Molly popped the kettle on and then walked back over to the sofa to take her shoes off. "Make yourself at home. You know where everything is." She walked over to the fire and started the process of lighting it. It was a cold night with a frost due, but the flat was not too chilly as Molly had left the heating on. The fire was soon roaring. Molly went into her bedroom, and changed out of what she had been wearing into a tracksuit which was much more comfortable. Once she had done this, she returned back into the kitchen to make the coffees.
Sherlock did indeed know where everything was in Molly's flat. He'd spent several days and nights staying there immediately after the fall. He looked around at the familiar layout and setting, remembering the initial shock he had secretly felt immediately after the fall. The feeling of being separated from John, from his life. The knowledge that the three people he had sacrificed so much for believed him to be dead in the mortuary at St Barts. That John would have been sitting in Baker Street alone, staring at his chair. If it hadn't been for Molly he'd never have survived. What they all believed had happened would have been reality. But instead, thanks to this brilliant little pathologist, he was standing there today, living and breathing.
He snapped himself back into the here and now, lay his coat on the same chair he had always put it in when he was staying there, and put his shoes in the same space by the door.
He subconsciously rubbed his aching back before moving his hand to take his glasses off and rub his forehead which had also begun with a dull ache.
"Headache?" asked Molly carrying the coffee through. She put the two coffees on the floor, one by Sherlock's feet and the other down by where she was going to sit.
"No" Sherlock lied. "Just brushing my hair out of the way." He put his glasses back on, and sat himself down on the sofa. He picked up a paper from the day before and started to read.
Molly joined Sherlock sitting down, and put her feet up on the coffee table in front of them both. No words were spoken between them; none were needed. They were so comfortable in each other's company. At first she sat a little distance from him and just watched him read, as she sipped her coffee. He was fascinating to watch. She observed as he read, at great speed, and she could almost see his brain deciding what was important and what wasn't. Unimportant things were immediately deleted; interesting or useful facts logged and catalogued into his mind palace, ready for instant recall should he need it.
Molly's attention moved to watch the flickering of the fire, it's soporific effects soon overtaking her. A wave of tiredness swept over Molly as she watched him, and without giving it a second thought, she shuffled herself closer to Sherlock and snuggled into his side. To her surprise, his left arm stretched out and wrapped itself around her. She glanced at Sherlock to see that, apart from moving his arm, he was still engrossed in his newspaper, reading as intensely as before.
The warmth of the flat, and the comfort of being snuggled into Sherlock were too much for Molly and she closed her eyes, drifting off into a peaceful, exhausted sleep.
It was 20 minutes or so later that Sherlock finished reading the paper and became conscious that Molly's sleeping form was next to him. She was very deeply asleep. He very gently moved himself away from her so as not to wake her, and went into her bedroom, where he pulled back the duvet and prepared the bed for her. He then returned to the lounge, slipped his arms under her body and gently carried her to her bedroom. He placed her softly down into her bed, and pulled the duvet up around her, before planting a gentle kiss on her forehead and saying "Good night Molly Hooper". He silently closed her bedroom door.
Back in the lounge, he turned off the fire, took the two mugs into the kitchen, and then sat on the sofa and pulled on his shoes and coat before seeing himself out, hailing a taxi and heading back to Baker Street.
Early the next morning Molly awoke and found herself in bed. She had absolutely no idea how she'd got there. The last thing she could remember was snuggling up next to Sherlock on the sofa and... OH MY GOD, Sherlock. The realisation suddenly hit her. She panicked and for a moment and then dared to look under the covers. She was relieved to see that she was still in the same clothes that she was wearing when she was sitting on the sofa. He'd not undressed her, he'd obviously simply carried her to her room, and put her to bed. Nothing more. She text him.
Thank you for a lovely day yesterday. I'm sorry I fell asleep. Thanks for putting me to bed... and not getting me undressed. MH x
Sherlock was aroused from his sleep by the sound of a text message coming in. He reached for his phone and tried to read the text. It was blurry. He cursed his bad eyesight before reaching for his glasses and putting them on. The text suddenly cleared. He read Molly's text and smiled.
You are welcome. Of course I didn't get you undressed. You were sleeping and therefore a dead weight and uncooperative. SH
He changed his mind before sending, deleted part and then sent it.
You are welcome. Of course I didn't get you undressed. You were sleeping. SH
Sherlock roused himself from his bed, remembering that John had mentioned something to him about an Ophthalmology appointment. He couldn't remember when it was
What time is my appointment? SH
3pm at City Hospital in the Ophthalmology department. You are seeing Prof McCartney(ophthalmologist) and Dr Channing. JW
By the way, how did you get on with Molly after you left us last night? JW
Fine thank you. SH
Good. Just in case you were thinking of it, I'm sure she'd love you to take her lunch today if you're not busy. JW
He put his phone down on the bedside cabinet. Sherlock had not considered taking Molly any lunch. He was actually quite looking forward to spending much of the day with a batch of toenails Molly had given him to experiment on. But there was something which niggled him. Yes, he actually would like to take Molly some lunch. He looked at his watch. It was just after 8am. He could spend 4 or so hours with his toenails before heading to see Molly at around 1.30pm. Then lunch with Molly before heading to City Hospital. He picked up his phone
Lunch? 1.30pm? SH
That sounds lovely. Thank you. MH
That was it decided. Without any more thought, he climbed out of bed, and put on his second best dressing gown. It was a chilly morning, so he lit the fire, boiled the kettle for a cup of tea, pulled his bag of toenails out of the fridge and settled himself down at the kitchen table. He lifted the bag of nails. All shapes and sizes. 'Good old Molly' he thought to himself 'she knows just how to keep me happy.'
