A/N: This is terrible, but my tweaking has got to end at some point.

Chapter Two

"Do you hear voices on a regular basis?" She gave to laughing, but his brown eyes only darted down to the questionnaire, his pen point placed precariously on the papers.

Sitting in a low swivel chair before him she cleared her throat, "…No?"

Dave began to scribble furiously on the papers, pen sliding with ease on the sheets, as his brows steadily became one intimidating scowl. It's like he expected she had several voices already in her head. She wasn't mad! She was just… hearing things. 'Things' meaning Sherlock Holmes, specifically.

Usually a cool lab room environment made her feel calm, though the sounds of the white rats running around in their wheels made her feel skittish at best.

"You've never ever heard a voice?" said Dave clearly not convinced.

"Dave..." said Meena in a no-nonsense voice, eyes narrowed as she put aside some of Molly's blood samples into a cooler. "That's not what we agreed to." Molly personally wished she had her own personal armour (read: her lab coat) on as well, for then maybe Dave wouldn't be pondering about her psyche as much as he was. They were equals after all.

Dave only bristled in return, "It's a legitimate question Meena - come on - - - also - are you hearing voices right now?" He looked yet again at her expectantly while Meena rolled her eyes in the background.

Molly would have doubted anyone who claimed such a dream concept herself. No one in their right mind claimed they heard voices and was a sane individual at the same time. The fact that Sherlock could apparently hear her as well was something she really didn't feel like admitting, despite the scientific necessity of it, especially when she wasn't completely sure if it had actually happened (though it really did seem like it). He wasn't even on the pills after all, she was on the pills, and the pills were only supposed to affect her. How could they have affected him? It was impossible. She might just be imagining it; maybe she'd really just properly lost it, which seemed like a much easier alternative to cope with. If that was the case she could just quit said pills and move on. They'd just have to drum up a new proto-type that didn't make the tester momentarily insane. Saying out loud that Sherlock could hear her as well would result in more blood tests (certainly), besides Dave's sceptic facial expressions, and her most likely being locked up (scratch possibly, definitely more like) for some time (a long time if she were honest).

The fact that she hadn't seen head nor hair of the consulting detective for days made her feel like withdrawing everything she'd previously said, especially if it made the pair of them stop prodding her. She wasn't even sure she'd hear him again after all. Molly scratched her head and cleared her throat trying to drum up an actual answer to his question, though clearly it was yes, she really began to look back on her childhood with some mild hesitation. She'd had an invisible friend, though she hadn't really heard him when she was a child. Then again, there was one option that loomed in the background in the shape of a dated old book from the 1920's that Meena had brought to her attention after she'd told of her experience.

The book was about soulmates.

The one thing she'd always thought was some conniving political trick to subdue everyone into believing there was a meaning to everything. Her instant reaction hadn't been a happy one, feeling the pit of her stomach squirm and her skin crawl, as she could almost hear Sherlock in her head scoffing at the sheer idea. Soulmates! God no! The book that Meena had showed wasn't about this supposed 'pure love', but more about humans and their apparent wordless communication with 'wolf dogs' (she couldn't help bursting into laughter). She was soon directed to a more recent article in the New Scientist about the probability of soul mates in Alpha and Omegas, but there were no other confirmed incidents in humans. All of it was just a hypothesis. None of it made her feel poised enough to bring it up without feeling like a prize-idiot, as she could pre-emptively hear Sherlock enunciate his distaste over the entire concept, both externally and internally. It all felt fanciful despite the handful of rats in the laboratory who apparently seemed to silently communicate, then again, they weren't famed for their speech patterns, but she felt a bit cheered to see all of them separated and going through various challenges that were supposed to be done together - yet successfully. Maybe there was some truth in the matter after all, but…

Would he...

Would he want to try the pills?

Not that she'd asked whether or not they had created pills for Alpha's as well. The research in that department was always more limited, as it seemed that Omega's were the ones who had to hold back their urges (illogical as that is). If it was right this meant they were biologically compatible in every way, mentally - bodily - it was a lot to take in, but would he still want her as a person throwing aside all of that? She wasn't even sure if she wanted him; then again, right at the moment she was still rather angry with him.

Yes, he'd had vulgar thoughts, but he was startled by her change of medicine so maybe he had just been more affected by her biology - -

"Miss Hooper? Molly?"

She ignored that he didn't call her a Doctor, though felt a wave of annoyance hit her nonetheless. Despite being a guinea pig she wasn't entirely ignorant about the subject matter, especially when she herself had dealt and tested herself most of her adult life.

