Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Steve Moffat, Mark Gatiss own Sherlock and his realm. I just own my computer,my version of Openoffice, and my sick fantasies. English is not my native language, and this story is un-betaed, so please forgive the mistakes and the typos.

Anonymous prompt on Tumblr: "Prompt: Sally Donovan being the one to discover Sherlock and Molly's secret relationship."

Sally Donovan liked Molly Hooper. Yes, the pathologist might have an awful sense of humour, and she dressed like she was still in primary school; but at the same time she was capable, determined yet polite with the officers, and she genuinely cared for her patients, even though they were all already dead.

The only bone of contention between them was Mr. Consulting detective himself, the famous Sherlock Holmes. Sally had lost count of all the times she had called him names (eve if she had stopped calling him a "freak" after a very heated discussion with Hooper), and Sherlock had insulted her intelligence; she respected his capability to solve a case faster that anyone, but at the same time she couldn't stand his arrogant manners.

Instead, Molly still had a silly crush on Sherlock, and she didn't seem able to see that the stupid arsehole was taking advantage of it, just to inflate his already gigantic ego and obtain human organs to perform some sick experiment on.

Sally had tried to show the pathologist how toxic her infatuation for that moron was, but in vain; she had always defended him, saying that Sherlock wasn't as bad as she believed; yes, he was rude, blunt, bossy, presumptuous, conceited… Sally usually stopped listening to her, because the list of Sherlock's flaws was almost endless, and she still had a job to do.

Anyway, Molly's defence didn't dissuade Sally from trying to convince her to date again, just to give a shot to a guy who surely deserved a woman like Molly more that Sherlock Holmes; and it was exactly what she had intended to do that morning, when she decided to drop by the morgue and invite Molly to have a coffee with her.

Sally was pushing open the lab's doors, when she heard a moan coming from the nearby locker room, followed by a deep grunt.

"Seems that someone is having fun…", Sally smirked, and was ready to gossip with Molly about her frisky colleagues, when she realized that the lab was empty. She checked the morgue, but Molly wasn't there neither, so she decided to call her.

She was walking past the locker room, when she heard Molly's ringtone, followed by a huffy "Fuck!", uttered by a characteristic baritone voice.

"Sally, I'm a bit busy at the moment, can I call you back in five minutes?" Molly pleaded, and Sally couldn't help but burst into laughter when she heard Sherlock grumble "Five minutes? Molly, we had just started!"

Silence fell in the locker room, followed by the sound of clothes hastily picked up from the floor; then, after a minute, the locker room's door cracked open, and Molly's crimson face appeared.

"Sally, hi! I'm going to be with you in a minute, just let me-"

The pathologist was suddenly pulled back inside, and a (fortunately fully dressed) Sherlock took her place between the door and the wall.

"Donovan."

"Holmes."

The consulting detective seemed at loss at how to continue, so the detective decided to have mercy. "I won't tell anyone, if that's what you're afraid of. I still think that you don't deserve her, if you want to know my opinion."

She surely didn't expect Sherlock's reply. "Then, for once, we agree on something."

Donovan nodded at him. "Fine, then. Tell Molly that I'm waiting for her at the canteen. And Holmes…"

"What else, Donovan? Do you want to know if we're serious? Do you want me to promise to never break her heart?"

"No, because if you'll make her suffer, then I will finally have a good reason to shoot you. Just wanted to let you know that your fly is down. Zip it up, mister!", she finished with a smug look, never forgetting the look of pure embarrassment on Sherlock's face.

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