Tis a bit of a shorter chapter, but don't worry. I won't leave you hanging!

Unfortunately the sleep didn't last as long as she would have liked. She woke up, groggy headed, to her phone going off. She slapped her hand out and grabbed the phone holding it on her pillow as she flipped it open.

Why aren't you at the morgue?

SH

Molly sat up in her bed, staring down at the text, her heart speeding up slightly. She wouldn't say that she had many weaknesses (the fear had been scared out of her years ago), but she sure had a weakness for the man currently texting her. She fumbled with the phone for a moment until she got her keyboard.

Why? Do you need me at the morgue?

She glanced at her alarm clock, and then grimaced when she realized that she had only been asleep for about 5 hours. She lay back down and was hoping for another hour or so when her phone went off again.

Get here now

SH

Molly was in and out of the shower in less than twenty minutes, and hailed a taxi to the morgue with her hair still wet. When she finally got to St. Bart's and down to the morgue, a tense Sherlock and an exasperated John were waiting in front of the double doors.

"That moron in there will not allow me to see the body I need without clearance," Sherlock nearly growled. Molly smirked slightly, and then turned to John.

"This is why I got woken up?" she asked. He nodded, sharing a grin with her as Sherlock continued his rant into the morgue. Molly walked in behind him with a sigh, waving at the current technician to go take a much needed break.

She pulled the body out that Sherlock indicated, unzipping the bag and curling her nose slightly at the smell.

"There you go," she said, gesturing at the body, of Sherlock did. She stood off to the side and was just starting to contemplate a large cup of coffee when her cell phone started ringing. It took her a moment to realize that "Carry On My Wayward Son" was blaring from the pocket of her lab coat, but Sherlock and John noticed right away.

"Molly, is that your phone?"

Molly stood up straight from where she had been leaning on the wall. She took out her cell phone and looked at the men.

"Mind if I take this?"

"By all means," John gestured. Sherlock had turned back to the body, ignoring her. She nodded and walked about thirty feet away. John stared at her for a moment, and then laughed slightly.

"Never struck me that Molly would listen to that kind of music."

Sherlock blinked, and then glanced up.

"Me either."

Molly answered the phone quickly after she had left the general vicinity of the two men (particularly a certain someone).

"Hullo?"

"Molly Molly, well I do declare!"

Molly laughed out loud, and then covered her mouth when it echoed through the room.

"It is damn good to hear your voice Dean," she said. She could still remember that night, over a year ago, when she realized that the man that she considered her brother, the man who was supposed to be dead, was calling her. Ever since then she loved it when he called, which he made an attempt to do frequently.

"Bobby called. Said you've been having a bad couple of weeks."

"Yeah, it's not been fun. But you know me. I'm a tough girl," she said with a cheeky grin. When she was younger, when she used to have really bad days, Dean would cluck her under the chin and call her a tough girl. This would usually be followed with shooting practice.

"Yes you are. Here, I'm driving so I'm going to give you to Sam. Hang on."

She listened as she heard shuffling, a muffled yelp, and then a thump as someone dropped the phone. When she heard it get picked up she laughed.

"Hey Sam, did Dean wake you up?"

"What? No?" this was punctuated with a loud yawn. Molly laughed, now too absorbed in the conversation to care that the two men behind her could hear her.

"How've you two been?" she asked.

"Pretty good. Chased by demons, hounded by angels…the usual."

Molly nodded.

"Yeah, I hear you. Sent Mick on a job yesterday."

"Oh yeah? What was it?"

Molly lowered her voice a fraction.

"Vetala. Came in yesterday."

"Huh, interesting. Dean and I are on our way to try and kill Lucifer."

"So the usual then?" she joked, but inside she felt something coil deep inside her. The feeling?; intense worry.

"Yeah, but hearing your voice has made things oh so much better."

Molly giggled and blushed slightly. Whilst she had never had a crush on Sam (like she had Dean) she recognized the fact that he was a good looking man…even if he was built like a house and could probably crush her with his left hand. She sighed and leaned against the wall.

"I miss you guys," she whispered.

"We miss you too Mol. Are you planning a trip back any time soon?"

She thought about it for a moment. Since she rarely took days off and had a fairly good immune system, she had racked up a fair amount of vacation time.

"I'll see what I can do. Look, I should be getting back. I'll talk to you guys later."

"Talk to you later Molly," Sam said. Molly had drilled into the boy's heads at a young age that she disliked it when anyone said 'Bye' to her over the phone. It sounded too…finite, to her. She closed the phone and placed it back in her pocket. She turned and stopped. Two sets of eyes were boring into her, one holding a much stronger gaze than the other.

"Who was that?" John remarked casually after a few minutes of awkward silence. Molly shrugged as she walked up to the men. She glanced down at the body.

"Friends of mine. Well…I say friends."

"Acquaintances?" John asked.

"Brothers," Molly replied. John raised an eyebrow.

"I didn't know you had brothers."

Before she could reply Sherlock interrupted.

"She doesn't," he stated. Molly glanced over at him.

"How do you know?" she asked.

"You have no biological family. Parents died when you were young. You were raised by a non-blood-related relative from a fairly early age. If those two men were your brothers, you are in no way biologically related to them."

Molly's eyes narrowed slightly. Sherlock was allowed to get away with many things (many more than most would get away with in her book), but speaking ill of her family was not one of those things.

"You don't have to be biologically related to someone to love them like family," she stated sharply. Sherlock looked up from the body, meeting Molly's eyes for a split second. She felt a flush overtake her face and wished she could look as stoic as him.

"I agree, Miss Hooper," he said suddenly.

"I…what?" she looked up, her face a map of confusion.

"I agree with what you said. Now, I will need a sample of the victims liver tissue. I have an idea…well, actually I have three."

And that was it, or so Molly assumed. She went home not long after putting the corpse back into its own personal fridge, then went back home to get some much needed rest before her shift that night.