As John and Sherlock left the cafe, with the plan to head to St Bartholomew's mortuary to examine the body, John wondered if his day could possibly get any more humiliating. Because now, in front of him, stood Sarah. This cannot be happening.
"John! What a surprise, it's good to see you," she said, smiling genuinely and placing her hand on John's shoulder.
"You too," John replied, managing to smile back.
Sherlock gave her a tight smile that did not meet his eyes, clearly frustrated at their work on the case being delayed once again.
John had managed a brief phone conversation with Sarah not long after the Moriarty incident, giving her a vague version of the facts and letting her know that he was fine but wouldn't be able to make it into the surgery for the next few days. She had been lovely, concerned, and understanding— even asking after Sherlock to make sure he was okay too. But just then, Sarah noticed the reason for the close proximity of the two men and raised her eyebrows, glancing at the cuffs.
"...Working on a case?" she queried, looking as though she wasn't sure whether to be confused or amused.
John was relieved to note that at least she didn't look particularly annoyed or judgemental.
"Precisely," Sherlock answered, before John got the chance. "We're actually on our way to St Bart's mortuary so we'd better be hurrying along, John."
He tried to move John further down the street, but John stood his ground
"Sherlock," John began in a tone of restrained calm that he hoped would act as the warning that he intended it to be.
It's like dealing with a bloody child.
"Sorry, Sarah, I..."
He stopped, sighed deeply, and ran his free hand through his hair.
"It's hard to explain."
Sarah glanced between the two of them, unsure.
"Well you're obviously busy, so I won't keep you. But call me when you can, John. I've been worried about you," she said softly, stroking John's arm affectionately.
John couldn't help but notice that Sherlock seemed to pay particular attention to the gesture, though his face remained an unreadable mask. And with that Sarah was gone, leaving John wishing that he'd explained himself and the situation better. What must she be thinking? But before he had time to muse further, Sherlock was pulling him insistently down the street, using his free arm to hail a taxi. John followed helplessly but felt his temper flare up dangerously.
"Sherlock, that was unbelievably rude," he said once they had awkwardly climbed into the back seat of a black cab that had pulled up.
Sherlock groaned, his frustration clearly still present.
"We don't have time for this; we're on a case."
"Why do you hate Sarah?"
Sherlock rolled his eyes.
"I don't hate her, John, do grow up."
"Well you obviously have some kind of problem with her."
Sherlock stared out the taxi window. Evidently there was something he wasn't saying.
"What could you possibly have against..."
John stopped himself, having suddenly realised something, and Sherlock looked at him with a question on his face.
"Never mind," John said quickly, fighting back a smirk.
"What were you going to say?"
"Nothing, it's just...You don't like sharing your friends, do you, Sherlock?"
"Well, given that I've never had a friend before now, I really couldn't tell you," Sherlock retorted.
"You're...jealous...aren't you?"
Sherlock went back to staring out the window, and said nothing.
"Oh come on, just admit it," John teased. "You don't want me spending time with Sarah because it means that I'll have less time for this madness with you."
Sherlock scoffed at his words.
"That's ridiculous. Do you really think I'm that co-dependent, John? I managed just fine before I met you, you know" he retaliated, sounding annoyed.
John was momentarily stung but felt better when he realised a few seconds later that Sherlock's statement wasn't quite true. Sherlock had turned away once again, but John couldn't help noticing that he looked distinctly unnerved. Had he actually gotten it right for once? John wisely let the matter drop, and before he knew it the taxi was pulling up outside St Bart's Hospital. Being at St Bart's of course meant being confronted with yet another person they knew— Molly. John was starting to feel like he was destined for the two of them to run into absolutely everybody they knew today, and he absently wondered when Mycroft might show up to taunt them.
When they finally arrived at the mortuary, Molly looked up from the paperwork she was holding, her facial expression strange. It seemed at first to hold surprise, then pain, then contempt and something almost accusatory, before being quickly covered over with an unconvincing mask of cold indifference.
"Didn't expect to see you two here so soon," she said flatly.
Ah, thought John. So she's heard then.
"Cases to be solved, murderers to catch. You know how it is," Sherlock replied, clearly unfazed by Molly's chilly demeanour.
Molly said nothing and instead surveyed the two of them for a moment, only now noticing the handcuffs that bound them. She seemed to struggle with herself not to say anything but eventually her curiosity got the better of her.
"What's this all about then?"
"Experiment," Sherlock stated, and once again did not elaborate.
"Well you'd know all about that, wouldn't you?" she replied bluntly.
Sherlock turned and fixed her with one of his stares but Molly didn't back down. John had to give her credit— he knew just how intimidating it could be to be on the receiving end of that piercing gaze.
"If you've got something to say to me, Molly, why don't you just say it?"
Molly held his gaze for a moment longer and then looked down at her feet.
"Did you know about Jim from IT?" she asked quietly.
Sherlock sighed and John could sense that he found the conversation pointless and that he wanted to get it over with so as quickly as possible so that they could examine the victim's body for clues. John wasn't sure whether he hoped that Sherlock would play nice. It had been apparent to him almost immediately that Molly had feelings for Sherlock and also that Sherlock was very capable of playing up to that fact to get what he wanted. Perhaps being harsh with her was the only way to make her see that she was never going to get what she wanted.
"Of course I didn't know," Sherlock replied tersely, almost angrily. He didn't like admitting when he hadn't worked something out straight away, and John knew that something within him was disappointed with himself for falling for Moriarty's act.
"Not that it would have mattered to you if you did. I should have realised that you don't care about anybody but yourself," Molly said, this time unable to keep the emotion out of her voice.
John raised his eyebrows at the accusation and looked at Sherlock who was standing very still beside him. Sherlock said nothing. John wondered whether Molly was more upset about Jim himself or about the fact that Sherlock was so apparently unconcerned that Molly had been 'dating' such a character.
"Well I hope you two will be very happy together," she said as she turned away, looking down at her paperwork to hide how upset she was.
John was unsure as to whether she was referring to himself and Sherlock, or to Sherlock and Moriarty. The silence hung heavily in the air for a moment.
"We need to examine the Cavendish body. If you would be so kind," Sherlock said, making an effort to keep his voice pleasant.
Molly shook her head as she let out a sigh of disbelief, and left the room, presumably to fulfil Sherlock's request.
"Well that was uncomfortable," John said, turning to Sherlock.
"Was it?"
John scoffed. "Surely even you can tell that she's upset."
"I must admit that it has been interesting watching people's reactions to my experiment."
"I don't think that's what she's upset about, Sherlock."
Sherlock watched John for a moment.
"It's almost certainly part of it," he stated simply, leaving John wondering if maybe Sherlock understood the situation better than he did after all.
Just then Molly re-entered the room pushing a steel gurney with the body on it, which she wheeled to them. John tried to catch her eye to smile understandingly but she left without a further word or glance at the two men. He watched her leave, feeling bad until Sherlock turned to him with a smile.
"Let's get down to business shall we?"
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