Molly Hooper immediately recognized Anthea as she strode into the hospital waiting area and called to her. Upon buying her attention, she waved her over.
"Molly." Anthea smiled, warmly, as she gave the pathologist a small hug.
"Mycrofts outlook looks well, considering." She told her, before breaking the hug and sitting down with her. "He just got out of surgery a bit ago. Should be alright." Molly caught Antheas heavy exhaled as the agent closed her eyes. "So…uh, you're his emergency contact."
"Yes," She nodded and smiled, immediately turning her attention to her phone.
"Bit odd… don't you think?" Molly was obviously prying, but, try as she might, poor Anthea had already given herself a bit away. "I mean, its usually family members… partners….friends."
"We work very close, we're friendly." Anthea defended herself, but didn't look up from her phone very long.
"Of course… I suppose that makes sense, I mean—"
"And what are you doing here?" Anthea flipped the conversation.
"Sherlock texted. Asked me to come down and told me what happened."
"Wheres John?"
"Home."
"Has Sherlock even rang him?"
"Don't think so,"
"Interesting…"
"-But, he prefers to text anyway." Molly attempted to keep her footing. She wasn't completely certain what Anthea was insinuating, but she wanted to avoid the conversation.
"You are the pathologist I remember? The one that helped Sherlock fake his death?" There was a hitch in Molly's breath before she answered.
"Yes."
"What makes you so important, Molly?"
"I —uh—"
"I mean, you help him with his job, you've gone out on cases with him…"
"Umm…"
"He asked you to help save his life."
"Well…"
"You and you alone." The pause was filled with Molly's long inhale.
"I don't know." She exhaled the words, carefully.
"Did he give you a reason?"
"Yes."
"What did he say?"
"That I'm the one that matters the most." Anthea considered this a minute, her gaze steady and a bit formidable; reading Molly, she knew. But, the silence was broken by a familiar, and sometimes dreaded, voice.
"Mycroft has asked for you, Anthea." Sherlock bought both the girls attention.
"Thank you." The brunette smiled and left with the click of her dangerous stilettos echoing down the empty hall.
Molly hadn't meant to, but she realized she was still staring at Sherlock and, most confusing, he was staring right back.
"Coffee?" He asked and she responded with a nod.
"2 creams and a sugar, please." Without looking up, she grabbed a paper off a nearby table and began reading, holding her breath until she heard the sound of his Belstaff fluttering away.