Okay so I'm trying to update roughly once a week even if they are short chapters, but that's as much because of where they seem to end
naturally, as me having to get back in the swing of writing prose. I hope you all like this on, let me know :)
"I want Anderson off the case!"
"I can't do that and you know it!"
"Just say I can't work with him."
"You're not even supposed to be here."
"Oh that's just because people are idiots."
"Perhaps, but those ''idiots'' are your government."
"My brother owns the government!"
"Yes well sadly that wont give you any perks as long as you insist on referring to him as your "Arch enemy""
The look Sherlock gave Lestrade would have been fit to kill, had a sulky pout not distorted his haughty features. On the other hand, there was something to be said for the macabre effect of the genius' perch on top of a mortuary slab, the post mortem report supported by the chin and collar bones of a nearby corpse.
"Anderson's entire team are idiots!" Sherlock stated for the tenth time that morning; a derisive hand cuffing the report. "They still insist it was the stab wound that killed him! Let one of my doctors re-do the autopsy."
"No."
" Molly Hooper is at her sister's wedding not ten minutes away. Given that the sister is the younger of the two, Miss Hooper's own relationship status, the unavoidable presence of extended family at such events, and such family's ridiculous interest in such matters she would no doubt be more than willing to come."
Lestrade suspected that insufferable aunties had very little to do with Miss Hooper's willingness to drop everything for the cuttingly handsome detective, yet Greg's own eagerness to see Molly, coupled with his wish to get Sherlock off his back was enough to make him concede.
"Fine, text her."
Half an hour later the young doctor silently came through the doors of the mortuary. Despite the younger sister's obvious efforts to conceal the girl's sweet beauty with a tradition guided ghastly bridesmaid's dress, a thick veil and coat would have been required to obscure the lovely features of Molly Hooper. Only a man like Sherlock could remain unaffected in her presence, yet it was precisely that man for whom Molly came running.
"So this is the man whose autopsy you want me to perform?" Molly asked, not seeming remotely put out or curious about the reason Sherlock required a second autopsy on a man with a shredded hole in his abdomen. She never doubted Sherlock. Molly bent over John Watson's corpse, pearing into the clouding eyes.
"He looks... nice, friendly. Why would someone do this to him." She mused under her breath, already sinking into the meditation of observation. What surprised Lestrade however was Sherlock reaction. Rather than a scathing remark on such sentimentality, or even stoic silence, Greg could have sworn he heard the detective quietly breathe his agreement.
"Exactly."