St. Bartholomew's Hospital
"So. Has it frozen yet?"
"Not quite. A few more hours should do the trick," he said, sliding the trays back into the open freezer. "Then we can boil it down and extract the sodium with the centrifuge."
"We?"
"Yes," he said, knocking one of the test tubes from the rack. He turned to Molly. "Problem?"
"No, not at all."
"Good," he said, shutting the freezer door. He glanced at Molly as she set down her clipboard.
"Want me to grab you a cup of coffee?"
"No," he said quickly. "I mean…would you rather me get you some?"
"What?"
"I do know where the coffee machine is. Two creams and a sugar?"
"Yes. How did you know?"
"By the color whenever you drink it."
"Oh. That's clever," she smiled, as Sherlock slowly made his way towards the door.
"Actually, I have a better idea," Sherlock announced, turning back to Molly. "Why don't you accompany me?"
"To the coffee machine?"
"Well, yes. I mean, no. To go get coffee."
"From…the machine?"
"We could do that. Or," Sherlock said, fidgeting with flask on the lab table. "Or we could go somewhere. Other than the coffee machine."
"You want to go out and get coffee?"
"Yes. With you. If you want. Of course, if you don't want to, the machine is perfectly…"
"Sherlock?" Lestrade burst through the door, followed by Donovan and a swarm of inspectors. He stood, panting as he looked directly at Sherlock. "Sherlock, it's Grace. She's dead."