Dave's ginger beard and glasses came into view again, as he raised a brow at her before jotting something down. "...Sorry," she said with a small smile, soon biting her lip as she clenched her fists. "Drifted off a bit there."

"It's not another side effect...She's just got a lot of things on her mind-," said Meena in her defence.

"Besides voices?" said Dave who settled his pen into his chest pocket, soon returning to his computer, clearly writing her answers into their progress report, light from the screen illuminating his frames.

"Dave! For God's sakes! She's as sane as you and me! She was terrified when she could hear him - - so could you stop acting like a prick, and let me tell her about her test results instead?"

They'd been postponing the results for a while, which she couldn't pretend hadn't made her more nervous than necessary. But she supposed they would have brought them up immediately if there was anything to really worry about.

"I'm not stopping you-," he grumbled in return, while Meena jerked her disgruntled head to the glass doors, the pair of them soon walking out of the otherwise quiet lab, leaving Dave with the rats.

"He's been prissy because his test-subject hasn't had the same success," said Meena when they'd gotten to the canteen, the pair of them sitting by one of the sterile looking white tables echoing the lair of a James Bond villain. The company Meena worked for was rather posh and high up after all, despite the small team regarding the project, though few believed in it, they were given a vast amount of money to work with. "He's happy it's working, but whatever we've discovered here could be huge-," Meena grinned at that, laughing a bit while Molly smiled uneasily.

"And?" began Molly who was a bit too eager to hear whatever was going on in her blood or head, so rushing the rest of the conversation felt rather compulsory.

Meena caught on, "You're - fine. Your blood results don't suggest anything wrong at all; neither does the scan of your brain. All in order - but -," here her friend paused, all smiles. "You're not sending out any of the usual hormones... The ones urging the usual Alpha to come hither, more or less, which you know tends to get out, even a little."

"But Sherlock could still-," she faltered for a bit wondering if this was the perfect time to tell Meena of the newest development, but she stopped herself - " - Smell me, you know." If they did indeed have a connection of some kind, mental and physical, then it wasn't surprising he did. Yet she could hear a little voice in the back of her head moaning - 'it's not fair!'

"...Are you worried about this? - Because you've always wanted to know what's going on in that thick skull of his, and now's your chance."

She tried smiling, but it didn't last - since if Sherlock could do the same it wasn't exactly an advantage. "You've still got that dinner party to go to, don't you?" said Meena encouragingly. Molly had almost forgotten about her invitation the Watson's. "It would be really good for the research if you did go, you know, just to check whether or not something's changed. Might have been just a one-off after all?"

Nodding in return, she tried not to think too much... Maybe she could manage to keep that up in case he showed up as well.


Day 7: 19:15

How do you tell someone that you're apparently soulmates and can hear each other's thoughts? Okay, the last bit he'll know...Will he though? Maybe I'm just imagining things and he didn't actually hear what I thought? Maybe I just think he could hear me? Somehow that sounds madder than me hearing him...The alpha hasn't been in the lab since, which isn't very surprising.

I haven't mentioned the possibility of him hearing me yet either to anyone. Must be the 'soul link'. Oh god. That sounds mental!

Reading her rather cramped calendar didn't bolster her whatsoever. Remember! Dinner at John and Mary's! The hand that had written it on the calendar with a little smiley afterwards, had been blissfully ignorant of the future predicament. She'd only been worried whether or not it would work alongside her early shift the next day, trying to work things around, until she just had to accept leaving earlier than the rest. Now she had so much else to think about, then again, chances of Sherlock actually being there were technically nil. 'A social occasion with friends that didn't throw him into the spotlight' wasn't one he'd graciously attend without John forcing his hand. And a simple dinner party too? Not a chance. Then again he might appear to test the waters, as she wanted to.

She'd debated prior to this if she was going to go - because she liked having a full night's sleep, but now she had to for science. Whether or not she could hear him was important, and even more so whether or not he could hear her. If he didn't show up, she could just excuse herself off early, as that wasn't utterly rude either. She still took ages getting to their place, debating whether or not it was a good idea, as everyone else might be subject to their study. Yet she knew there was no turning back when she got into the tube. Maybe she wouldn't even hear him? That's what she repeated to herself when the panic started to surface again.

Molly had considered that hopeful thought a bit too much, despite the revolutionary scientific aspect of it all (especially since Meena was pestering her to even jot when she had loo-visits as well). Whatever it was could have been a really odd fluke really, like Meena had said, and she comforted herself with that idea when she stood outside the Watsons' Tesco's bag with a bottle of wine in her hand. She'd barely managed to steel herself when the door sprang open and revealed a happy looking Mary. "Molly!" she said giving her a quick peck on the cheek. "Good to see you're here - - thought you might not come having an early shift and all."

