Molly sighed as she twisted her neck around, trying to relieve the tension between her shoulders. There were a stack of papers waiting at her desk. They could wait until morning. This one however could not. She thumbed through the pages on her clipboard, orders direct from New Scotland Yard. A full autopsy would take half the night and she didn't even have any crisps. Or coffee. She desperately needed coffee.

Two doors opened suddenly behind her and she whirled around, her heart beating like a bird against her neck. The clipboard fell out of her arms. It lay between them like the lines on a map, the scattered papers marking out clear borders.

She knew she looked older than when she first left Uni. It was inevitable, this age thing. It was why she hated birthdays. Who wanted to celebrate coming closer to death? Everyone had thought she was morbid. The man now standing in front of her had called her clever.

"Don't do that autopsy! I need a look at the body. Have you inspected the…."

He was still thin and his hair was still raven black and lush with curls. It was his eyes that had changed. They were older. That piercing blue gaze had become colder and more distant. It broke her heart to be on the receiving end of it. She had to say something, anything, to break the silence between them.

"I know I look a little different. I grew out my hair. You probably don't even remember me. I'll be quiet now," she ended with a stutter.

Sherlock's eyes went wide and then softened. It was like watching the sea after a storm. It felt familiar and safe. Here was the young man that had offered her adventure, distraction, and understanding. She wasn't sure what she'd ever offered him besides company. She certainly didn't think of herself as a diversion from the mundane. That was why he'd needed drugs. And then he'd needed more. It had to be six years since she'd seen him last.

She bent down to retrieve her papers. Molly didn't expect him to help and he didn't. He did pull out a bag of crisps from his coat pocket.

"How did you know?" she asked, quickly tearing them open.

"The meager cafeteria food leaves few options at this late hour," he said.

Molly ate them one at a time, licking her fingers after each bite. Sherlock's gaze darted to her fingers then back to her face.

"Why do you think it's meager?" she asked.
"It's hospital food. Isn't it always?"

He looked down at her with that half smile she still remembered, the one that meant he was amused but trying not to show it. He'd been gone years instead of weeks this time. It didn't matter. It was as if their friendship had been put in some holding pattern and was now allowed to continue.

"These weren't for you, were they?" she said, holding up the empty bag of crisps.

"I can't eat. I'm on a case," Sherlock replied.

"Alright then."

They both stared at each other until Molly broke out in a wide grin.

"Let's have a look at that body," she said.

"After you Molly Hooper."