Molly laughs at another joke of Stiles when her mobile beeps. She takes it out, a new message. From Sherlock. "Oh shoot the blood sample," she mutters under her breath.
"Blood sample?" Jackson queries.
"Blood sample?" Stiles startles.
Jackson smirks, "She is a pathologist."
"Oh so you work with dead bodies," Stiles says to Molly. She nods and smiles.
She rises and says, "Excuse me boys, I need to go back to the lab. Insufferable Mr. Holmes needs me there. Bye!"
After she leaves, Stiles asks Jackson, "Who is Mr. Holmes?"
"Google him. You won't regret it." Jackson smirks.
"By the way what makes you think I will help you," Stiles leans forwards, "We aren't friends remember? I didn't mention this in front of her which doesn't mean I am willing to assist you."
Jackson rolls his eyes and clasps his fingers on his lap. He sighs, "Look I know how you helped Scott. And I want Molly to do this right. You are the best help I can ever get. Besides, Derek of course."
Stiles narrows his eyes, "You know she is quite older than you right?"
Jackson gapes open mouthed at him, shaking his head, "What?"
"You sweet on her? I mean she is all cute and everything with that pixie nose and all."
"Stiles, shut up. She is like an elder sister to me."
"Oh," now Stiles understands. But Jackson continues.
He puts his hands on the table, "Look when I came to London, I had no one. Well technically I have relatives here, but I don't like them. Molly helped me a lot. From getting hang of British currency and public transport to my studies. She even took care of me when I was sick. Once I got into a fight and broke my knee. If she didn't show up that day and know about the werewolf thing, I would have ended up in a hospital and declared a scientific curiosity. So, yeah. I owe her this much."
Stiles stares at him, digesting all this in. Jackson the grateful one, he had never thought that could be possible. He says, "Wow, you have changed."
"Well if you were a lizard monster killing around people on somebody's command, it would change something in you too."
Stiles looks down at the table. Yes, he is starting to understand this guy in front of him. He sighs, "Here I thought I was getting a break from all things supernatural."
Jackson grins, "You are Stiles Stilinski, you can never catch a break."
Stiles glares at him for awhile, but deep down acknowledging that something is definitely wrong with him. He always ends up in situations like this. Always.
"So cute pixie nose?" Jackson asks, with a wolfish grin, "Isn't she a little old for you?"
"Oh shut up. I knew you haven't changed!"
Well, yeah, Stiles mused silently, she is kinda cute. He shakes his head, what is he even…nope too old for him.

