A/N: Thank you SO much for all your reviews/follows/favourites so far! You're all fabulous. So people are asking if this is shipping, I've decided that I'm going to keep this one purely platonic, just their weird version of friendship. I am also planning however, if you wish, to do something along the lines of a Z- A of Getting Together as a sequel? I've got quite a lot written for the end of the alphabet, (particularly looking forward to posting U is for underwear…) it's just taking a while to get a few of the middle chapters out- so apologies for that. Any thoughts/prompts just leave us a message or review :D
G is for Graves and Goo
It was a beautiful Sunday morning, crisp but still warm enough to only need a cardigan. Given how rare these days are in England, Tom and Molly decided to take a walk and enjoy it to the full. They chatted idly, not really saying anything, just enjoying each other's company and the birds- they were very audible at 7 am, not that the London traffic was overly bothersome in the middle of Regent's Park, but it was still more pleasant never the less. What they didn't expect however, was to bump into Sherlock and John on the way home. Especially not Sherlock and John covered in dirt, having exhumed a coffin in a random public cemetery. Molly winced inwardly; this was not going to go well.
She was right, as they approached, the coffin exploded, throwing orange goo all over Sherlock and John. A strangely triumphant noise could be heard from the detective, followed by a noise of discomfort as John punched him in the arm.
"You knew this was going to happen and you didn't think to warn me? I should have known something was up when you turned up looking like one of your homeless network." John shouted angrily, he was not dressed in clothes that he was willing to get covered in orange gunk.
"Hi guys, looking very… orange?" Molly greeted them, trying very hard not to laugh. Sherlock's expression brightened even further,
"Molly! Excellent! There's been a couple of exploding graves recently, unfortunately out of the jurisdiction of Bart's and they wouldn't send the exhumed bodies there, and I need your opinion on it," Sherlock said quickly, taking his rucksack off,
"I haven't got any of my kit," Molly said slowly, there was no way she was sticking her arms in a decomposing corpse without gloves- that would just be unsanitary.
"Good job I stopped by and got it this morning then," Sherlock looked down at her smugly, handing her the rucksack,
"Erm, Molls, are you sure you should be doing that here?" Tom asked tentatively, it wasn't that he wasn't proud of Molly, he just couldn't stomach what she did very well.
"Mycroft said it's fine." Sherlock dismissed Tom's concerns with a wave of his hand,
"Ok, I'll see you at home," Tom smiled weakly, squeezing her hand,
"Oh I won't be long," Molly smiled brightly at him putting on her lab coat and safety specs, she enjoyed the more unusual cases that Sherlock dealt with the most.
"You should watch, I am under the impression couples should appreciate what each other do for work." Sherlock said loftily, watching Molly carry out her preliminary examination
"Corpses aren't everyone's cup of tea, Sherlock," John said carefully, Sherlock frowned slightly,
"It's a fairly fresh one, dead no longer than…"
"Two weeks," Sherlock and Molly answered together, Tom felt a pang in his chest, he was never going to have that sort of connection with her, he was vegetarian so he didn't have to handle meat for crying out loud!
"Maybe if you knew what she was doing, she'd stop confiding in that cat of hers. Unhealthy." Sherlock continued his uncharacteristic support for Molly,
"Sherlock, stop now," John almost pleaded, now was not the time for the most unsocial man in history to become a relationship guru.
"Besides, it's mostly covered in orange goo; there isn't much of a smell either surprisingly," Sherlock ignored John and carried on speaking,
"Sherlock," John said through gritted teeth,
"Yes, John," Sherlock answered, as a teacher to a pupil, John was not impressed. He was covered in orange goo at an unreasonable time of morning in a cemetery.
"Cat thing, unhealthy, yes. However-" The doctor began, but was interrupted much to his displeasure. He may as well have stayed at home this morning with his wife-to-be, nothing was worth this.
