Gah okay so I didn't even originally have Lestrade in mind for this fic. I was listening to the radio and Dark Side by Kelly Clarkson came on and I thought of Sherlock in Greg's place, but it seemed too OOC so here we are. "Dark Side" belongs to Kelly Clarkson, "We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together" belongs to Taylor Swift, Sherlock belongs to Moffat, Gatiss, BBC, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and the respective owners. Reviews are appreciated, though not required whatsoever, and I hope you enjoy this dumb little story! =)

It was going to be a boring day at work for Molly Hooper. Not wanting to leave her fiancé's warm embrace but knowing she would have twice the work to do tomorrow, she kissed his forehead and headed to the kitchen to make tea.

All by herself, she had to wash 6 bodies. She put on a light blue shirt and jeans, pulling her hair into a side ponytail. She slung her bag around her shoulder, added her purple iPod and matching earbuds to it, and set out to St. Bart's for the day.

Once she got to work, she untangled the headphones and clicked on the 'Work' playlist. Popular pop songs she heard on the American radio channels could be found on this 126 song playlist. Starting with "We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together," by Taylor Swift, she set up her station.

*•~*•*•~*•~

She was just finishing up body number 6, dancing around the room to get the tools necessary to finish cleaning the poor people, when her most recent favorite song came on.

"Everybody's got a dark side," she washed her hands and tools while singing with a beautiful voice nobody would usually hear. "Can you love me, can you love mine?" She twirled and flounced back to the bag, before zipping it up and putting her hands in her hips with a triumphant sigh. "EEP!" She squeaked when a pair of arms snaked their way around her waist. Looking down at the arms, she sighed and her body relaxed.

"You don't know how adorable you are when you sing, Molly," Greg kissed her cheek. "Reminds me why we're engaged."

"I.. Thank you. I love you," Molly blushed, her head facing her fiancé's.

Greg kissed her, just a lingering, closed-mouth kiss, and replied, "I love you, too. Let's go out for dinner. We can walk home first; I don't think you want to wear your lab coat to Angelo's," he chuckled.

The brown haired girl grabbed the older man's hand, put her bag around her shoulder, and pulled him out the door. "That sounds fantastic."