Her life with Sherlock had settled into a comfortable routine. She'd often spend hours during the day cleaning the flat, making it a more hospitible, only to have Sherlock return home like a complete whirlwind, messing up her entire day's work in a few minutes. She didn't mind, not really, not about him messing up the flat anyway. If she was honest with herself, she was getting a little fed up with having to stay home, she missed working. It felt like years since she'd last performed an autopsy. She lived for the days when Sherlock would have a murder case and drag her along to St. Bart's. Mycroft's new regime forbade her from working, but that morning, like so often, Sherlock had jumped onto her bed, startling her. As she looked up into his attractive face, beaming with the idea of a case that actually interested him, she found she couldn't be mad.
"I need you to come to St. Bart's" he smiled "You're going to do an autopsy for me.."

So three hours later, she was running her scalpel along the sternum of the corpse, smiling to herself as she did so. It felt like second nature, like something she'd not been able to do for so long, but something she so desperately craved.
"They're not the same.." he'd told her once, when she'd asked why he always took her along "None of them have your skill. They're idiots. They miss crucial clues. They're not.. you... You're my pathologist.."

"What do you think?" the dark haired detective bent over the corpse, pulling out his pocket magnifying glass.
"Definite asphyxiation" Molly glanced at him, looking down at the notes he'd handed her seconds ago.
"Correct.. anything interesting in the blood work?"
"Large amount of Amatoxin. 12mg.."
"Ah, and yet the cause of death was asphyxiation?"
"Most definitely"
"Correct again, Molly.." Sherlock smiled, kissing the side of her head. John frowned slightly as he watched the display before him. Over the past few weeks, he seemed to have slipped back into the role of housemate more than boyfriend. It was beginning to irritate him somewhat, but he could hardly blame Molly for it, she was the victim in all of this, at the end of the day.

Molly sat behind Sherlock, glancing around Scotland Yard like an excited schoolgirl. She'd never been there before, and the fact that she was there helping Sherlock with a case just made her feel special.
"Any ideas?"
"Oh I've solved the case, Lestrade. Arrest her sister. And her husband."
"Care to explain?" Lestrade asked, perching on the edge of his desk and folding his arms, his eyes focussed on the detective. Molly smirked, watching as Sherlock explained the ins and outs of the case in his usual, arrogant manner.
"The victim's sister was sleeping with her husband.." Sherlock said. He was growing bored with these dull cases. Why were the police so out of their depth so often? Still.. at least the world was slowly getting back to normal, case wise. "And the husband had a.. rather large life insurance policy taken out on his wife and so planned to poison her before heading off on a business trip, shown by his choice of poison.. What he didn't plan on, however, the two sisters getting into an argument, and one of them strangling the other.."
"How did you.." Lestrade started, as Sherlock rose from his seat.
"You'd have worked it out far quicker if you had a pathologist who was as good as mine.."

"What are YOU doing here?" Sherlock snapped as he entered the room, glaring at his elder brother. Mycroft sat in Sherlock's armchair, twirling his umbrella lightly. His very presence irritated Sherlock at that minute, he'd still not forgiven Mycroft for the whole 'selling Molly as a pet' thing.
"I've come to collect that which isn't being used..." Mycroft stated simply.
"What are you talking about?" Sherlock frowned. Why was his brother such an idiot?
"Molly.. You're not breeding with her, so I'm going to take her to someone who will.."