Sherlock settled himself down at the lab table. He needed to take his mind off his flatmate. The idea of John getting married had never really entered Sherlock's mind. He was opposed to the entire idea, of course. Too many emotions to deal with. He hadn't the time nor patience for any of it. He let his mind wander a little, as he originally had come here for some peace and quiet. The sound of shoes against the marble floor made him quickly discard that notion.
"Sherlock, you stole my heart!" Molly Hooper angrily burst into the room.
Sherlock only had to glance at Molly for her to turn beet red, the alternative meaning of her statement dawning on her. Sherlock's eyes widened only slightly as he glanced back at his work.
"I borrowed Mr. Henderson's heart, Molly. You can't say that it is your heart, being that it is the property of Mr. Henderson. These are simple facts."
"You didn't even ask me. I can't hide something like that," Molly Hooper whispered. "I wasn't even done with the paperwork. One of the doctors snapped at me because it went missing, claiming it was some sort of joke that I wanted to play on the staff."
"Quiet."
Molly soon quieted herself and began to work around Sherlock. Her mind left what Sherlock had been doing and moved toward her social life. Clare had plans with Molly that night. They were going to watch movies and gawk over celebrities. Molly of course accepted, having no regrets of doing so. Ah, the joys of being completely single. Well, at least that was what she told herself to stave off being a complete mess.
After she was done with her work she glanced back at Sherlock. He was studying the table top intently as if it held the answers to life. For the first time it seemed to Molly that he had nothing on his mind. She knew otherwise, but she noticed that he was far from being at peace. He seemed nearly tormented.
"Where is John?" She asked.
"Molly, don't try to make small talk. It's annoying."
Molly stared at him for a while. It was extremely clear that something was definitely wrong. Part of her wanted to give him a hug, but decided against what would undoubtedly be the most awkward moment of her life. He was, after all, a stereotypical Brit. He did not display emotion. Then again it was rumored that he had Asperger's syndrome and had the mind and temperament of a sociopath. It was then she stumbled upon just what he needed. Molly quietly smiled to herself and left the room, leaving Sherlock to his thoughts.
These thoughts constantly wandered towards the idea of John being emotionally involved with a woman. However, spending his valuable time on this subject would not help him in any way. He managed to divert these notions and pull out the recorder, again letting it play in the morgue.
"Oh, do you have to play that horrid thing?" Molly asked as she made her way back inside the room. She had a coffee in one hand and a bag holding a liver in the other. He had been eyeing that liver for the past few days. It was rare that he didn't take it, but then again he would have imagined that something like this would be easy to obtain. She set the coffee and the bag next to him.
"Did you and John get in a row?" Molly asked, looking into his face, "You always act so strange when you two have a fight."
"It's his fault," Sherlock stated taking a drink of the coffee.
"Why is that?" She asked sweetly.
"I don't want to talk about it, Molly."
She nodded and decided that she had become too bold for her own liking. She managed to scurry away into a corner of the room and began to finish what work she had left for that day. He left the recording to play until his ringing phone interrupted it. He glanced down and quickly answered. It was Lestrade.
Sherlock jumped up and grabbed his coat.
"Molly, come with me," Sherlock rushed out of the room. Her stammering protests were quickly silenced with, "Molly, I know that you are well finished with your work. You've been finished for the past few hours. Your shift ended a few moments after you burst in here saying that I had borrowed Mr. Henderson's heart." He steered her by the crook of her arm.
"How did you know that?" she asked walking quickly to keep up with his long strides.
"Simple, you are not wearing your lab coat."
"Why do you need me, though? Don't you normally go with John?"
"John is too busy being a fool at the moment and so it is either you or Anderson. He is enough of a hassle as it is."
She followed him and it was clear that John must have done something truly upsetting in order for Sherlock to be acting this way. She remained silent throughout the cab ride. The cabbie driver ended up talking quite a lot, trying to fill the silence. She responded a few times, but this has very little importance to our narrative.
