Hello all! So sorry to be quite this late uploading but my weeks have suddenly gotten busier so I will probably only update once every 2 weeks. So sorry about that but I do hope you stick around, it's about to get exciting! P.S. As you may have noticed, the POVs are less actually POVs and more just... Third person but including that character's thoughts? Yeah.

Trigger Warnings: Dead body, mention of drug OD, non-graphic description of a post-mortem

Sherlock's POV

Sherlock pulled on the mandatory latex gloves before striding towards the body. He lifted the stiff left arm and rolled up the sleeves, seeing a needle mark. Drugs. But it was… Strange. The puncture mark was in the middle of the forearm, clearly not self administered. Drugged. Only a fool wouldn't notice that.

Clearly a drug overdose, not asphyxiation, no signs of vomiting. Possible seizure… Substance unknown

Apology note to Anna, on her way to see her.

No needle in sight, attacker left with weapon. Few signs of a struggle: bruising on left wrist, blood stain on wall. She hardly put up a fight…

Sherlock was dragged from his deductions by Lestrade's voice.

"Sherlock, I need anything ya got. She's being taken to the morgue soon for a full post mortem soon and I can't stop them." Lestrade's voice wavered slightly at the thought of his friend having a post mortem performed on her decomposing corpse.

"Drug overdose, clearly not self inflicted due to position of puncture mark and lack of apparatus nearby," Sherlock listed, "Not a commonly used drug, the symptoms make no sense. Signs of a struggle but barely. She gave up quickly. She was coming to see Anna and apologise but clearly never made it. It wasn't a suicide note, not her style. She was going to get someone to take the note to Anna instead of confronting her."

"That's all you've got?"

"Well, the attacker is female, about 1.7m tall, likely a former drug addict given their ability to access the necessary materials. Look for someone matching that description who was in Bart's on Monday." He pulled off the gloves with a snap, spinning on his heel and beginning to walk away before stopping and speaking over his shoulder, "Make sure Molly performs the post mortem, I want access to the results as soon as possible. I'll make sure she gets it done quickly."

With that, he walked away from the dazed Lestrade, remembering the state he left the young scientist in. He hurried back to the lab, hoping John had done as he asked.

Anna/John's POV

Anna had been sitting there, sobbing into John's shoulder, for half an hour before Sherlock strode in with a slight smile on his face and clapped his hands together.

"Right," he said, looking over to the two figures huddled on the ground with blotchy, red faces, "Molly should be done with the post mortem within the hour; in the meantime, we can go gather evidence at Alex's flat."

Anna looked up at the man with puffy eyes and tear tracks running down her face. She slowly rose to her feet, ignoring John's warnings to back down. How dare he.

"How dare you speak like that." she whispered, rage rising in her voice, "How dare you smile. You're acting as though on of your friends isn't laying dead on the street. She's dead and it's my fault!" The scientist was screaming now, tears once again falling, "It's my fault! I kicked her out, I told her she was useless, I made this happen! She's dead and it's because I couldn't understand that she was right to be upset! I should have told her sooner, I shouldn't have let her find out from a police report. She needed to know but I didn't tell her, and now she's dead. Because I was too caught up in my own problems to see how they could affect others."

She turned away from the stunned detective without another word and grabbed her bag, about to storm about before Sherlock stuck out an arm to stop her.

"It wasn't your fault." he said, calmly.

"Of course it was, she died and it was because I made her do it."

"It wasn't suicide, Anna. She was murdered."

The scientist's breath hitched. Oh my god, she was murdered. She thought, She was bloody murdered, it wasn't me, it was some bastard with the guts to kill MY girlfriend.

"Say that again." she murmured, turning to look at the men in the room with her.

"She was murdered. Drugged." Sherlock said, a slight hint of emotion coming through, "I don't know what with yet, Molly should find out soon enough."

Without another word, Anna rushed out the door towards the morgue. Those damn police had better have got the body to the morgue by the time she gets there or there's gonna be trouble, John thought as he scurried after his friend, towards the basement.

Molly's POV

Molly Hooper walked over to the body she had just received, with instructions to perform a full post mortem. She pulled on some gloves and unzipped the body bag only to stumble backwards when she saw the face.

That's Alex, she thought, That's definitely Alex… That means Alex is dead, oh god does Anna know? I should go tell he- no, no I have to… I have to do the post mortem. Then I'll tell Anna. I'll go tell Anna straight after-

Molly was shaken out of her thoughts as the doors to the room flew open, revealing Anna with a tear-stained face and complete determination.

"Molly," she said, authoritatively, as John and Sherlock staggered through the doors, "You are going to let me do this, because I may not be officially qualified but I know exactly what I'm doing. You can help me but you will not stand in my way."

Dumbstruck, Molly just nodded and moved to get the equipment ready. Anna spun around to face the two men behind her and spoke sweetly.

"Gentlemen, unless you are going to help you will leave."

They both stood their ground, clearly wanting to help solve the murder of their friend.

