Molly tugged her sweater closer around her shoulders as she made her way to Biology class. The night before had been rough, and she didn't want anyone, especially her lab partner, Sherlock. He saw everything, and knew everything. Well, almost. It was halfway through the school year, and he had yet to pick up on her and everything that was going on. This was the slightest comfort.

She sat down at her desk and pulled out her books just as he walked in.

Sherlock grabbed two labs from the front of the room and sat down next to Molly, giving her one of the packets and a brilliant smile.

"Good morning, Molly Hooper," he said and sat next to her. "Dissections… right up your alley, huh?"

Molly dropped her chin and smiled a little. "Y-yeah. I, uh, I-I'm, really looking forward to it."

Sherlock then frowned and peered at Molly. Something was wrong. He could tell, but he wasn't sure what.

The teacher came to the front of the classroom and told them to start working.

And so the two went back to their lab station and got ready for the lab. It was a pig dissection, something Molly had looked forward to all year. She found dissections really interesting, and this was the biggest animal she'd done.

She began setting up the scalpels and scissors and other tools, and Sherlock chose this to be a chance for him to investigate.

Molly Hooper. Her hair was pulled back as it usually was, in a pony tail. She was wearing a cream jumper with small flowers all over it, jeans, a bracelet, sterling silver earrings-probably mother's- and her usual flats. She seemed perfectly healthy, free of coughs and sneezes, and was showing no signs of PMS. So what exactly was wrong?

And then he saw it: a faint bruise on her shoulder, near to her collar bone. It took him a while to notice properly as she had been moving, but when he stood a little closer, he noticed it was in the shape of a finger, as if someone had grabbed her very tight.

He reached out and gently touched her shoulder. Molly jumped, squeaking lightly. Noticing where his finger was, she shrugged away and pulled her jumper around her tightly.

"What happened?" Sherlock asked quietly.

Molly just looked at him, remembering the night before.

She had just finished her homework and was sitting in the living room, watching TV. Mum was cleaning up and Dad was out. Just as Molly turned off the TV, her dad came in. He sets his stuff down and stares at her. Molly runs to the kitchen and gets a glass of water, and her mum just gives her a look, telling her not to do anything wrong. Molly ducks into the living room and hands her dad the water and settles down with a book. He narrows his eyes. "What nonsense are you reading today then?" Molly holds the book up. "The Hobbit," she says. "Is it required?" She hears her dad ask, and she shook her head. "Then why are you reading it? Shouldn't you be doing something more useful? Keep reading books like that and you're not going to go anywhere in life. What with your grades, I'm surprised you've even made it this far." Molly furrowed her eyebrows together. "M-my grades are fine…" He just snorted. "Yeah, they're 'just fine.' I guess if you want to be, what is it? A pathologist? Guess you don't need a degree to cut people open, d'ya? Lazy bum." Molly shook her head. "N-no, you need a degree… and I am going to uni, you know that." Her dad just shook his head. "Whatever. You know, no man will ever love you if you keep that attitude. Fat, lazy, useless, b**** that you are." Molly bit her lip, holding back tears. She didn't dare say anything. Her dad looks up at her and raises an eyebrow. "What? Someone hit you? Stop crying. Go get me dinner, or else…" And Molly didn't need to be told what the "or else" meant. She rushed to the kitchen again and brought it out. She set it in front of her dad, and he grabbed her by the shoulders, threw her against the couch and slapped her a good few time. "That'll give you something to cry about," he said before tucking into the food. Molly raced off to her room and curled up in her bed, crying herself to sleep.

"Nothing," she says to Sherlock before turning back to the pig.

Sherlock turns in front of her. "Molly. Something's wrong. You can tell me."

Molly bit her lip. She couldn't do this much more. She turned and ran out of the room, wiping tears as she went.

Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows together. John, his best friend, came up and nudged him. "What'd you do this time?"

Sherlock shook his head. "Not me. Something's wrong, John. Something's wrong with Molly…"