Molly rushes in, only to find Sherlock leaning against the table with a stony look on his handsome face. She knows she is in a whole lot of trouble. She should have done the testing and then left for lunch, not the other way around. But Jackson had came along and suggested they lunch together and she went along. He is such an adorable kid; she could not possibly refuse him. And now she will pay the price.
A new scent hits her nose. She sniffs the air. Tobacco. She mimics his expression and says, "Have you been smoking?"
Her words have shocked him are apparent when he straightens up and his eyes go wide in surprise. He thinks how could she possibly know? He had smoked outside, he was bored waiting for her.
She asks, "Aren't you on nicotine patches?"
"Not right now," he replies, "But how did you know?"
Oh shit, Molly starts to sweat. No showing off her werewolf skills, she had promised. She stammers, "U-uh never mind. I will get to the samples."
She shakes slightly as she gets to work. She says, "I-I didn't think it was that urgent. I-I mean you did not specify if it was. I am sorry."
His nervous pathologist makes an appearance again. He wants to ask about those two teenagers, but he refrains as he feels that Molly would not appreciate the fact that he was spying on her. Idle chitchat later, he needs that blood sample tested.
She puts the blood in the mass spectrometer and waits for the results. Sherlock is standing away, unlike other times when he would be breathing down her neck, asking in that deadly baritone of his what was taking her so long. She gives him a tiny glance behind her back. He is busy texting someone, apparently. She looks down the blood slide on the microscope. She frowns. The red blood cells are behaving differently. It looks like they are regenerating, or trying to. So that is why Sherlock came to her. She waits patiently by her computer for the results.
The monitor pings and she leans down to check the results. Her eyes go wide in surprise. It says it is a DNA cocktail of human and lupine. It does not take her long to figure out that the blood came from a werewolf. She shields the monitor with her body as she hears Sherlock shift and walk towards her. She panics. He cannot under any circumstances know this.
It is too late. Sherlock is already breathing down her neck, staring straight at the screen. She feels the panic rise in waves again. She tries calming down. She decides to concentrate on Sherlock's heartbeat instead. It is a dull thudding sound which manages to calm her down a little.
Sherlock tries to, but fails to incredibly. He cannot help but notice the Chanel No. 5 on her. And the smell that is specially her. Coffee, woolen sweaters and disinfectant. It is not all that bad. He leans in more and sniffs, his breathing getting heavier and his heart pounding a bit faster now. He drags his attention to the screen when the glint of her diamond ring catches his eyes.
Molly hears the distinct shift in his breathing pattern and heart rate. Does he suspect something already? She tries desperately to stop the hair on her neck sticking up so much. You are engaged for God's sakes, she scolds herself, you STIIL CANNOT be attracted to Sherlock Holmes.
He frowns as he looks at the screen. She hears Molly asking, "What case is this?"
He says, "An animal attack victim that came in yesterday."
She says, her voice shaking slightly, "Did a wolf attack him?"
"Maybe. If there are wild wolfs roaming around in east London."
Molly jerks her head up. East London? That means around here. A fuzzy memory tries to rise to the surface. But she cannot entirely fathom it. It is there but beyond her reach.
Sherlock notices the look of extreme concentration on her face. She is trying to remember something. Does she know anything about this? He asks, "Molly?"
Molly snaps out of it and says, "What?"
"What are you thinking?"
"U-umm nothing. Nothing Sherlock, I-I need to go home. I uh, don't feel so great."
Sherlock looks on in suspicion as she collects her things and hurries out of the door. He was right, there is more to this case than wild wolves roaming around in London. But what?

Molly walks to her apartment and halts in her tracks when she spots a tall man in a dark coat standing at her entrance. What? How did he—the man turns around, it is Tom. She sighs deeply, feeling slightly relieved. But not entirely. This is her fiancé Tom, someone she has not talked with properly since John and Mary's wedding.
Tom sees her. He smiles, "Hey you. Where have you been? I called you so many times yesterday. Everything okay?" He pulls her into his embrace. Molly sighs again. She really hates this. His kindness and total tolerance towards her. She was ready to move on. And then he came back from the dead. Now her feelings were going haywire.
She murmurs, "I am okay." No she is far from okay. She is a werewolf and previously she was trying really hard not to jump Sherlock's bones as her engagement ring glared at her. She sighs again. She has to put a stop to this. She is not happy with this.
"Tom, I have been thinking." She pulls away from his embrace.
He asks, "Yes?"
"Are you happy?"
"Why? Aren't you?"
"Honestly? No, Tom."
Tom sighs, "Is it him?"
Molly frowns. How could he possibly know? Her incredulous expression betrays her feelings as Tom says, "I am not entirely stupid you know. It took me some time, but it was obvious. I am just a replacement."
Molly sniffs, trying to hold back her tears. She is breaking off the engagement and he is still being nice to her. "Tom," she whispers, "I-"
"Do you love him?"
Her shoulders droop. She answers honestly, "I don't know."
Tom puts his hands on her shoulder and kisses her forehead. "Goodbye then."
"Tom wait," Molly pulls out the ring from her finger and places it in his palm, "Take it. I don't deserve it."
Tom hesitates but takes it. He nods his head slightly and walks away with a sad smile on his face.
The tears she had been holding break free and run down her cheeks. Love sometimes is so unfair.

A/N. I am no werewolf doctor so...yeah.