New

.

.

.

.

It had been a rough week.

One moment Molly felt relatively close to her husband then the next—he's disregarding and blatantly ignoring her. There was a moment in that one week that the crestfallen Holmes wife felt the need to remedy the situation. However, her husband would have none of that!

"Molly," Sherlock had began to speak; eyes still downcast at the microscope. "You're talking. Why are you talking?"

It was very rude, yes, and all the female pathologist could do was gape at her husband and at the boldness he showed towards her. She figured it was the recent case. Something that the police had put on hold because of not enough evidence to pin-point the accurate culprit. When news hit that this particular case—Sherlock refused to tell her what it was about exactly—was re-opened the detective went head first into it without much of a warning.

That meant late nights, frequent bouts of coffee, and the never ending mess of papers and miscellaneous objects strewn about the flat. It was tiresome for both of them. Especially for Molly, who had to clean around her husband, and sometimes had to deal with being told to get out of the way for interrupting him on one of his train of thoughts.

Was this what she was constantly going to put up with? A husband who only found her interesting for a cup of coffee, or only when he really had nothing else to do, or someone to bother. There was that feeling of insignificance rearing up again in Molly's gut.

Talk only when talked to.

Act only when acted upon.

Stay quiet when you've lost the attention of your brilliant detective of a husband and become the lackey he expects you to be when John Watson wasn't around.

He had shocked her on the weekend as he suddenly said, "You're not John Watson. I doubt you'll ever be a John Watson."

What had she done to ever receive such a distasteful and cruel remark thrown in her direction? Molly had tried to help her husband beyond what was expected of her. How ridiculous! How heartless of him! One little week of trying to impress him with the fact that she was more than just a little house wife and he goes and spits in her face.

Fine.

He can be that way for all she cared.

Sherlock Holmes had successfully broken down the ladder to improvement with just a few words and a few moments of looking at his wife like she was an idiot.

Very well done, Mr. Holmes! Molly thought bitterly as she threw open the bedroom door and walked out into the living room. She was pleased to notice that her Monday would be free and away from her husband. Probably off case-solving without her and with his best-buddy-4-life, John Watson.

In all truth, Molly didn't hate nor dislike John in the least. He was a loyal man who regarded his friendship with Sherlock a very serious thing. For that, Molly respected the army doctor. John was not only loyal to Sherlock, but he loved his wife with as much ardent regard and respect.

Something... Molly was highly jealous of.

Hopefully, things at work would be more promising. Be more... lighter of a load.

"Another poor unfortunate." Molly looked at her colleague with a bit of sadness on her face. Will, one of the older and experienced pathologists, pulled the white sheet down to reveal a petite woman with a rather large hole at the top of her head.

"Suicide?" Molly looked down at the papers on the clipboard and frowned as she looked back at the female. "Her age definitely fits the bill on it."

"Well, that's what everyone thought till they got a good history report of the husband." Will said before he grimaced as he gave one final look at the body and sighed. Molly always knew this job would be too much eventually for the ones who had been here the longest.

"Listen... Molly..." he began before he took of his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. "I'm taking a break... No. Not like a coffee break of that sort. Just... a long break from this line of work. Just, a long enough break to get my head straight and where I can look at bodies without... feeling so... sympathetic for them." Will sounded as if he'd begin to sob at any given moment.

Molly felt that perhaps... she'd never ever stop feeling sympathetic for the poor folks who had died far too young and before their time. It wasn't right. It never was, sadly. Perhaps, this poor girl reminded Will too much of his youngest that had tragically died in a hunting accident. The girl lying on the metal slab probably was the spitting image of his daughter on that painful day.

She didn't blame him for wanting to step aside. Who could?

"It's not forever, Molly. Just enough time to breathe. In the meantime, however, I had them call in a replacement. I hear he's a nice chap. Recently married and all. About your age and just as intelligent as you, my dear." Will smiled at Molly and he patted her shoulder lightly.

"You'll be fine. I'm sure of it." Will stated with confidence and reached over to cover the poor girl on the metal table.

"Speak of the devil! There, he is." Will motioned with his eyebrows at the door and Molly turned slowly to see a very tall man walk through.

Good grief... Molly had to swallow her heart almost instantly. That man shouldn't even exist. Molly thought this is what it must have felt like to be looking at a fantastical unicorn that had materialized right before her. Well, one thing was for certain. He wasn't a unicorn, but he was rather... other worldly looking.

"Welcome, Hamish!" Will exclaimed with a familiarity and pulled the young gentleman near Molly where they could be formally introduced.

"Molly, this is Hamish Elms Coloreck. Hamish, this is Molly Holmes."

Molly more than dropped her clipboard as Hamish reached out to shake her hand. There was a second of fumbling over words and looking down in embarrassment before she gave her right hand up to be shook.

"Charmed, indeed." Hamish had a handsome smile. Oh, who was she kidding? Hamish was a handsome devil and she could barely concentrate on anything else.

Funny, though. He was so... stereo typical. Lightly tan complexion, honey orbs, and sun bleached hair. He looked perfect enough to be an endorser rather than be caught probing and cutting up bodies. He was just too perfect! Heavens! Molly had to take a minute to imagine what his wife looked like. The woman was probably the embodiment of the Venus.

"Sherlock Holmes' wife." Will nudged the chap in the arm and chuckled.

"Oh!" Hamish recoiled briefly in shock. "Well! Then I really am working with the best!"

Molly couldn't stop herself from blushing then. Why, yes, Hamish. Flattery did get you everywhere. Too bad for Mrs. Holmes, she didn't quite catch the look the replacement gave her as she turned away to prep the body up for analysis.

Too bad, indeed.

A dedication is entitled to the first who can solve this case.

HINT: Clues have been blatantly left in all the chapters.

If you're interested in playing this game or just watching how things unfold... then prepare ;) to those of you who are wondering if this will be a fanfic of Molly full on out cheating on Sherlock then the answer is NO. I would stick around and wait before I would jump to any conclusions.

Leave your feedback or flaming marshmallows at the door and I will surely update with the next installment!

To my wonderful reviewers, thank you so very much for the time and effort you've put into reading this and commenting!