"I changed my mind," she said with a bright smile, listening a bit too intently to her surroundings, catching only low voices, and the sound of traffic behind her. There was no familiar baritone voice, outside or inside her head. He wasn't there! He'd be loud and obvious; oh he would, wouldn't he? Her shoulders relaxed at that, Mary looking at her oddly for a sec, while she relieved herself of her coat, her smile becoming slowly genuine while she hung up her coat.

He's probably not even here...

He's probably home…sulking.

Mary guided her inside to the table, while she giggled to herself.

"What's so funny?"

"Oh no, no, I just thought of something from work today-," she said with a toothy smile. She was relieved when Mary didn't press for details, only smiling to her in return as the pair of them went into the living room. John waved at her from sitting besides Greg on the sofa, the pair of them in a deep conversation of some kind, while - - she froze, struck in absolute silence, her grin evaporating like she'd been dunked in cold water. There he was, cool as a cucumber, sat in one of the comfy cushiony chairs, smirking at her.

Oh my god…

"The food is done in a minute or two," said Mary who began to walk off. "Wine is on the table though, Molly – so help yourself."

Oh no. Oh God no.

She stood uncertain about what to do, her eyes flickering between the wine and him, hankering for the former all of a sudden. Molly hurried to the table, shakily grabbing a glass and pouring a generous amount into it, earning her John raising his brows. She didn't mind. He could think she was mad, because right now she was listening and pouring, very carefully for that matter.

She could hear the ticking of the clock on the bookshelf.

She could hear the low volume of a children's program on a telly in the background, on for Louisa.

She could hear the sound of boiling water, and of a pan sizzling, but not him.

She took a large gulp of her wine, catching his eye and – "Molly," he said out loud, the corners of his mouth poking upwards. The smirk was unwavering, fixed on his handsome face, like he knew what she was thinking... Technically he did, or did he? She didn't know what to think anymore. Maybe she'd just imagined it? Maybe it had just been some mad moment for her all in all?

"Hello," she said sitting down with the others, ready to join in on whatever conversation the others were having, keen on not looking his way whatsoever. Seconds ticked on, John and Greg's conversation continued without any sombre interruption, neither her nor Sherlock said anything, nor thought anything; she couldn't help but muse over, almost laughing of herself.

It was a one-off! she thought, triumphantly.

"So Molly – Mary said you'd started on these new set of pills?" said Greg drawing her into the conversation, her nerves uncoiling themselves, as she keenly leaned forward in her chair.

"Hope that's okay!" she heard Mary shouting from the kitchen, making her smile to herself.

"Oh, right," said Greg looking a bit flustered, eyes directed at the other two around the coffee table, John looking bewildered while Sherlock looked rather disinterested (thank god). "If you don't want to talk about it. We don't have to."

"It's alright," she said with a tentative smile. "There's not really been a problem with the pills? ...Though it started off a bit wrong if I'm honest. Side-effects tend to happen when they're this new."

"Hopefully they won't happen again," said Greg sympathetically.

"At least you seem alright," said John who rather indiscreetly glanced at Sherlock like neither of them were able to pick up on that clue.

She received what she expected, nods of understanding and mild confusion. People, who weren't in the loop, didn't often know how to tackle the topic, besides generously asking a question once in a while. Molly couldn't help note that the majority of Sherlock's friends (if he'd call them that) were all beta - with the exception of herself. Why? She couldn't help but wonder if he did that intentionally to avoid possible entanglements, then again, he did pride himself of being an emotionless machine (however, not true that was).

I'll say.

"What?" she said, whipping her head towards Sherlock who sat rather more stiffly in his chair, though still looking calmer than her with her bulging eyes. "Umm-," she turned to look at John and Greg who looked un-phased, the pair of them furrowing their brows in unison, and she knew she'd heard that. Had she? ...Really? "Sorry, thought, umm, you said something."

I did...

She looked at him, as he tilted his head, smirk extending his mouth. Yes, for God's sake you can hear me! Your thoughts aren't yours anymore, Molly, though I tried my best to keep mine under wraps. At least I manage that - unlike you.

"Hey!" she snapped, immediately clearing her throat, as the others blinked at her. She stared down at the glass in her hand, aware that wasn't helpful whatsoever, but not knowing what to do, or think.

Try to be subtle. Would you?

