A continuation of the little plot-bunny of Molly the Detective.
Apologies in advance for dull writing and slow-moving Sherlolly action/lovey-dovey times.
"I didn't even touch your sock index!"
"Are you suggesting it was Mrs. Hudson?"
"You're the bloody detective, you work it out!"
The sudden bang of the doors, followed by rushed steps on linoleum caused Molly to jump in her chair.
In their fiery exchange, Molly went unnoticed by the two men as they strode over to the lab station. Angry mutters flowed freely from the taller man while his companion, settling himself onto a stool, shot her a sympathetic smile.
"Don't mind us, Molly."
This received John a sarcastic gruff from the detective, whose hands were already occupied with 'his' microscope but his eyes, John noted, followed the pathologist eagerly as she moved over towards them.
"No, it's alright." Molly said cheerfully. "Gets too quiet in here sometimes. I was actually going to get a coffee...do you need anyth-?"
Her smile dipped at Sherlock's dismissive nod.
A irking sense of deja vu struck John as he watched Molly retreat quietly from the lab.
"So it's decided then. You're not going to say anything to her."
Sherlock gave a bored sigh. "What would you have me say, John?"
"A thank you might be a start. She did save your life last week."
"That would be unnecessary. I'm sure Molly is aware of my gratitude for her help."
A laugh escaped John, earning him a very petulant glare but he's not silenced so easily. "Sorry. No, of course. I forgot how you say thank you in your demand for more coffee."
Fortunately for John, Sherlock's rebuttal was interrupted by Molly, returning to the lab, empty handed. She stopped, quickly catching onto the tension between the men.
"S-sorry, forgot my purse." She explained.
"Actually Molly-I'll get the coffees." John got up from the stool. If Sherlock wasn't going to do it on his own terms, then he would have to deal with John's. After all, is it so hard for Sherlock just to acknowledge someone else's work?
"Err, two sugars for you, was it?" He edged towards the exit, carefully sidestepping the shared looks of confusion.
"Oh no-well yes, but I can go-"
"No need!" John didn't have to feign his large smile at the sight of a befuddled Molly and more importantly, a positively suspicious looking Sherlock.
But before he left, John made sure to sabotage the very escape plan he suspected Sherlock was already formulating in his mind. "Don't forget, Sherlock-to tell Molly about that thing. Y'know that very important thing."
A smug John rubbed his hands happily as the door fell behind him, leaving two stumped souls in his wake.
He returned forty minutes later. An unjustifiably long time to get coffee but long enough for Sherlock and Molly to have some kind of conversation in his absence. Or at least he had hoped.
With three paper cups of bitter instant, John walked into the lab, his face fell in dismay. Both Molly and Sherlock were secluded away in their tiny nooks of the lab, staring obviously away from each other.
John, walking over to Sherlock, raised his eyebrows in question, a look Sherlock ignored entirely as he snatched up his coffee. Molly was much the same, all appearing much too interested in a blotched liver sample at her desk.
John sunk into his seat, a little dejected. He'll leave the matchmaker business to Mrs. Hudson from now on, if Sherlock's going to be like this.
The next three hours did not pass smoothly for anyone. Molly, who retreated to the back of the lab, was now hiding behind an impressive stack of reports, the only evidence of her presence was limited to sporadic long sighs and the scratching of a pen.
Sherlock and John remained glued to their stools; each partner retrospectively muddling over very different things. For John, it was the anticipation for his date with his new girlfriend, Jeanette.
Their plans that evening did not included the likely chance of running around London with the irritable detective.
Sherlock's frustration with the case, coupled with the 'inefficiency of a defected force' [Sherlock's words, not John's], had begun to worsen the mututal feeling in the lab.
Sherlock had already sacrificed three petri dishes to his bad mood. One in particular that flew, narrowly missing John's head, was undoubtedly retribution for before. Not John's problem, his night wouldn't end in this lab, dealing with Sherlock's mood for much longer. No, John had plans, 'bottle of red, warm bed, lovely girlfriend' plans.
However, all thoughts of Jeanette flew swiftly from John's mind at the sudden shrill of Sherlock's phone.
"What's happening, Sherlock?"
"Lestrade's got a case for us." Sherlock got up from his seat, pulling on his coat.
