It was two in the afternoon when Sherlock burst through the doors of the morgue, eager to make use of Molly's lab. He had just removed several samples of concrete from the roof of Bart's to determine whether the blood stains upon them were genuine and he was trying to convince himself that the rush of a new case was the only reason he was excited to get into the lab.
"Molly, there's a long afternoon ahead of us, how about some coff-"
He stopped short at the sight of Molly hunched over one of the long, empty autopsy tables, surrounded by a small mountain of papers. His alarm quickly dissipated when he realized she was not unconscious, but merely asleep, her arms folded with her head upon them, ear-buds softly humming in her ears. He approached cautiously, not wanting to wake her. Curious, he clicked the home button on her iPod to see that she was listening to an album of violin concertos, many of which he played often in his own flat. With a sigh, he set off to begin his experiment at the other end of the lab, but at the last minute turned and removed his coat, draping it gently over Molly's shoulders. She made a small noise and turned her head to face the other side, revealing several red lines on her face from the wrinkles of her lab coat, but did not wake. Smiling, Sherlock gathered his supplies quietly and began his study.
If it wasn't for the stupendous cramp in her neck or the pile of paperwork to be completed, Molly would have considered going right back to sleep as soon as she woke up, as she was so delightfully warm and the smell surrounding her was marvelous. She kept her eyes closed as she breathed in the scent: clean, crisp-with just a hint of cigarette smoke. A smell that was uniquely-
Her eyes snapped open as she realized whose scent engulfed her. As she adjusted and stretched she felt the heavy wool coat fall from her shoulders. Reaching down to pick it up off the floor she finally noticed Sherlock sitting on a stool in the corner of the lab, restacking a pile of glass slides next to the microscope he had claimed as his own. Molly recognized the look on his face of him being in his Mind Palace, so she stood up silently and folded his coat over to lay it on the table before her. It was then that she realized the plethora of paperwork she had left around her was no longer thrown into disorganized piles, but neatly stacked and-finished? She leafed through the top few pages to find each one completed in handwriting easily passable as her own, though slightly more curved and neat.
"You finished my paperwork?" She said as she walked around the table to stand before Sherlock's bench.
Sherlock shook his head infinitesimally as he came back to reality, focusing on the now wide-awake Molly.
"Well, my samples needed to culture. Had a little extra time." He turned to stand and replace the box of slides on the high shelf behind him.
"And you're cleaning up after yourself? Since when do you clean up the lab?" Molly approached and attempted to help place a second box on the same shelf, only to find that she could not reach. Sherlock took the box out of her hand and placed it next to the slides effortlessly, his arm stretching high over Molly's head.
"You were asleep. I got bored."
Molly gave him a confused look before removing the papers to her outbox and collecting her bag. Looking around, she saw that there was astonishingly nothing left for her to complete. The paperwork alone would have normally taken her long past the end of her shift, but with it being finished and the lab clean, she sighed and smiled as she picked up her coat and bag near her office door.
"I take it you're ready to go home then?" Sherlock asked, picking up his coat and slinging it on over his shoulders.
Without a word, Sherlock held open the door with his hand held high, indicating for her to exit beneath his outstretched arm. Molly raised an eyebrow and exited, not even needing to duck. I don't know what's gotten into him, but I could get used to it.