"Umm, how did it start wrong?" said John, eyebrows connected, and clearly thinking her outbursts were symptoms.

"Just, umm, pain in my head-," she said stumbling in her words.

Yes, no need to let him diagnose this exactly.

She at least frowned convincingly enough apparently, since the two men just nodded in return.

"- Like this constant droning on and on in my head," she finished off, emptying her glass as well, relishing a glance at Sherlock's dour face.

Very mature...

Shut up!

You're the one transmitting every single thought. Not ME.

This isn't supposed to be happening. We're not supposed to hear each other, Sherlock! I don't know how to stop this.

Easy. Drop the pills.

"Oh? ...Kinda like Sherlock then? Could you try to be a bit social? You've been quiet since Molly's gotten here," said John looking aggravated at best.

No. I feel normal!

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "I have my reasons," he said getting to his feet, beginning to pace behind her. "Lots to think about."

THIS is normal to you?!

"You've got a case?" asked Greg instantly lighting up, looking towards John for more information.

You don't drive me mad for once.

"No," said Sherlock with a sigh.

I can and will, if you let this go on.

We'll see about that.

"Yeah, he's been turning down cases lately," said John.

"Oh? Really?" said Greg.

Yes, we will.

"Dinner's done," Mary cried out, and Molly was first to get to her feet, regretting it a little when the wine rushed to her head, but she still had her faculties.

Don't drink too much.

Don't be an arse. It took the chatter to die out for her to realise she'd said that bit out loud. " - - - Umm, sorry-," she said with a rushed giggle, picking up the wine bottle off the coffee table to everyone else's amazed looks, minus Sherlock. She headed off to the dining table, followed by the others, while Sherlock lagged behind, looking thoughtful.

I can do, as I like.

"You're not exactly wrong, you know," Greg joined in, in support, jerking his head in the direction of Sherlock who raised a brow.

She laughed.

Typical.

He sat down on the other available seat - right besides her, but she was not going to look at him. She was not going to look into his direction at all. Oh for God's sake! It's not like I've not done my research - - you decided to be a test bunny for your friend? Fantastic! Give up the pill immediately!

No.

Why not?

Because no.

"Long day, Molly?" asked John noticing her frown.

Because 'no'?

She gave a tight smile, "Just a bit thirsty," she said with a shrug of her shoulders, poring more wine into her glass, soon distributing the contents generously to the others who all eyed her, included Mary who was laying down the food on the table. Molly knew she couldn't keep the little bit of information she had stored in her head away from him, and she didn't see the point of trying to do so even if she found the whole concept fantastical at best.

We're soul mates apparently...

WHAT

"Right," said John looking puzzled, his eyes flickering between her and Sherlock. "So - Greg - I saw you in the paper recently-,"

He obviously thought it was because of Sherlock.

He really wasn't wrong.

What do you mean we're soul mates - are you serious?

No, I thought it would be funny. Ha - ha. We're meant to be - pass me the wine bottle if you please. I'd like to get pissed.

It scares me that I know you're not lying.

What do you mean?

This is rather practical, though you've got to learn to school your expression. You might as well be wearing a microphone by the way your face is showing off every emotion.

I don't want this to continue, Sherlock!

Neither do I, but we can make the best of it. I suggested stopping the pills after all. You're the stubborn one.

As long as YOU don't think dirty thoughts we'll be fine.

I don't have dirty thoughts.

Yes, you do.

How long have you been hearing ME, then?

Whenever you've been around the last seven days...

Oh goodie.

Really?

No.

You've taken suppressors? Haven't you?

They sat around the table, her gingerly sipping her wine and pretending to be listening attentively to Greg's story about the one-legged thief. Unfortunately not managing to interject whatsoever.

Does it matter?

You're not talking about my vagina, so yes.

Should I be?

Stop pretending you haven't. I heard you.

Her hand accidentally touched his thigh and she was surprised to find - - Sherlock? - - His eyes widened slightly, before she gently drew back her hand.

I couldn't hear you. Fascinating.

That's weird.

As opposed to hearing me...? But clearly touching me helps. I suggest you do it again. And stop thinking it's dirty.

I'm not.

I can feel it.

Stop finding it funny, then!

What? What?

She could feel Sherlock's confusion, even more so when he seemed feel hers as well, the pair of them glancing at each other, while she tried to eat her food, and his fork kept hovering by his mouth.

Besides thoughts... We can feel - -

And that's when she felt rather frustrated, like a coiled spring ready to be flung across the room, the sort of heated urgency, the annoyance underneath the -

Are you horny?

No.