"Think it will last long?" John said hesitantly. He did already have reservations at Angelo's.
"A triple murder? I should hope so." Sherlock said, the corners of his mouth hitched up an excited smirk. "Coming?"
John sighed helplessly. "I can't. I got plans tonight with-ah, alright." A quick text to Jeanette should delay their date for a bit. Maybe best with a phone call.
"Are you coming?" Sherlock repeated.
"I said I was-" But as John looked up from his phone, he saw Sherlock's gaze rise up above him and fall over to the other side of the lab. On Molly.
"Wh-what now? I'm still at work till-"
"You finish in fifteen minutes. I doubt your patients will mind, let alone notice, if you left early." Sherlock said, tightening his scarf around his neck.
"Yes, okay- give me, just give me-" Molly stammered off before rushing away to the back office.
John turned slowly to Sherlock, face full of curiosity but he was not spared an explanation, as the detective gave all his attention to his phone.
Molly returned with a bag and coat, hanging off her arm. "Ready!"
Sherlock smirked, dropping his phone into his pocket to lift up the collar of his coat.
"Excellent."
Upon their arrival at the crime scene, Sherlock strode off, leaving Molly and John trailing behind him towards the house, where on the doorstep, stood an agitated Detective Inspector, a tartan scarf barely masking his surprise at the approaching party.
"Now, hang on, Sherlock! I can't have so many people on the scene-" Lestrade said, although giving John and Molly a polite nod.
"I need an assistant." Sherlock unhelpfully explained.
"You already got one!"
"I needed another." Sherlock said dismissively and he begun to push past the Inspector, only to be stopped by a loud call.
"No! Absolutely not!" Anderson thundered out of the house, turning on Lestrade in protest. "The doctor's one thing but we don't need a pathologist! We have a perfectly adequate team!" He rudely turned his back on John and Molly to face Sherlock.
"Entirely right, Anderson. Perfectly adequate. Then there's no misunderstanding as to why I had to bring along Dr. Hooper." Sherlock retorted, pushing past the stumped forensic officer.
John hid a small smile as he lead Molly inside, who was now a fair shade of red.
Inside the house, yellow tape circled around the closed kitchen with white-washed floors, revealing the sight of three slain bodies. Sherlock fell into routine instantly, dictating Lestrade and the other officers through the rooms of the house before kneeling beside the bodies, to trace their skin with his magnifier.
John stood off at the back of the kitchen with Molly, watching Sherlock silently deduce the bodies.
He leaned over to whisper to her, "He didn't force you to come along, did he"? His words, lighthearted on surface, hid his serious concern that Sherlock may have gone too far this time.
Molly shook her head, shooting Sherlock's back a cautious look before answering innocently. "No, nothing like that. Just asked if I wanted to join you two."
Their conversation was prematurely cut off by a sudden kerfuffle, as Sherlock angrily rebuffed Anderson's third attempt to get back inside the room. Then, Molly was ushered to Sherlock's side, the detective thrust a pair of gloves into her hands before steering her towards the bodies. She threw an anxious look to John but Sherlock caught onto it instead.
"Are you uncomfortable, Dr. Hooper?" Sherlock asked sarcastically.
At his tone, John watched Molly shake away all concern from her face, leaving her to reply confidently to Sherlock. "No. Should I be?"
Sherlock's eyebrows rose up but he said no more than, "Good."
John, unaccustomed to the presence of a third, helplessly watched Molly and Sherlock work over the bodies. Sherlock was particularly joyful, animatedly conversing with Molly as they shared observations. It was odd, to see his partner almost playfully engage with the pathologist, even if it was over a corpse.
Lestrade finally came in for Sherlock's final observations but instead of leading on his usual speech, Sherlock uncharacteristically turned to Molly. "Your findings first, Molly."
John and Lestrade shared a look as Molly smiled politely at Sherlock, "Oh? Okay. Well we found-"
As the end of evening had Molly tucked away in a speeding cab, heading home, John finally found his chance to question Sherlock.
"What's this then?"
"Just a one-off arrangement, John." Sherlock huffed at him, taking offence to John's suggestive tone. "Don't make something out of nothing."
"Huh."
Little did John know, that the one-off arrangement would never live up to its name.
Thank you for reading. :)