Hello everybody! So sorry for the extremely late update, I never intended for it to take me this long, but I hope this will suffice. I still haven't decided who's behind the door, but I felt that I needed to get something up. So here it is, and I hope you all like it.

To the guest who decided to leave a not so nice review/and to whoever private messaged me saying nasty mean things about my shipping Sherlolly, well I would just like to say a few things.

1) I happen to be a rare shipper, who actually ships all ships. I would be happy with whatever happens on Sherlock because it's not mine to write. It's Moffat and Gatiss's, along with their writers. Obviously I'm partial to Sherlolly, but that's because it was my first ship for Sherlock. However, I do ship Johnlock, Shirene, etc. I ship them all!

2) We're all free to ship whoever we want, and there is no need to leave/send not so nice comments/reviews/messages about those ships because I was under the impression that this fandom was quite accepting. There's a sense of civility that should be adhered to, with respect, and dignity. You don't have to ship the same ships as someone else, you don't even have to like them, but you should respect them. I don't mind constructive criticism, but that was not constructive in the least. If anything it fueled my writer's block because I lost my passion for the story a little bit there.

3) Everyone has a right to be passionate about their ships, and until we find out what is canon, then we're all free to let our imaginations roam. These are simply stories that we choose to write to keep ourselves occupied until the new series airs. It is meant for entertainment, and no one made you read my little story. So there's no need to be nasty and attack me for allowing my imagination to roam with my favorite ship.

Finally, I would hope that anyone in the UK won't give spoilers for us Americans, as we won't be able to see the new series until January. I would really hate to have to take a hiatus from the internet just to avoid them. Like I said above guys, ^Common courtesy and civility^ Thank you!

I don't own anything! (I wish I did though). :D

Chapter 4

He stopped when he entered the lab. She was standing in the corner, her back facing the door and she seemed lost in her own world. Her hair was up, and he could smell her gardenia scented perfume from down the hallway. Trying to make an impression, obvious. He took his scarf off first, then his coat, before he cleared his throat to gain her attention. He ignored the squeak that she made as she jumped in surprise.

"Do you have the tongue?" he sat down.

"Y-yes, right here. Although I still don't understand why you need it." Her hand shook as she handed him the container with the diabetic woman's tongue.

"For an experiment, as I said." He was becoming annoyed. He hoped she wasn't just another idiot.

"Yes, I know, but what kind of experiment?" she had moved to stand on the other side of the counter, across from him.

"An important one."

"Oh. Why is it so important?" she almost couldn't make the words leave her mouth.

He didn't answer her, he only grunted. He busied himself with cutting the tongue into slices so that he could try different things with the different parts. He put a couple pieces into petri dishes, and another slice onto a plate to be microwaved. She realized he wasn't going to answer.

"I'm just going to pop down to the café, um, w-would you like anything?" She twirled her thumbs as she waited eagerly for his reply.

"No." he stated as he moved towards the microwave.

"Oh, okay then." She didn't understand why he acted so coldly towards her. She was being nothing but nice.

"Wait." He said as she opened the door. "Coffee, black, two sugars."

"A-alright." She said, then began to walk down the hallway.

He moved quickly towards the door to see her walk away towards the café. Once he was sure she was gone, he rushed to grab his phone that sat on the counter, and took Molly's list for the day and moved towards the morgue.


Molly hummed as she walked back towards the lab, with her plate of pasta in one hand and his coffee in the other. He was rude, but she could tell he knew what he was doing, so she was determined to make the best of it. Hopefully he would say more than two words to her before he left for the day, whenever that would be. She made her way back to the lab, she walked in and set the plate down on the counter, but when she looked up to hand him his coffee, she saw that he wasn't there. Maybe he just popped down to loo? She decided to wait for him. At least he hadn't left the microwave on or anything.

She had waited fifteen minutes since she came back from the café, and she began to wonder where he was. She decided that while she waited, she might as well eat like she had planned. The pasta was okay, but certainly not what she would have preferred for lunch. She finished, and he still hadn't returned. She was worried now, and she needed to return to her work for the day, enough of it had been wasted already. She moved around the counter, headed towards where she had left her list and paperwork for the day, but soon realized it wasn't there. He was the only other person who had been in there, but she didn't know where he was. She decided to go down the morgue to see if she had left the papers there, even though she knew she hadn't. It didn't hurt to check.

When she approached the door, she could hear crashes coming from inside, along with shouts from her coworker, Robert. She was afraid of what might be going on in there, especially since she could also hear the shouts of what sounded like Sherlock.

