(With apologies to H.P. Lovecraft - A modern retelling of Herbert West - Reanimator. Written for 2017's Halloween at 221b - A Sherlolly Celebration.)

Molly Hooper – (Assistant) Reanimator

Part One - Intro

"I'll need the results texted to me just as soon as they come in." Sherlock held the door to the small office just off the morgue open and indicated that Molly should go first.

"I know, I know, a man's alibi depends on it." Molly rolled her eyes as she slipped around the desk to stand in front of her chair. She frowned down at the large box someone had left on the middle of the desk, directly on top of the paperwork she'd been going through before Sherlock had popped in to drag her off to the lab for half an hour.

"Not really, he's guilty as the devil. But I've been waiting weeks for an excuse to use the new equipment, and this seemed as good a time as any." Sherlock waited for her to look up and share a grin with him; but the entirety of her attention seemed to be focused on the box.

He narrowed his eyes and took the sudden pallor of her skin, the way she was holding her breath, the fine tremor in her hand as she held her fingers just above the writing penned onto the corner of the shipping box. It took a second to make out the words scrawled in uneven cursive script. In the centre of the box was her name and the address for Barts. In the corner was simply "H. West" with no return address. He noted there was no postage mark to indicate where the box had been shipped from. If anything, he suspected it had been hand delivered by a carrier or possibly the sender himself.

Sherlock carefully pulled the door shut. "Molly?"

She didn't answer him.

He came around the desk and put his hand on her arm. She flinched; and when her eyes finally met his, Sherlock could see that she was terrified.

"What is it?" He gently eased her into her chair. "Look at me, sweetheart. Focus on me. Do we need to call Lestrade?"

"No! No police." Her voice was high pitched and sharp, just this side of hysterical in Sherlock's opinion.

She hadn't reacted to the unexpected (to him, most of all) endearment—one he hadn't intended to utter until it had slipped past his lips—and that worried him even more. "What's in the box?"

Molly shook her head and looked up at him. "It's a long story. You're going to want to sit down for this."