Sorry I haven't updated in a while! I've been working on my OUAT story so much that I haven't had much time for this one! and no, there isn't Johnlock, Ella just thinks that they're a couple like everyone else.
Ella walked into the morgue early a couple days later, she was dreadfully bored in her new job; chopping up cadavers is only so much fun. "Hello Molly" she greeted her coworker. "Oh! Hello Ella, your a bit early today aren't you?" Molly asked her, Ella smiled. "Couldn't sleep, watched a scary movie, thought hanging out in the morgue would cure my insomnia and fear of the undead" she joked, making Molly laugh.
Molly was Ella's best friend, she was the nicest person around really, aside from D.I. Lestrade of course, but that Sally Donovan was so rude, and you don't want to get Ella started on Anderson. Molly and Ella heard rambling down the hall, both of them leaned over their laboratory table and looked at the door, where the shadows where getting closer and closer.
All of a sudden the deep, familiar voice became clear. "John please, there is nothing to do, I'm going to conduct more experiments on the John and Jane Does in the morgue" Sherlock said barging in. Ella looked at the two as they entered the room. "Dammit Sherlock!" he said, stopping when he saw Ella. Ella looked at Molly slowly, "your kidding me, right?" she asked, Molly shrugged and went to help Sherlock. John looked around, then looked back at her. "We're not a couple, alright?" he told her, Ella smiled. "Oh, I know, I just like to mess with people" she lied. Damn, Carmine she curse silently you definitely messed up this time.
Crack! Crack! she heard from further back in the morgue. "Oh no he doesn't!" she roared in fury as she stormed down the hallway. She raced through the door to see him beating two corpses with a riding crop. "Look" she said, "you can have all the fetishes you want, just not in my goddamned morgue" she ruled, taking the riding crop away.
"It's an expirame-"
CRACK.
The whip flashed across his chest, "and so was that" she winked and walked out. Sherlock stood there for a second, "but what could that accomplish" he said walking after her; she placed the riding crop on the table and pictured a pair of rubber gloves. "What kind of sex your into" she said snapping the glove's rim on her wrist, walking over to a prepped cadaver with a little table with different tools. "Why does that matter?" he questioned, completely dumbfounded as to why that would be necessary. "Well" she said slicing open the cadavers chest, splaying the skin out so she could get a good look. "You can learn a lot about a person by what turns them on" she said reaching for an internal organ. Sherlock watched her as she removed the organ from the body.
"You don't have a degree how do you know how to do that?" he observed, Ella placed the organ on the table, looking at him. "Well, when one suffers from a multiple personality disorder, in which you also suffer from depersonalization, histrionic personality disorder, occasionally slipping into manic episodes, avoidant and antisocial personality disorders for most of my young life; you learn things, and know things" she said casually.
"How are you able to work with such a past?" Sherlock said rethinking her, she didn't look insane; nor did she act it, but there was something very wrong about her, something eery; something foreboding. Ella took out a bottle of pills, holding them up for him to see. "It keeps the others in check, so they know who they are" she said twisting the bottle for his inspection. "And who are they?" he asked her, "copies. Copies of me, that I let live. I like the others, I really do, but when I have to work, they need to remember just how quickly I can extinguish them" she said pocketing the bottle and turning back to her organ, beginning the autopsy.
"And as for your experiment, Sherlock, it's much more fun to learn hands on just how easily flesh bruises, the riding crop is good, but try finding out the decay rate of the skin of, oh I don't know, a lung?" she said handing him the organ on a covered plate. "And what good would that do?" he asked her, knowing already that since it was dead it was decaying and that the pigmentation of a lung was almost non existent.
"You can just get to know how intimately you can hurt the human body, by studying how the organs react to different things. Come back next week and I'll give you a heart" she said turning around, he looked at her. "Your a psychopath" he said deducing her. "Ah yes" she said spreading her palms, "but at least I'm a highly functioning one" she said looking at him.
"Are you going to tell on me now, Sherlock? Take my job and house away?" she smirked with a raised eyebrow. "On the contrary, I find you interesting, complex-though quite obviously insane to some degree-and that does not happen often" he said smoothly. "Oh good, I would have hated to misjudged you; by the way, you should really learn how to tell the difference between people" she told him. "What do you mean?" Sherlock backed away, curious as to what she was implying.
"I'm not Ella."