Author's Note: Just my little contribution to the Sherlock and Molly fandom. Even if no one reads or enjoys this story I'll feel less guilty about reading so many stories and not contributing anything. Also the story idea came from an old episode of The West Wing.

The blood splattered in a perfect arc against the wall of the building.

Or more accurately, her blood splattered in a perfect arc.

She knew the official term for the splatter was arterial spray. Specifically, arterial spray caused by a cut to her brachial artery due to…a ninja star.

A ninja star had sliced open her upper arm.

A ninja star in London.

In 2016.

God, she really needed to learn how to say no to Sherlock Holmes.

"Don't dawdle Molly, the game is afoot."

Molly wrapped her opposing hand against her open wound in an attempt to stymie the blood flow and watched the retreating form of Sherlock exit the alley, not even sparing her a backward glance.

Yeah, she really needed to learn how to say no.

Unfortunately for Molly, a 4 hour wait in the A and E where she received 18 stitches to close the wound on her arm and admonishment from Sherlock ("Please Molly, it's barely a flesh wound, you sound almost as dramatic as John") were the least of the indignities she would suffer that week.

SMSMSM

"Milly Cooper?"

Molly stared at the newspaper in her hands.

"Milly Cooper?" She repeated in shock.

"I know you are tired after last night's case, but I would hope that you are not so addled that you have forgotten your own name."

"No, Sherlock, look at this." Molly frantically waved the newspaper in the air like a small bird whose wings had broken.

"How can I possibly see what is written on that paper if you insist on waving it about my head like a deranged hummingbird."

Molly ignored the insult from Sherlock and starting reading from the article.

"…blah blah blah, jewelry heist…martial arts..Aha! The boffin detective, usually accompanied by former confirmed bachelor John Watson, worked the case with hospital employee, Milly Cooper.."

Molly prevaricated between anger and…well to be honest, more anger.

"I'm not just a hospital employee, I'm the head pathologist. The youngest specialist registrar this hospital has ever had. And my name is not Milly Cooper." She paused. "Oh God, I'm going to be an 'also dead'"

"A what?"

" An 'also dead', you're going to drag me out on one of your cases, where statistically speaking eventually something fatal, and this time permanent, is going to happen and this is how my death is going to be reported, thousands of words dedicated to the wonder that is Sherlock Holmes and then one throwaway line at the end… 'and also dead, hospital employee Milly Cooper '."

It was in that instant that Molly realized that she was a bit player in her own life, not the central character that everyone rooted for, but the tertiary character who hung out on the fringes that while the audience was happy to see them, if they disappeared 20 minutes in to the program no one was really bothered.

Molly Hooper's life had been swallowed completely into the orbit of Sherlock Holmes.

She needed to do something. She was the main character. She counted. She deserved better.