It was when they arrived at Whatman park that Molly finally understood what was going on. She was at a crime scene with Mr. Sherlock Holmes. It was more than she could take in, but she tried her best to hide it. This was the practical reason why he had not taken her to a crime scene before. She was getting even more excited then himself. She walked quickly next to him, looking around at the yellow police tape.
"Holmes," Greg nodded as he walked up and glanced at Sherlock's side in surprise, "Molly! why are you here?" She turned a deep shade of red and swallowed as she desperately tried to answer the same question.
"She's helping me today," Sherlock stated this as officially as though she had been assigned to him and made his way to the body.
Greg held himself back from asking more questions as he and Molly Hooper followed Sherlock. Molly could hear the whispers from a few yards off, no doubt a similar murder.
"A miss Mary Morstan ended up coming across the body half an hour ago. She was making her way to a date." Sherlock stopped in his tracks.
"You can't be serious."
Molly Hooper let out an awkward giggle behind them, finally putting the pieces together. Sherlock glared back at her and resumed his trek to the body. Greg, being completely lost, watched with a blank expression and realized that Sherlock had not answered any of his questions.
Molly tried to keep up with Sherlock's speed, her hair bouncing up and down as she ran. Her heart raced a little inside, and not just from unexpected was her first case, the closest that she would ever be to an adventure. Well, at least that was what she thought.
The whispers filled the air. In the distance, Mary stood next to a glass casket holding a woman with blond hair and a long blue gown. Her hand clasped small bunch of flowers: bleeding hearts. Her face was artfully painted and she remained flawless.
"Mr. Holmes, I wasn't supposed to see you until later on tonight," Mary said, looking at the body.
"My thoughts precisely," Sherlock muttered, "Dr. Hooper, help me remove this." She moved to the other side of the casket, grasping and lifting the lid. They settled it lightly on the grass.
"Won't that destroy the fingerprints?" Mary asked as he set it down.
"Ms. Morstan, the man doesn't leave fingerprints." Sherlock went straight to work and Mary eyed Molly for a while. Molly looked over the body for a while, noting intriguing things, but she wouldn't have her opinion voiced until she was back at Barts. After a while her gaze fixed itself on Sherlock as he worked. He, on the other hand, was far too busy to notice her eyes on him. Mary, being an observant woman, immediately saw that Molly had been staring a little longer than what was considered normal. It was very clear that Molly happened to be that doctor that John had told her about. The doctor who happened to have certain feelings for a mister Sherlock Holmes. At that very moment, she decided that they needed to become close friends. She began the process instantly by saving Molly the embarrassment of being caught staring.
"Come on, dear. We have more important things to do than wait." Mary stated as she pulled Molly away from the dead woman.
Molly found herself taken to another part of the park. Mary could only smile at her, which seemed quite odd. After a few moments of silence, Mary began to talk.
"So, you're Molly Hooper. John has told me quite a bit about you."
"Oh really?" Molly Hooper stated, surprised that anyone at all would mention her in a normal conversation. "I never thought..."
Mary stopped for a moment and pointed to a homeless woman who was standing at a far corner of the park. She was older looking and had a long shawl that scraped the ground.
"Do you see what I see?" Mary asked, her eyes never leaving the strange woman.
"Mary, it's not polite to point," Molly quietly admonished, trying to avoid gazing at the woman in question.
"She's hiding something." Mary began to walk back to the dead body.
"What are you doing?"
"Going to ask the genius what he thinks."
They arrived only to find they were too late. Sherlock was already gone. Molly sighed helplessly and began to make her way to the road.
"Where are you going?"
"Home to watch some horrible telly."
"I have a better idea," Mary stated, "You could come and have dinner with John and myself."
"No, I really don't want to bother anyone," Molly said looking around, only to see that the cabs ignored her very existence.
"Oh, you wouldn't bother anyone. I have been hoping that you would come with me to 221 B Baker street." Mary paused for a while, seeing that Molly was trying hard to hail a cab. "Please come with me. I would enjoy my time there if you came along."
Molly looked at Mary for a moment. A smile came to her face, lighting up her features.
"If you really don't mind, then I guess I will come along."