Clara did not approach Jeanette Frazier's body. She had seen many horrible things before, but she doubted she could stomach seeing the mangled form of her coworker. It was bad enough hearing Sherlock rattle off the injuries. Clara tried to tune him out and think of anything besides her friend lying cold and dead there.
A gentle hand on her shoulder pulled Clara's attention away. She turned to look gratefully at the women beside her. "Are you okay?" the pathologist asked.
"I will be," Clara replied.
"I'm Molly Hooper," the other women introduced herself.
"Clara Oswald."
Clara watched as Molly's eyes darted to Sherlock for a second before returning to her. "Do you do this kind of thing often?" she asked.
"Yes," Clara answered with a nod. "It's a dangerous line of work, traveling with the Doctor. I could tell you about it sometime."
Molly's lips quirked up into a smile. "Would you like to go get coffee? Sherlock's just gone into his mind palace, so they may be a while."
Clara agreed. From the moment she had walked out of the TARDIS and straight into the morgue, she knew that she was going to like the pathologist. Molly had raised her eyebrows, but she accepted Sherlock's explanation without any question. Most people tended to freak out when a blue box materialized in front of them.
Upon leaving the room, Clara felt instantly better. The break room was only up on the same floor, but as they walked through the hallways, the thoughts of Jeanette disappeared. "So, how do you know Sherlock?" Clara asked.
"He comes by a lot. Mostly he just wants to experiment with a corpse for a case of his." As she spoke, a small smile crept up her face. Molly probably wasn't even aware of it.
"Does he know?" Clara asked.
Molly hesitated as she pushed open the door to the break room. "Know what?"
"That you love him?" Clara clarified softly.
Molly's face remained impassive. "Yes. He does." She filled two cups and handed one to Clara. The pleasant warmth hit her nose. She took a long sip, feeling her heart break for Molly.
"I know what that's like," she said finally.
Molly nodded in understanding. "You used to love him. The Doctor."
Clara hummed in agreement. "That obvious, huh?" she joked. "Yes, I did love him once. He was different then. Of course I still love him, but it's not the same as it once was. I think it's better for us that way."
"You were staring at John," Molly said, smiling devilishly.
"I kissed him," Clara whispered excitedly. Molly's grin grew. "I met him a few days ago, and I kissed him."
"Does he know?" Molly whispered back.
"Nah, the Doctor is oblivious when it comes to these things. But I'm sure Sherlock knows."
The two continued to chatter like teenagers. By the time Clara's coffee cup was empty, her mood was significantly lighter. When Molly suggested they return to the morgue, Clara agreed.
She followed behind Molly in comfortable silence. I bet between the two of us, we could tell enough stories to last a life time, Clara thought to herself. We should have dinner sometime and talk about murder and aliens.
A loud clattering broke through the silence, and the smile slipped off of Clara's face. She broke into a run with Molly simultaneously. There was only one more corner to turn, then the two women stood in front of the locked room, pulling at the doors. Inside, the light was off, and a vicious growling could be faintly heard from the other side.
"Doctor! John!" Clara shrieked at the same time Molly screamed, "Sherlock!"
Molly pulled a pin from her hair and set to work on the lock.
XOXOXOXOXOXOXOX
The Doctor didn't look up when he heard the door open. The readings from his sonic screwdriver held his attention captive. He glared, trying to make heads or tails of it. He lightly hit the screwdriver, and it gave a whir of protest. Lights flashed, then the Doctor's blood turned cold.
He looked up and met Sherlock's eyes. Given the serious look in them, he had come to the same conclusion. "Where did Molly say she was going?" he whispered, his voice raising a pitch with worry.
The Doctor opened his mouth to answer, but the clicking of a lock cut him off. His eyes flew to the door, but nobody was there. "She's locked us in," he said.
"Who?" John asked. His brows were furrowed in confusion as he glanced between the Doctor and the door.
"Oh. Perception filter. You can't see her," Sherlock whispered. The Doctor aimed his screwdriver at the door. "Left a little," Sherlock supplied without raising his voice any. "Right there."
The whirring of the sonic mixed with the sparking of a the perception filter. The Doctor blinked, and Dadre came into focus. The alien grinned wickedly. "Bravo!" she greeted.
Dadre was noticeably favoring her uninjured side. The red gash from the kitchen knife was still visible. Dried blood speckled the scales around it. Nice shot, Clara, the Doctor thought absently. His eyes met hers. The hunger that gleamed in him made the hairs on his neck stand up. The experience reminded him of facing down Satan in the dark pit.
"I don't suppose you've come to turn yourself in?" the Doctor asked.
At that, Dadre chuckled. The high pitch did nothing to help the hairs on his neck settle down. "No. I have come to assure my freedom."
"Then you're an idiot," the Doctor said simply.
"So are you," Dadre replied, sending a smirk at the gaping expressions of Sherlock and John. "You think you're immortal," she continued with venomous honey dripping off her voice. "You think you're a god."
"I am an idiot," the Doctor said. "But I've faced devils and gods and won. I've turned whole armies around at the mention of my name. And you, a petty serial killer, think you can best me?" He laughed at the absurdity of it.
At that moment, the lights shut out. A few choice swear words echoed throughout the room as the Doctor fumbled with his screwdriver. Dadre growled loudly and knocked over a table, which in turn knocked over the Doctor. He hit the floor, and the screwdriver clattered across the floor. He crawled free and grabbed for it, aiming it at the lights.
More tables fell over. The Doctor felt something glass break on his arm. A cool wetness covered his sleeve as he grunted in pain, fumbling with the screwdriver once more.
From somewhere to his right, John Watson cried out in surprise just as the Doctor got the lights back on. He looked to his side in horror. The large reptile was perched on top of the army doctor. Her claws dug into his shoulder, leaving small beads of blood gathered around them. The pain was evident in his face. "Anybody else moves, and I snap his neck," Dadre threatened in her sugary poisonous voice.
While her eyes were focused on the Doctor, Sherlock threw himself at her. Dadre's eyes widened in surprise as the two toppled over. They rolled on the floor in a tangle of limbs. To the Doctor, it was unclear who was the stronger.
Sherlock reached a hand into his coat and, to the Doctor's horror, produced a blow dart. With as much force as he could muster, he shoved it into the aliens stomach. Dadre shrieked in pain as she scrambled away from him. Her fearful eyes widened as she pulled the dart from her body with shaking hands. She brought it to her face and sniffed. "You've killed me," she whispered.
The doors were thrown open by a very frantic Clara and Molly. Clara rushed to John, who was still on the floor, jumping over a table, ignoring the large alien who had slumped to the ground in defeat. Molly, after getting over her initial shock, cautiously moved around Dadre to Sherlock's side. The Doctor watched the scene with growing interest. Everyone else seemed shaken, maybe bruised, but relatively unharmed. He looked down at his scarlet arm. Somebody should probably look at that later, but for now, he turned his attention to Dadre.
He approached the solemn alien, keeping his expression neutral. "I am sorry that it came to this," he said evenly.
Dadre met his eyes, and the glee the Doctor found their chilled him to the bone. "Oh, I knew it would happen eventually. I would get it in over my head. Meet my match." She chuckled.
"Why are you laughing?" the Doctor asked, a growing sense of dread bubbling in the pit of his stomach.
"I have a son," Dadre explained weakly. "An assassin, like I was. We both work alone, but long ago, we swore we would avenge each other's deaths."
Finally, the great alien collapsed. Her large eyes shut for the last time as her body fell backwards. An icy smile still rested upon her features. Just like that, their positions had switched. They hunters now had to prepare themselves to be hunted.