Molly Hooper peered through the microscope at the DNA sample she'd procured from the lab. She carefully adjusted the lens until she could make out all the details she needed and smiled to herself. It was as she'd expected; a perfect match to the sample she'd been storing for days. If that was the case, then it could not possibly belong to the real killer; it was a decoy, one that had unfortunately been successful in duping Lestrade and his team. Lucky for them Molly had intervened. As she'd suspected from the beginning, the man they now held in jail had been framed. The evidence had been obvious, but she knew Lestrade had his hands tied when it came to Molly's deductions. Far from not believing her, he was simply unable to make decisions based on them, and so Molly often was forced to meticulously prove what she already knew. She wouldn't have minded at all if it was not such an infernal waste of time. The Yard would not wait for her, and quickly as she was capable of working, many a suspect had undergone unfair treatment in the time it took Molly to prove herself when all the time she knew they were innocent.

"Could you hand me the other slide, please?" she asked the pathologist standing next to her. When he didn't reply she glance up at him and was surprised to see he was staring at her again.

"Erm…Sherlock," she said awkwardly.

The dark-haired pathologist blinked, then straightened himself up and cleared his throat. "Yes, Ms. Hooper?" he muttered.

"I've told you before, you can call me Molly," she chided him.

"Yes, of course," Sherlock said as he made his way to the other side of the lab table to pick up the slide she'd asked for. "Habits." He handed her the slide.
Molly took it. "We've only known each other going on three months now—as long as I've been coming in her," she said. "It can't be that much of a habit."

Knowing that Sherlock would not know what to say, she pretended to drop the subject as she replaced the DNA sample under the microscope with a new one. Busily taking notes as she worked, she kept one ear cocked to listen as Sherlock continued his own work in the lab with his autopsy instruments. It was easy enough for her to brush aside the tension in favor of her work, but she was aware that Sherlock had more difficulties dealing with his emotions. Some described his bluntness and insensitivity as "psychopathic," but Molly knew that he felt more than he let on.

She had just finished her work and had begun to pack away her things when the door to the lab opened and two people walked in. Sherlock glanced up with an annoyed expression on his face; absorbed in an autopsy like a teenager absorbed in a mystery novel, he hated being interrupted, especially by people who apparently did not belong in the lab. And Molly could tell neither of these people were regulars. For one thing, the first one was an acquaintance of hers, Mike Stanford; though he was a medical student and it was not bizarre that he would wander into the lab at St. Bart's. The other Molly had never seen before, but after giving her a once-over she saw all she needed to gather that she, no doubt, had a very good reason for being here as well.

"Mike," she greeted as he came into ear shot.

Mike smiled and nodded. "Molly, nice to see you. Here, this is an old friend of mine, Mary Morstan."

Molly put down her bag and approached the blond woman to shake her hand. "Nice to meet you, Mary. I'm Molly Hooper," she said.

Mary's smile was genuine, if a bit nervous, and she gave Molly's hand a brief shake before dropping it. Her eyes wandered unconsciously around the room, taking in the lab instruments, Sherlock at his autopsy, and Molly's half-packed experiment at the other table. In an attempt to break the awkward silence Molly spoke up.

"So, you're here about the room, are you? What have you thought so far?" she inquired.

Mary turned back to her, startled, then looked to Mike. "You told her already? I didn't see you text anyone."

Mike gave Mary an amused smile. "I didn't."

"I surmised," Molly said almost apologetically. "I'd only just mentioned my situation to Mike this morning after not seeing him for weeks, and here he shows up out of the blue with a person I've never met before, who happens to be in a similar situation as myself. Sorry if I startled you, but it's all straightforward if you think of it."

Mary again looked confused, her brow furrowed as she glanced from Mike to Molly. "What do you mean—a similar situation?" she asked in a voice suggesting she was guarding herself carefully. Molly hurriedly tried to reassure her.

"Oh, I only mean in that we're both looking for a place to stay at a reasonable price, given we're both a bit short on cash, with no family to turn to—a common enough situation, and fortunate for both of us that we've found each other," she added, hoping Mary didn't take her statement too personally.

"But—" Mary stared at Molly. "How…did you know about my…uh…situation?"

Molly glanced at the clock and saw it was almost six. "Oh, it doesn't really matter," she said, making her way to her bag to finish packing away her instruments. "We're both on the same boat. So I bet we're a good enough match. I'm moving in tomorrow at nine. Mrs. Hudson gave me the key, so I can meet you there around then? Otherwise just knock and she'll let you in. She's an awful dear, Mrs. Hudson is. Sorry to cut you off but I have to get going, I have an appointment with a client in fifteen. I'll see you tomorrow then?" She smiled encouragingly as she zipped up her bag. Mary continued to stare at her for whatever reason. Not wanting to be rude, but still in a hurry, Molly nodded once at her and walked out of the lab.