Chapter Text
Molly always felt that her day really started when Sherlock walked in to her lab. Today he and John came in late in the afternoon. John was spouting theories, only about a third of which sounded remotely helpful to Molly whatever the case was. She could tell by the size of the folder in Sherlock’s hands that tonight would be a long one.
John smiled and said hello before he slumped into a stool and took out a book to settle in for the night. John was cute in his way. He always reminded Molly of a child or a loyal dog; a round faced boy that followed Sherlock around like a puppy. But sometimes she could see in John’s eyes a haunted look that made him seem so old, he was a man that had seen too much. She had thought about asking John out for a cup of coffee a couple of times but somehow she never found the right moment.
Sherlock did not make eye contact or even say hello when he entered the room. He just sauntered over to what Molly thought of as his microscope like some dark prince storming back to his castle. His curls were a little slick today; it must have been raining outside. He opened the case file next to him as he started to take plastic bags out of his pockets that contained what Molly assumed where pieces from the crime scene.
Molly walked towards him, careful not to invade Sherlock’s personal space, to glance at the case file. She had been assisting Sherlock for so long (almost 3 years) that almost immediately she knew at least some of the chemicals he might need. She went into the back room to grab them. When she returned Sherlock was staring intently into the microscope muttering to himself like he was making notes on a notepad that only existed in a room in his Mind Palace.
She walked behind him to set the chemicals on his left side she got two steps away before her desire to gaze at Sherlock again overwhelmed her. For maybe the trillionth time that year she cursed her romantic nature. However, to her surprise when she turned around he was looking back, gazing at her with his intense multicolored eyes. It was the closest Molly had ever come to getting a thank you from Sherlock Holmes so she smiled feebly and turned towards her mountain of paper work.
It could have been her imagination but since Christmas Sherlock had seemed… kinder? That wasn’t quit the right word. It was more like he was making a more conscious effort to observe, and testing himself on how to respond correctly to a wider range of human emotions. It made Molly smile to see him trying.
She had taken two more steps toward her desk when movement at Sherlock’s microscope made her turn around. It was so involuntary that Molly was surprised to be looking at him again. This time he was looking away. He was mixing some of the chemicals she had brought over with one of the samples from the bags. Molly clenched her fists making a decision to put off paperwork for a little while longer. She steeled herself for what she guessed was probably another futile attempt at socializing with the elusive man that haunted her dreams.
She walked very carefully back over to Sherlock and stopped very near his side, closer than was strictly necessary. She tried to make what she was doing less awkward by trying to ask something about the test he was performing. Sherlock drew a deep breath, it startled Molly and her hand jumped, accidentally sliding across the back of Sherlock’s hand.
“Sorry” she said.
She practically ran the few steps to her desk (her nice, neat Sherlock-free desk). She sat down and chided herself for being so stupid. Of course Sherlock needed his personal space, even if he sometimes had a great disregard for other people’s own personal space. He didn’t need her help, especially now that he had John. What could he possibly need from her?
They spent the rest of the day in silence. Molly caught up on paper work, every once and a while John would turn a page in his book, Sherlock shuffled between microscope and chemicals occasionally looking up something on his phone.
Sometime after 1 in the morning Molly had fallen asleep at her desk. When she woke up, the clock on her desk said 6 am. She turned and saw Sherlock sitting still, eyes closed fingers steepled under his chin. John was leaning back in his chair. He had placed his book over his face to block out the light and was snoring. Molly reached her hands above her head in a long stretch and she saw something fall to the floor she leaned over and picked it up.
It was Sherlock’s coat. She ran her fingers over the material. Confusion was what first sprang into her mind, but she brought the coarse material closer to her face she breathed in like it was the most normal thing in the world. Her mind took in the marvelous smell that was just Sherlock’s mixed with yesterday’s rainstorm. She set the coat back in her lap, a smile spreading slowly across her face.
Molly didn’t know how long she sat there absentmindedly stroking Sherlock’s coat. However, when she heard the squeak of a metal stool against the linoleum she looked up. Sherlock was now standing beside his microscope. Molly felt a pull from some invisible force that brought her to her feet as well.
Sherlock took three long strides towards Molly, stopping just short of intimate personal space. He looked her straight in the eyes and Molly was again stunned by the swirling blues and greens that where at constant war for dominance in his gaze.
“I trust you slept well Molly.” it was a statement. But the slight inward curve of his eyebrows gave it the barest trace of a question.
“I slept very well. Thank you.” She then realized that she was still griping the material of the coat tightly.
She held out the coat. Its proper owner took it, his hands briefly rested on Molly’s. Molly felt as if small sparks of lightning flowed from his fingertips onto the back of her hand and traveled up her arms leaving goose bumps in their wake.
Sherlock then swirled on the reclaimed coat and his eyes shifted away from Molly’s face. She was grateful for this reprieve as she felt her mouth open slightly in awe of the spectical of Sherlock portraying majesty in the simple gesture of putting on a coat. Sherlock now stared down John. Molly hadn’t even notice he had woken up let alone moved only an arm’s length away. He was staring down the pair of them with an expression caught between bemusement and embarrassment like he had just walked in on something very private.
“Come on John I’ve solved the case. Let's go tell Lastrade it was Mr. Black’s cheating wife She killed both her husband and her lover in one go” Sherlock said suddenly.
Molly turned to look towards where the Consulting Detective stood. She followed him and John with her eyes as they left the morgue. Molly sighed as another day drew to a close.