A new body had just been brought into the morgue a few minutes ago and Molly Hooper was just setting out her instruments as she always did. The man had had his throat slit. She started with her external examination, noting down the lack of tattoos, red marks on the back of his left hand (presumably from nervous scratching) and scraping the dirt from under the man's nails. She wrote a few more things down before she was satisfied she had got everything and was just about to start her internal examination when the door opened and a familiar dark, coat-clad man swept into the room, dramatic as ever. Why did he have to come here now? She had mostly gotten over Sherlock but having him in the room while she was trying to work was still distracting to say the least. She looked up and smiled just as John came in, slightly out of breath.
"Why do we have to run everywhere, what's wrong with walking? Oh hi Molly," He said after plonking himself down in a stool in the corner.
"I need to use your lab," Sherlock stated, ignoring John's question.
"Oh, yes, okay," she took off one of her gloves and fumbled around in her pocket for her keys, "here," she chucked them over to Sherlock who promptly swept out of the room again.
"Thank you Molly," said John apologetically.
"That's okay John, I'll bring some coffee up when I'm finished up here," she gestured at the unfortunate man on the slab.
"Thanks see you later," he called as he hurried after Sherlock and the door swung closed behind him.
It was just over an hour later and Molly had finished dissecting and taking samples of the abdominal organs; she was now in the process of removing the top of the skull. The little circular saw made a loud grinding sound as she cut through the relatively thin layer of bone. She finished and put the cranium to one side. There was a sound behind her. John would have said hello so it must be Sherlock.
"Um, hello Sherlock, what are you looking for?" she asked whilst carefully lifting the exposed brain into a metal bowl, not looking up.
"Hello Molly."
She stiffened and turned around slowly. She was astoundingly calm considering the circumstances. There, casually sat on the same stool John was sat on earlier, elbow resting on a shiny, steel work surface was one of the last people she wanted to see. An absurd thought came to mind and she thought at how rude it was for him to interrupt her autopsy. Rude? This man was on a completely different level altogether from rude! She realised she'd been silent for several seconds and touched her forehead exasperatedly, forgetting the brain matter on her latex gloves.
"…Jim?"