainly a lightweight and turned very silly and very honest when she'd had too much. Her tendency to say more than she should grew the more alcohol she passed through her system and she knew the things she'd tell Sherlock if she were drunk with no filter…

Just thinking about it was mortifying.

Cringing at the thought, Molly opened the door to the morgue and frowned at what she found behind it. Sherlock sat straddled atop of the John Doe they'd gotten in early that morning, pretending to stab it with a scalpel while John looked on tiredly. She paused a minute by the door, lips pursed with an unspoken question as she took in the sight before her. She'd seen many strange things from the consulting detective over the years, but he never ceased to surprise.

"Ah, good, you're finally here," Sherlock hummed in his deep baritone, not bothering to look up. The wheels in his mind turning as he analyzed the body underneath him. "Took your time, didn't you?"

"Hey Molly," John cut in with a nod and a small smile, greeting her properly for the both of them, as he rolled his eyes and leaned against one of the counters. He looked exhausted, and Molly wondered if it was because of Sherlock or the baby.

...Probably both.

She smiled as she readjusted to the oddity of the situation and stepped further into the room, closing the door behind her. "Hey."

"Yes, yes, hello, hello," the detective dismissed impatiently, leaning down to examine the nasty stab wound in their John Doe's chest. The Pathologist's eyes roamed over the body herself as she stepped closer in slight curiosity, having not actually been the one to do his autopsy it was her first time laying proper eyes on it.

It had been assumed that his death was the cause of a mugging gone wrong, so they'd had her working on something a little more high profile for the day. She assumed, however, that her noninvolvement was about to change considering the detective's presence. And she also assumed, due to the lack of attendance of her coworker who was actually on this case, Sherlock had probably sent him away after he'd let the two in. The poor chap didn't like working with the consulting detective anyway and the feeling seemed pretty much mutual.

"Out, were you?" John asked, snapping her from her thoughts as he took in her appearance. "You look nice."

Realizing what she was still wearing, Molly shuffled a bit embarrassedly. "Yes, thank you."

"Didn't interrupt a date or anything, did we?" He teased, grinning.

She flushed, "N-no-"

"Girl's night out," Sherlock answered for her, his eyes flashing her way for a moment, and she stared at him in surprise. "Borrowed makeup on her face, same clothes from earlier just... altered, and the distinct smell of club. Judging by how tired she looks and the fact that her feet seem to be aching, I doubt she would have stayed much longer anyway."

John frowned at him, tutting. "Enough of that."

"The girls from work wanted to go out, is all," she clarified and then cleared her throat. "So what is it you wanted?" She was sure she already knew the answer, but it didn't hurt to ask.

"Re-evaluation of the body," Sherlock explained, hopping off the corpse with a flutter of his belstaff. "This was no mugging. This man was targeted for something more than just loose change."

Moving to fetch her lab coat, Molly eyed him curiously, "What did you find?"

"His wallet was taken but tossed in a bin a few streets over. ID and credit cards were taken, but they left the money. So obviously it wasn't the true purpose of the confrontation," he answered, pacing around the body, hands clasped behind his back.

Molly raised a brow and looked to John, "He wasn't bored enough to go digging through bins hoping for a case again, was he?"

John chuckled, "Not this time. His irregulars tipped him off."

"Ah," she nodded.

Sherlock cleared his throat to regain their attention. "So what then? What were they after?" He asked, letting the question fall flat for dramatic effect. "...I believe it was information."

"Yeah?" The war doctor questioned, appeasing his friend's need for theatrics.

"Upon further deduction, it seems that the weapon used to kill this man wasn't inflicted with a meer quick thrust, it was plunged in and held there. Twisted just enough to cause more pain, but not kill him before he could tell them what his attacker wanted to know." Pausing, Sherlock motioned her over to stand beside him and pointed down toward the wound. "Tell me, what do you make of that?"

Leaning in, Molly took a good look down into the wound. At first she saw nothing, but eventually, her eyes came into focus on something deep within the wound. She inhaled sharply, moving in closer for a better look. It had been assumed that the wound had been caused by a knife, but it was hard to distinguish exactly what kind. However what Sherlock had found completely ruled that theory out. Deep in the wound, just out of view, it looked to be a piece of the weapon that had been missed in the autopsy… and whatever it was, it wasn't a knife, or at the very least not your traditional kind. "What is that…?"

John frowned, "What is what?"

Sherlock ignored the question, grabbing a pair of tweezers from a tray near the body. "Shall we find out?"

Molly smiled and nodded, her fatigue momentarily forgotten.

In the hours that followed this discovery, Molly and Sherlock quickly came to the conclusion that their John Doe hadn't been stabbed with a blade at all. Or at the very least, not one made of metal, and it was a realization that had them pouring over every possible solution that they could think of.

They tried many tests to try and determine the origins of the piece, but ultimately all their attempts came up short.

If Molly had been exhausted hours before, at four in the morning she now felt like the living dead. Leaning over a sample of their find, she could barely keep her eyes from crossing. And so, sitting up, she yawned and cast a jealous glance over at John who'd passed out on the counter two hours ago.

While, at the first discovery of their mystery substance, Molly's excitement at solving a piece of the puzzle had drowned out her body's complaint for sleep… she now found it very hard not to comply with her body's wishes.