Sherlock, stop that!

I'm testing the parameters of our union.

This isn't a union! - - You can test it without thinking dirty thoughts.

It's currently the strongest emotion.

What's the second strongest emotion? Use that one instead!

"Molly - anything good come in at St Bart's recently?" asked Greg shuffling some broccoli into his mouth, looking at her with earnest curiosity.

Jealousy.

She stared at Sherlock, gaping slightly, before she whipped her head back to the direction of Greg who looked puzzled. "No, not really."

Are you actually jealous? Of Greg?

Jealousy is hardly a rational emotion, Molly. No need to be surprised. Lestrade has been hankering after you for years and you've been mildly attracted to him -

No, I've not.

I can smell you. You hardly conceal any of it.

I fancied Mike Stamford once.

Is that supposed to make me feel better?

During my heat I've got not filter.

While my daily life is imagining what I could do to - OH GOD.

I suppose your suppressors are fading.

You think?!

His hand was suddenly on her knee, his full and warm palm encircling her knee making the goose bumps stand on end on her kneecap of all places. Molly blushed slightly, her cheeks rather warm, as she suddenly felt a warm tongue encircle her taut nipple.

BAM!

Her knee jerked underneath the table, Sherlock's hand colliding with a groan on the mahogany, while she blanched, staring wide-eyed at the others around the table. They returned the expression. "Sorry," she blurted out, focusing on the plate with food on it.

WHAT ARE YOU THINKING ABOUT?

You felt that, didn't you?

Sherlock!

I was just curious whether or not it would work.

You're not making any sense? What would work?

"What's going on with you two?"

"Nothing's going on!" said Sherlock to John who gaped at him.

"Err, I was asking Greg, but thanks?"

Might need to actually pay attention to the conversation I think...

Molly schooled her expression and noticed that Mary was eyeing her with particular interest.

Touch me.

That sounds rather rude.

"Well, then, there's no problem," said Sherlock cheerily while John shared a glance with his wife. "So one-legged thief anyone? Do go on George-,"

Greg didn't even bother to correct him, but did stare, "Not much of a story to be honest, or well, you obviously didn't listen - since I finished it already?"

"Yeah, it was rather boring," said Sherlock.

"Sherlock!" said John annoyed. "Could you please play nice? …Jesus."

"… So sorry George. I'm sure the story about the one-legged man was average at best."

"Oh god."

You weren't even paying attention!

She avoided glancing into his direction, trying to look normal, however hard it was, and she genuinely hoped no one would drag her into a conversation.

Neither did you, but if he'd stop looking at you, I'd not need to defend my territory.

I'm not your territory, Sherlock!

You know what I mean.

Do I really?

We need to see your friend.

No, we're not.

You've not told her, have you?

Yes I have!

Molly, I know when you're lying.

Shut up! Everyone thinks we're mad.

She wasn't wrong. The general air in the room was stiffening to say the least, the others drinking more than eating in silence, with the exception of Mary who was still staring at the pair of them like she knew they were having a private conversation right in front of them. Molly was about to say something, smile readied on her lips when she felt a hand slide between her legs, careful and warm. She looked down to see no hand, but she could feel it. It was unnerving, even more so to feel a finger glide against the fabric of her knickers, followed by another, slow and steady strokes, her leg wobbling in response and surprise. And so she felt those warm fingers drag themselves against her already hot flesh, cruelly slow, before they stopped, the pressure of those phantom fingers remaining there.

We need to see your friend…And I'll stop.

Do you want me to stop?

She quickly imagined touching his cock, and Sherlock's knee jerked underneath the dining table, his glass of wine spilling across the pretty white tablecloth. Molly bit her laughter down, pressing her lips together.

It was almost too easy.

"Oi!" said Greg in surprise.

"What is going on?" said John.

"Yes, what is going on?" said Mary.

I win, but I should go.

Yes.

"Umm," she begun, clearing her throat. "I'm not feeling so good." The others stared, though looked like they thought they knew why. "I think I've got to go. I'm so sorry."

Sherlock stood up, his chair scraping against the floor.

I can go alone.

"I'm leaving as well," said Sherlock, making her almost cringe.

Subtle...

"Right," said John throwing his napkin on his plate in annoyance.

Molly gave an awkward smile, "I'm, I'm really sorry-," she said, surprised to find herself pulled by her hand by Sherlock who looked sincerely determined, and who she luckily, or unluckily couldn't hear the thoughts to.

The door to the house slammed shut at their hasty departure.

Lestrade turned to look at Mary and John, "They're shagging, aren't they?"