Molly's POV

Fear wrapped its slimy tentacles around Molly as she fought for control, for composure. She was going to focus on her work, not the problem at hand. She was not going to let it taint her work. The detective had never affected her that strongly before, and he wasn't about to now. Contrary to popular belief, Molly wasn't so pathetically infatuated with Sherlock that she would allow her work ethic to slip in favor of fawning over him her every waking moment.

Molly shoved the detective out of her thoughts, and the morning trickled by without a second mental interruption. Only once she was finished with her first few tasks did Molly allow her thoughts to wander to her previous problem, her mind a whirl as she began to clean her instruments.

Sherlock was two hours late to their appointment of sorts, and it wasn't like him to arrive late. Whenever she had time to send him home with leftover organs, he'd always arrived exactly when he said he would. In all of the years she'd known him, he'd never missed it without explanation.

What if he'd gotten injured or worse during their latest case? She hadn't seen Lestrade around at all, and Sherlock had briefly visited her a few days ago.

Her heart beat wildly, and her hands began to shake. Setting her instrument down carefully on the rack, she exhaled and inhaled slowly. It wouldn't do to let her emotions control her; not when she had no right to be so upset over Sherlock.

Besides, this was Sherlock Holmes she was fussing over. She had nothing to worry about; he was probably perfectly fine, perfectly-

Her phone chimed, alerting her to a new text message, and Molly nearly dropped the device in anxious haste.

Can't come in today. Could you bring the organs to the flat?- SH

Molly's heart beat wildly as her thumbs flew across the keypad.

Of course! I'll be over in a few- MH

Molly glanced at the clock and sighed. An hour and a half of her break left (her cleanup occupying the first ten minutes), and it was going to be spent delivering objects that were probably illegal to remove from the building to a brilliant detective pitifully ignorant of her existence unless it benefitted him.

The things she did for love.

Upon arriving at Baker Street, Molly was immediately bombarded by Mrs. Hudson.

"Now you better not- Oh! Molly! When I heard the door I thought it was going to be Lestrade with another case," Mrs. Hudson greeted as she swung the door open wide.

"Nope, it's just me," Molly replied as she stepped into the dark entrance. "Why are the lights off?"

"Oh, Sherlock turned them all off. Him and John came bursting into the flat late last night, and it looked like John had a pretty bad head injury. That might have something to do with it." Mrs. Hudson's tone was light with familiar hope that stung Molly, though, after a pause, the elder woman's wistful smile faltered and her eyes were alight with sympathy. The only thing more obvious than Molly's feelings for Sherlock was the landlady's desire for the two men to shag.

Mrs. Hudson flipped the light switch without warning, silencing Molly's rising protests with a shooing motion. The pathologist smiled and murmured her thanks as she ascended the stairs carefully.

Before she could knock on the next door, it too swung open (had Mrs. Hudson picked up the habit from Sherlock, or was it the other way around?), though the action was unaccompanied by chatter. Sherlock held the door open for Molly and slowly closed it behind her.

Darkness engulfed the room, light occasionally peeking from patches of uncovered windows, barely illuminating the detective.

"Here you go," she murmured. "Is this why you couldn't come in today? John?"

"No," Sherlock replied as he accepted her delivery. "I had business to take care of."

Liar, Molly thought. The only thing you took care of was John, and I hope he appreciates it.

Sherlock didn't spare her a second glance as he opened the package and inspected his contents. Molly wasn't going to call him out on his lie, wasn't going to stoop to his level-

No. She had a right to speak her mind. Someone needed to squash Sherlock's ego, if only for a moment. He had no right to ignore her, not when she'd spent her lunch break catering to his demand.

"Be sure to clean up properly in between inspecting those kidneys and taking care of John," Molly snapped. "Wouldn't want him getting hurt because of you again."

Sherlock's horrified stare followed her the entire trip out of their flat, and it was only when she couldn't feel his embarrassed terror that the guilt reared its ugly head.