Sighing, she glanced over at Sherlock as he continued to ponder over a microscope in the same position he'd been in an hour ago. She knew that he was probably just as tired as she was, if not more, but it always amazed her at how long he could keep his composure. She was sure it was all willpower. He was more than stubborn enough, after all.

Rolling her shoulder back, Molly stretched her aching spine before sliding a hand into the pocket of her lab coat. For the billionth time since she'd entered the morgue, the pathologist felt her fingers brush against the cold surface of her cell phone. A small smile curled her lips as her hand wrapped around the object and pulled it out, her mind already going back to a few hours ago when she'd met the stranger who'd been bold enough to put his number in her phone.

Zane Quincy.

It felt like it had been a dream, but the name in her phone reminded her otherwise. And as much at it made her smile, it also frightened her.

He'd told her to call him, but surely he didn't mean it. Not really. In fact, she wouldn't have been surprised if he had come up to her on a dare or the like… For all she knew, the number in her phone could have been very much fake… But he didn't seem like the type to be so cruel… especially after he'd gone out of his way to help her.

It was just that her mind couldn't help but make excuses. She had always had low self-esteem, and never through lack of trying to correct it. Which was why she was rolling her phone around in her hand, trying to think up reasons why not to contact Zane instead of thinking of when she should.

"Shall I save you from hours more of indecision?" Sherlock's voice interjected, pushing away her self-contemplation.

"Hm?" She blinked, pocketing her phone and looking over at him. Despite his words being directed at her, his attention was still on his task.

Nodding to the phone in her pocket with his chin, he explained, "You won't call him. The fact that you have yet to make up your mind should tell you something."

Molly frowned at this, "I-"

"However, it is likely for the best," he cut in before she could object.

And though she should have known better, she urged him to continue with a "How so?"

He shifted slightly, before continuing, "Things like these rarely work out… and honestly meeting a man from a nightclub is a bit…" He made a face into the microscope, hand waving dismissively.

"A bit what?" she snapped, sounding a bit harsher than she meant to.

He furrowed his eyebrows at this and turned to look in her direction. He seemed to realize he'd struck a nerve, but he could never stop himself from getting his opinion out once he'd started. "I only mean, he could end up to be as much of a disaster as... meat dagger."

"No. He won't." She ground out lightly, her anger spiking. Whether it was the mention of Tom or the lack of sleep she wasn't sure, but she doubted either thing was helping the situation.

"How could you be so sure? You've only met the man once." Sherlock leaned back in his seat and scoffed lightly.

"And how could you be so sure? You haven't met him at all!" She huffed, tossing the file in her hand down.

She could tell by the look on his face that he only seemed to be trying to help her, but he should have known better. Any time that he mentioned anything about her love life Molly had been getting increasingly angrier at him. She blamed this bitterness on many things… lack of sleep… skipping breakfast… but everyone knew why.

Molly had broken off her engagement with Tom ages ago… because of the very man sitting in that room only a few feet away from her. Because she couldn't help but think about him. It hadn't been because she'd thought Sherlock would come running to her, or that she had any chance in pursuing him… but… the fact that she was still in love with him played a very key factor in why she still had yet to find anyone new.

And it didn't help that all her other relationships had been… less than ideal. Hell, Tom and Jim aside, even before she met Sherlock Molly had never been every good at having a good and lasting relationship. If any relationship at all. But having Sherlock butt in every time she had a chance to try again made it all the more difficult for her.

While yes, they had grown a closer friendship with each other after everything they'd been through, and Molly knew that he was only looking out for her in his Sherlock way…. But having him give his opinion on every potential boyfriend was not helping her as much as he likely thought it did. Boundaries were long past due of needing to be set between them, but that said…

Molly didn't have the heart to.

As much as she didn't want to admit it. Every time Sherlock showed interest in her personal life, Molly's heart fluttered. As much as it made her angry, it also touched her. She was someone who was special to him. He had both told her that and showed her in the small things he did… but as much as that warmed her heart, it made her angrier all the same. Perhaps not so much at him, but at herself… because while she loved that she was special to Sherlock… she could never be the kind of special that she had always wanted to be… and that still hurt her. They were friends, yes… but there would likely always be a part of her that wanted to be so much more. This, however, was her burden to bare… not his.

In truth, her feelings were a mess, as always… and to be honest staying up any longer probably wasn't going to help things.

"I'm going home," Molly said suddenly, deciding it was time to leave as she stood, sounding a little defeated. She could feel Sherlock's calculating eyes roam over her when she said this, but she refused to meet his gaze.

Pulling off her lab coat, she walked over to hang it and added, "The morning shift will be in soon if you need anything." She still refused to look at him, as she headed over to the door.

"Molly…" Her hand paused at the handle as he called her name. For some reason the way he said it left a lump in her stomach and the pause that came after felt heavy. She kept her eyes trained on the door, not feeling confident enough to look back at him. He sighed, and once the silence felt too long he added, "Sleep well."

It felt like he might have wanted to say something else, but she didn't dare push it. She was always hoping for more from him and finding her expectations fall short. It needed to stop. Instead, she nodded. "You should try to get some too. I know you don't usually sleep much on a case, but even the great Sherlock Holmes needs to recharge his batteries every now and then."

She smiled, even though he couldn't see it, and then she opened the door and left.

A/N: Sherlock is so hard to write. Ahhhhh. I hope I did him some justice! There was a little bit of some Sherolly in there, right? If you squint? Haha. More Zane in the next chapter, methinks. Hope you enjoyed it!