His brow furrows a bit, making a mental note to ask her what that meant at some point. "Child autopsies...must be difficult for someone like you."

"Someone like me?", Molly questions, looking slightly offended.

"Yes, ah, I just meant that you're empathetic."

Molly nods, her eyes softening again. "I was er...going to grab lunch at the café i-if you wanted to come with..."

For a moment, Sherlock is stuck in his head, recalling the first deductions he had made about her when they first met. {single, alone, dead parents, sister, victim, shy, brilliant, distant from relatives, miscarriage, broken, self-conscious, organized, loving, kind, acquainted with death, helpful, good baker, loss, focused, neat, beautiful…} God, that last one just has to keep sneaking in there, doesn't it? He scoffs at his mind palace self. Ah, now he understands. Dead children, miscarriage. That's why she's so emotional. Clearly they aren't the same type of death, but she's a feeler so must be the connection? As for the one good parent, one bad parent...they're both dead. I've deduced that they are, damn, not sure what she meant. Unavoidable questions to ask for a better time.

"Sherlock?", Molly gently waves a hand in front of his face, looking a bit freaked out at his frozen form, eyes slightly open but seemingly vacant.

Blinking, he re-focuses and realized he blanked out in the middle of their awkward conversation. "Mind palace."

"What?"

"I was in my mind palace. It's a-a memory processing technique for easier recalls and organization of facts...er...think of it like a house in your mind filled with different rooms. Each room is designated to certain facts. For example, I have a room for my childhood memories, a room for scientific facts, things I've come across in pro-bono cases as a child, things I've picked up recently on paid cases..."

'A room for Molly Hooper', his mind palace self-taunts him from his mind, and his lip twitches in annoyance.

"Wow that sounds very interesting and impressive", she says softly.

He nods and they stand there silently and awkward for a bit.

"So did you want to...", Molly motions to the elevator.

"Oh! The café. Right. Sure, why not. Unless you are too distraught to handle someone as cold as me right now."

"I assure you I can handle it, you're not the worst thing in this world Sherlock Holmes. I've been through the worst of the worst, and dealing with you, even daily, wouldn't be close to the top of that list", she smiles softly.

"Hm", he looks at her curiously.

"What?", she blushes deeply under his scrutinizing gaze.

"You're quite the puzzle. Gives me something to entertain my mind."

Molly turns redder and clears her throat as they step into the elevator. "If my life were to be defined, many would say the genre would be tragedy. But one day I believe it will get better. I have to. I've done too much work on myself for everything /not/ to work out. So it will. Until then, I'll be patient. Anything thrown my way, I'll manage."

Sherlock can't help but mentally cheer her on. He doesn't know what this woman has been through, but he knows he'd like to be around when she finally finds the victory she seeks.

.

.

Molly slips into a chair in the café with her food, Sherlock silently sitting in the chair across from her at the small corner table.

"Am I to deduce that you were a shy type in school as well? It seems a bit too habitual to seek out the most singled out table in the entire café."

She chuckles and shrugs. "Yeah, I wasn't very social. I was a nerd; loved science, loved books, kept to myself, wasn't too boy crazy, not that there were any worth it at the time. I went to dances by myself because my father thought it would be good for me, but it was just awkward since I'm a terrible dancer. Why are we talking about my secondary school experience again, and can we not?"

"Mine was similar, so yes, let's not."

Molly raises an eyebrow. "You were an outcast? /You/?", she says, jokingly and mockingly.

"Oh hush", he rolls his eyes.

She smiles sweetly and eats her sandwich. "Not eating?"

"Digesting slows me down."

"Well actually it doesn't, it breaks down whatever you eat and turns it into energy, but you know that", she shrugs.

"It just makes me uneasy to eat when I am working, it's easier to say digestion slows me down."

"Oh, okay."

"So...your parents are dead", he states, obviously.

"Well that was blunt...but yes..."

He nods slowly, his eyes searching for a deeper story, but not ushing her, as he doesn't want backlash and to be kicked out of the morgue/lab.

"I keep a lot of things to myself, Mr. Holmes, I have a horrid background that I'd rather go unknown by my colleagues, in lieu of judging or pitying me. I'd rather earn everything on merit. Do you understand that?"

"Yes, I should think I do. You know how I was the first time we met. I'm...better now."

"That's great. A lot of people can't get and stay clean, so I'm glad you have."

"Thank you...", he clears his throat.

"You're welcome." Molly crinkles up the wrapper that her sandwich was in, and she finishes her mineral water. "Well...I'd better get back to work. Do you have a case or something you're working on?", she asks softly, blushing as he runs a hand through his curls.

"Nothing yet since I got back yesterday. I'll have to ask Lestrade. Unless you have some spare body parts I can experiment on in the lab?"

"Oh...um...maybe, I-I could check."

"Great, let's go." Sherlock gets up and strides to the door to the café, his coat flowing behind him. Molly hops up and tries to match his long strides by walking faster, tossing her trash into the bin on the way out.

Once they get back down to the lab, she hands him a bag of small appendages that were not able to be saved to experiment on as she does some toxicology tests for a few of the corpses in the morgue.

"Hey, Sherlock?"

"Mhh", he mumbles.

"It's become more normal to have you hanging around than not. And though you get in the way a lot of the time, I suppose it's good to have you back."

He glances over at her and raises an eyebrow. "You suppose?"

"Yep. Sometimes it is", she blushes deeply.

"Riiight...", he drawls, turning back to his experiment as Molly shakes her head and turns back to her own work.

.

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{The Blog of Doctor Molly Hooper – September 8th, 2009

Sherlock is home. He was slightly more sociable than he was when he left for Florida. We even had lunch together! Not that it means anything, but I saw a small glimpse of the real version of him, which was nice. I'm sure he won't stay so open, but it's great in the moments that he is. He looked so gorgeous as usual. I really wanted to feel his curls, but I'm not a total creep. Anyway, Meena emailed me a couple of hours ago. They finally set a date for the wedding this coming March, so it looks like I'll be heading to Texas for a farmhouse-style wedding. Seems interesting. I'm just glad that I still have my best friend, despite the whole long-distance thing. I'm so happy she's found someone to love her; she deserves all the happiness in the world.

x x x Molly}

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{The Digital Journal of Sherlock Holmes – September 8th, 2009

Well, I went and saw Molly Hooper today, I let her know that I was back. She seemed fairly pleased which was odd since most people can't stand being around me. But I know she has a thing for me, all her mannerisms point to it. That works well for me, as I can be sweet, and she'll bend to my whims (hopefully). I feel at home in the lab, so it's good that I can get access when I want with a bit of sweet talk. Of course, that's just what I tell myself. But I promised that I was finished with feelings, and I am. They are a weakness that any good enemy would use to gain traction. Therefore but getting rid of them all, I get rid of weakness. I'm ready to become a household name, and when that happens, one thing I will not be is weak. Molly Hooper will just have to get used to a colder version of me going forward. And everyone else for that matter.

SH}