"However nothing John, you are constantly badgering on about compromise, and although Molly is the queen of compromising her happiness for everyone else- probably not the best precedent to set with one's future life partner if one wants to be happy." Sherlock berated his friend, John blinked, speechless at the astute social commentary his friend had just given,
"He-he's right actually. There's a first for everything I guess. Come and have a look Tom- I've seen worse, Afghanistan wasn't the kindest to the corpses it left. If ever there was a time to watch an autopsy, I guess this would be it." The anger at his situation washed away as John processed what Sherlock had said,
"You should be proud of her, there aren't many who can do what she does," Sherlock said quietly,
"She should be made a Dame just for dealing with you!" John mocked, grinning up at the curly-haired detective,
"Hmm, maybe next time Mycroft threatens me with a knighthood, I'll insist he gives it to Molly." Sherlock chuckled, John's surprise at this was not feigned, nor was his moderate hurt at being put second to the pathologist.
"What about me?" John exclaimed,
"You can have the one after." Sherlock said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world,
"You've been threatened with a knighthood?" Tom asked timidly, thus far he'd just been trying to avoid seeing the goo covered corpse, and ignore the detectives jibes at his relationship.
"Odd turn of phrase, I'll give you that, but yes. My brother's amusement of choice is allowing dignitaries to offer me things, he knows I HATE that." Sherlock mused, rolling his eyes at his brother's behaviour.
"How many?" Tom asked, confused that threatening honours was even possible.
"Right, nothing obvious on the skin, or in the explosion cavity, except the goo- which appears to be a combination of orange food products- oranges, carrots, mangoes, sweet potato, butternut squash. That sort of thing. Possible poisoning, can you get him back to the morgue?" Molly rattled off her observations, putting her gloves in the biohazard bag in the pocket of her lab coat. The conversation about whether Tom should watch had lasted as long as the autopsy itself.
"Get him in the body bag," Sherlock ordered, gesticulating towards the rucksack and in John's general direction.
"Is this going to be a repeat of flu-day?" John asked slowly, he'd always been curious about that.
"Shut up John," Was the eloquent reply from Sherlock.
"How did he know we'd be walking through the right cemetery?" Tom asked shortly, as if she'd somehow planned the whole thing,
"Ketchup on my shoe yesterday, I don't know. Probably hedged his bets as to the route we'd take and where the next body would be," Molly said in a very exasperated tone, contrary to some people's beliefs she was not his keeper.
"It's starting to freak me out Molls; maybe you should get John to have a word," Tom confessed once they were well out of earshot, he did not sign up for this.
"You'll get used to it; give it a little more time, please? For me?" She pleaded, she hadn't anticipated everything going back to pre-Reichenbach quite so quickly.
"Ok, for you," Tom smiled down at her, and kissed her forehead.
The next few days passed without complaint, no more corpse explosions or random Sherlock incidents, Tom was beginning to get suspicious, usually if there was a lull, then something big was coming. That something usually involved Tom getting extremely uncomfortable, or discovering something else that was supposedly normal between Molly and her friends. He was growing aggravated with the way she got taken for granted too, especially when she protested that she wasn't.
He had popped into St Bart's so they could have lunch together, he'd never liked the place much in the first place, but the constant threat of the appearance of Sherlock made it even less appealing. As if right on cue, a commotion exploded outside-
"Out the way, dead body coming through," Sherlock's voice boomed throughout the corridors, followed by John's apologies,
"MOLLY!" He shouted as they approached the cafeteria, she gave an apologetic look to Tom and rushed to the hallway,
"We've got another one, pre-explosion." John explained, starting to undo the body-bag,
"Good, get him downstairs," She pulled her safety specs down off her head to cover her eyes, this corpse could explode at any moment,
"I'll see you later, Molly," Tom said, having walked up unnoticed beside her, he squeezed her hand and went to leave when, right at the perfect moment, the body exploded bright orange goo all over him. Molly bit her tongue until it nearly bled to stop herself falling over with hysteria. Sherlock and John exchanged an amused glance, before the shorter man proclaimed the obvious:
"Well that was unfortunate." Sherlock smirked.