"Oi! What's going on in here?" she asked as she walked through the door. She gasped at the sight she saw. Sherlock was standing on one of the morgue tables holding a severed hand quite protectively, while Robert stood below him trying to reach for that very same hand.

"What the hell are you doing with that hand?" Robert shouted. "That is the property of St. Bart's mortuary! Give it to me!"

"It's for an experiment!" Sherlock shouted back.

"What the hell kind of experiment do you need a hand of a random man for?"

"You wouldn't understand!"

"Robert! Sherlock!" Molly shouted.

Both men looked at her with wide eyes, only just realizing that she was there.

"I have permission." Sherlock stared at Robert.

"Oh really? Well we'll just see about that, won't we?" Robert took off his gloves and stalked out of the doors, obviously going to make a phone call to check.

"Sherlock?" Molly asked; much more quiet now, more like her normal quiet, mousy self.

"Yes?" he stared at her now, still standing on the table, holding the hand up as if keeping a toy away from a jumping dog.

"W-what are you doing?" she almost whispered.

He sighed. "I needed this man's hand to complete my experiment."

"Why?" she asked.

"Isn't it obvious?" he asked as he moved off of the table, and moved towards the doors.

"Not really." She said.

"That woman was diabetic, so was this man. You would have known that if you had read his file."

"I hadn't looked at any of my files yet today."

"Exactly." Sherlock said as he made his way back to the lab.

"So you want to test this man's hand and that woman's tongue, because they were both diabetic?" she asked.

"Yes." He said, obviously annoyed with her at this point.

"Okay." She said, as they entered the lab.

'Okay?" he asked, surprised by her acceptance. He was more accustomed to reactions like Robert's.

"Yes. What do you need?" she asked, putting gloves on, obviously set on helping with the experiment. He stopped momentarily, watching her begin to work. It seemed that she might not be just another idiot.

"How in the hell do you have permission?!" Robert barged in, obviously angry that he couldn't have his way.

"Oh don't be so upset." Sherlock said with an obvious smirk on his face. "One could wonder how you were even able to earn a PhD. Those alarmingly orange socks couldn't have helped you, now could they?" He continued his work on the hand.

"Now look here, I don't care who you think you are. St. Bart's employees are the only ones who have permission to go near the bodies let alone take parts of them. I don't care how high up the person who gave you the permission is in the government, no one is allowed in here except me and Molly today. You got that?" Robert spat out the words as insults.

"Robert." Molly said.

"What" he snapped.

"It's okay." She said, quietly, looking at Sherlock as if asking for permission. He smirked, and that was confirmation enough for her.

"No it's not." Robert said.

"Robert. I said it was okay. He has permission, from me." She said, feeling confidant, something she had yet to experience in Sherlock's presence until that point.

"But I…" he began.

"I said I had permission." Sherlock stated, with a genuine smile on his face, obviously a dismissal directed at Robert.

Robert harrumphed, and began to walk out of the lab.

"At least tell me what exactly you're doing with the hand." He said, his hand resting on the door.

"An-" Sherlock started.

"An experiment." Molly stated. Robert grumbled, but left, obviously annoyed by the answer and angry that it had been given by Molly.

Sherlock watched her, a genuine smile on his face, knowing that he now had an ally here at Bart's. Yes, this would be the pathologist he would go to from now on.


Sherlock sat on Molly's bed, remembering that first experiment with Molly. It seemed like such a long time since then. He really enjoyed these painkillers they made everything slow down, and for the first time in a long time it seemed that even though things moved slowly, he wasn't actually bored by it.

He could hear voices from the living room, not quite angry, but he could tell that Molly wasn't happy with whoever had knocked on the door at close to 6 in the morning. It could be because of the person themselves, the time, or the fact that he was supposed to be dead and yet here he was sitting on her bed.

No one was supposed to know that he was alive, and most especially that he was staying at Molly's apartment for the time being. Whoever it was, they didn't want to leave any time soon. He realized that he may have to stay in that room for quite some time, so he may as well make himself comfortable. He quickly fell asleep, almost as soon as he placed his head on her pillow.

He awoke to pounding on the bedroom door,

"Sherlock! Sherlock! Come out of there right now! Sherlock, you have to wake up! Now! Wake up!"

All that he understood from the shouting was one thing; that was definitely not Molly's voice.


I hope you guys liked it. Review if you want, and hopefully there won't be any more nasty messages and rude reviews. We're all writers here, we should supporting each other, not tearing each other down.

Also, special shout to Amelia, who gave me the idea to write out a flashback to help with the writer's block and for her support after those messages I received.

Have a lovely day guys! :) (Smile, it always makes the day better and brighter.)