"Well then," the scientist said, "Let's get started."

They all moved to get the appropriate protective clothing, except Sherlock who, of course, only pulled on some gloves. Molly was sure she heard John mutter something about hygiene under his breath and smiled slightly at the way they each dealt with their grief. Clearly, Anna was trying to take control. She always did that. It was how she got through life, dealing with what she could and then freaking out when she couldn't affect things. John was like an open book, but written in riddles. Everything was there, right at the surface, but it was cryptic and impossible to interpret for anyone except Sherlock. Molly just… Followed. When she wasn't sure what to do, she did as she was told and tried to forget what had happened. Then Sherlock was, well, Sherlock.

With steady hands, Anna made an incision on the right abdomen, near the liver. There was scarring: liver failure. Next an incision over the heart, cut through the rib cage, clear strain on the heart: heart failure.

"Sherlock," Anna said, hardly audible.

"Yes?"

"Were there any signs of vomiting? Possible asphyxiation?"

"No."

"I think I know what it is." She announced, walking away from the examination table and taking off the scrubs with precision. "She's only been dead a few days, it should still be detectable. Molly send a blood sample to my lab, preferably from near the needle entry site. I'm going to prepare a test. Sherlock, with me."

Completely composed, the young scientist walked out of the room with the tall, dark haired figure trailing behind her, frustrated by his cluelessness.

Molly turned to John, still slightly stunned.

"What the heck is she thinking?" she asked, grabbing a syringe.

"I'm not sure, but knowing her she's right…" he muttered. "Are you alright? I mean… Alex."

Molly froze in the middle of gathering the blood sample.

"I'm doing as well as you are. Anna and Sherlock are already too focused on finding out what happened to cry." she said, voice wavering.

"You know that Anna's only focused because she knows that if she stops she'll break down." the doctor said, laying a hand on her shoulder, "She's going to need us. If she calls or texts you, be there. And also get that sample upstairs soon so she doesn't have long to think about anything else. I've got to call Greg and make him do a proper search of her flat, make sure Sherlock texts me any developments. Stay safe, Molly."

Once he had left, Molly let her smile drop and finally began to cry. What felt like hours were spent thinking about her friend, about how she was gone. But it was only a minute. She wiped the tears from her face and once again put on her cheerful facade. She had to do this for Anna.

Sherlock's POV

"Sherlock get the bottle from the cupboard labeled 'That fucker you came up with last year'." Anna ordered, already gathering beakers and pipettes on the surface.

Sherlock looked at her with utter confusion, before silently obeying and placing the bottle by the rest of the equipment, half of which he didn't recognise. He didn't understand why he had never seen it before, despite his extensive knowledge of Chemistry. He stood there, scanning the apparatus for a few moments before Anna sighed and explained.

"I invented it," she said, still bustling around the room gathering glassware, "I needed certain equipment and it wasn't exactly… standard. So I designed what I needed and commissioned a glassblower. Not that hard."

A few minutes later, Molly walked in with a small vial of rust coloured blood; Anna immediately set to work, clamping the vial over a Bunsen burner and adding some of the strange blue liquid she had Sherlock collect. Her mind whirred, looking for any sign of change in the sample. When the mixture began to turn a brighter shade of red, the biochemist rushed to turn of the roaring flame and grab the small vial, extracting some of the compound and placing it on a thin glass plate.

"Sherlock, grab me some perchloric acid, preferably 6.5M if it's there, pure if not."

Sherlock hurried over to the side room, returning 20 seconds later, having not remembered to bring protective gloves with him, with a glass jar marked with the corrosive warning symbol standing out in bright colours and a small, hand-written label of '6.5M' as well.

"Anna you should probably be using gloves with that." Molly said, cautiously.

Anna simply ignored her friend's warning and extracted some of the acid, moving over and dropping it onto the crimson fluid on the dish. The moment, the acid touched the blood, it fizzed and became a bright green residue.

Anna's face fell. She turned towards her friends, walking over slowly and hugging Sherlock.

"It's my fault." she said, voice muffled slightly by the detective's shirt.

"It was a murder, it couldn't possibly be your fault." he replied.

"I know what the drug was. And it's my fault."

"What do you mean?" Molly asked, bewildered.

"She was drugged with the drug I've been working on." Anna sobbed, "I've checked her blood, it's the antibiotic I'm testing. She was killed with a drug I made, it's my fault."

"No," Molly said, softly, "No, it's not your fault Anna. You're making that to save lives, someone could have stolen it. It's not your fault, I promise."

"For once, Molly's right." Sherlock said, earning a scowl from both the women in the room, which he of course didn't notice, "The game is on. We will find the murderer, and when we do, Alex will have the justice she deserves. Call Lestrade, we must start at once and, unfortunately, we need the help of the ever incompetent Scotland yard."

And that's another chapter over! Remember to review and leave feedback, as it is always appreciated, whether positive or negative. DFTBA! -Lyfe