At 12.00, Sherlock's alarm went off on his phone, and he pulled himself away from his microscope. There were pieces of toenail all over the table, all proving to have been very useful in his experiments and findings. He was now aware of the best way to dissolve nails and leave no trace, as well as the best way to make them expand and become much bigger. There was also an interesting smell hanging around the flat from all the different chemical compounds he had used and mixed for his experiments.
He stood up, stretched his slightly stiff back and rubbed his head which still had the same dull ache from the day before. He reached up into the cupboard and pulled out a packet of paracetemol before popping a couple in his mouth and swallowing. He wandered into the bathroom, and set the shower running, before heading into his bedroom and grabbing some clothes. He headed back into the bathroom once he was sure the water would be warm, undressed and stepped into the shower. The warm water was soothing on his aching head as he washed his hair and cleaned himself.
An hour later, he was dressed with his coat and scarf on, ready to head to St Barts. He stopped at Speedy's cafe next door on his way, picking up the sandwich he had texted down and ordered in advance. He had ordered Molly tuna which was her favourite.
He arrived at the lab at almost exactly 1.30pm, to find Molly not there. She was finishing off an autopsy in the mortuary so he wandered through to join her. Sgt Sally Donovan was with her, taking notes. Sherlock smiled at Molly as he entered, ignoring Sgt Donovan completely.
"Oh, hello, Sherlock" Molly said cheerfully as he wandered in "Just finishing this off. A body found in the Thames, washed up this morning. Sgt Donovan is wanting clues and help on it so I've just been telling her what I can work out."
"Going for the intellectual look now are we? Glasses make you look old." asked Sgt Donovan almost sneeringly. Sherlock simply stared back at her before heading over to the table Molly was standing at.
"May I?" asked Sherlock leaning over the body
"Feel free, please" said Molly stepping back to let him look.
Within seconds Sherlock was rolling off his deductions. "The victim is aged around 35. Appearance is deceptive as these lines around the eyes age her considerably. Cause of death almost certainly poisoning looking at the fingernails. They are in tact with no marks, implying no significant fight was put up. Therefore cyanide or some other such fast acting substance. Involved in a same sex relationship for approximately 7 years to a female who was around 3 inches shorter than her, but significantly heavier in build. Married to this individual for around 4 months. Her job was as a solicitors secretary and I'd say she was on her way to work when she was abducted so she'll have been reported missing somewhere around 10am yesterday morning. Her murderer was almost certainly the brother of her wife who did not approve of their marriage or the fact they were looking to conceive their first child with the help of a sperm bank. Death will have occurred within minutes of the abduction, with the poison administered through a drink which he will have given her, possibly while she was in the back of his car. He's driven her a distance of around 5 miles before throwing her into the river. The DNA on her skirt will prove to be his, as will the fact you will find her DNA on the left hand side back passenger seat belt of his car"
Sgt Donovan looked at her ipad and scrolled through some records. "Yes, there was a reported abduction yesterday morning. One Olivia Kent. Says she's 35, a solicitors secretary who was on her way to work, and that she married in September to one Holly White." She looked at him with a mix of disgust, amazement and horror. Within seconds she was on her radio, contacting the station. "Freak's here and he's identified the victim, cause of death, possible murderer and motive all with one look. I'll bring the notes in shortly but please can you send me more details on Olivia Kent who was reported missing yesterday morning."
Once her conversation was over she simply nodded to Molly, ignoring Sherlock completely and left the morgue.
"I wish she wouldn't call you that."
"I'm used to it. It's not a problem. It just gives me a great satisfaction to prove I'm right. Sandwich?"
"Thank you" said Molly taking the sandwich from Sherlock's hand. "Ooh, Tuna. My favourite, thank you."
It seemed perfectly normal to Sherlock and Molly for her to be eating her lunch in the morgue while he kept her company, like they were totally at home there.
"Spent the morning working on those toe nails you gave me."
"Anything interesting to fill me in on about them?"
They spent the next half an hour discussing his findings regarding the toenails, totally lost in their own world not noticing that Sgt Donovan had returned into the room and was watching them with interest. Surely not? Surely Sherlock and Molly had not become that close? They were sitting too close to each other. Sgt Donovan coughed and Molly and Sherlock were both snapped out of their conversation.
"I need you to sign off the paperwork before I go, Molly" she said thrusting her ipad and a stylus in front of Molly. Molly duly signed and handed it back. Sgt Donovan looked enquiringly at them both, particularly at Sherlock, before turning and leaving, almost breaking down the door as she went.