So this is my first stab at a Sherlock FanFic, so go nice please!

I'm sitting here, just waiting for this molecule of mine to assert itself. There's a needle clutched in my hand, a few drops of water escaping the tip, and I'm waiting for this damn molecule to mix with the water so that I can cover it, readying it to be stored it for twelve hours, and go get my lunch. I'm famished.

The only other attendant in the room is Molly Hooper, a mousy and skinny girl who's lifting a Petri dish to a high shelf. I'd never make that shelf. I'm even smaller than her. However, I'm used to it. I'm always smaller than other girls, with their tanned legs 6ft in height and gorgeous shoes, I'm like a minuscule doll. My blond hair reaches past my shoulders in very soft ways, making me look like a fairy.

I have curves in all the right places for a woman of twenty-four, but I just hate being so petite. It's infuriating working in a lab and having to stretch up to reach a shelf, like Molly was currently doing.

So, naturally, men tend not to notice me. I slip into the sidelines, usually accompanied by Molly, and we get on with our work without trying to look sexy to our male colleagues.

Except for today, Molly is making more of an effort for work than she usually would. A new lipstick I haven't seen before is on her lips, a warm pink, and if I'm not mistaken, blusher on her cheeks.

I frown a little while I wait for this needle to stop spilling water. I think carefully before I speak – I'm never usually in this particular lab, and so don't want to offend her. My shy personality usually prevents this from happening, but I don't want to overstep the mark with her.

"You look different today, Molly."

A little stunned that I spoke, her back - which is facing me as she files away a report - jerks slightly as she turns to me. Her brown eyes blink, with a small smile on her face at my noticing.

"Yes, new make-up. I thought I'd try something out," she fingers her ponytail, hardly meeting my eyes, and the blush on her cheeks deepen.

"It looks nice," I say, smiling.

Before she could say thank you, a man barged into the room, whipping off a black scarf with long fingers. Shocked, I blinked, looking like a doe that's been caught in the headlights. I've never seen this man before. Surely he doesn't work within the department?

He has curly black hair, dropping slightly onto his forehead, and impossibly-high cheekbones. If someone slapped him, they'd cut their had on his cheek. The suit he's wearing is perfectly black, a white shirt underneath, and he throws his black trench coat on a hook next to the door. Before I can blink again, he's shouting orders to both Molly and another man who's walked in behind him. A little more... average..., this man has brown hair, a befuddled expression, and a small limp in his leg.

I don't... erm, quite know what to do with myself. They appear not to have noticed my presence – Molly hasn't seen my shock, and she doesn't seem at all alarmed by this tall man who's currently picking up a microscope, gesturing wildly, and rambling about a "missing pair of boxer shorts". Molly has scampered out the door.

When the two men are muttering to each other, the brown-haired one's back facing me and blocking out the high-cheekboned man, I look back down at my work and get focused on it again. The molecule has separated itself from the water, and I give out a small sigh. No lunch for me for another ten or fifteen minutes, then.

I begin to start the process again, reaching for chemicals to mix in a freshly-cleaned beaker, and simultaneously scribble down the failure of my latest experiment and the amounts and concentrations of the chemicals I used.

"O-o- oh, this is Bethany. She's using the lab for a few weeks, bad case of electrical cut in hers from a guy's encounter with a microwave," Molly nervously giggles at the end, trying to make a joke which doesn't amuse anyone in the room. Well, I've obviously solved the case of why she has new make-up.

But nevertheless, I didn't notice her entering the room again, and I looked up to find the brown-haired man smiling comfortably at me. The other man doesn't even look up from the lens of his microscope, however he mysteriously pauses to sniff a knife with a frown on his face.

I smile shyly at the man who's just given me a tiny wave, and look back to my chemicals.

Five minutes later, and my molecule still won't attach itself. Time to try a more complicated method of chemicals.

"Sherlock, you can't know absolutely everything about DNA, why don't you ask Molly?"

"Do be quiet, John, it's bad enough I have to do this with all these people nattering in the room without you piling on," Sherlock says. Oh dear lord, his voice is so deep and velvety, like chocolate. I've never heard a deep rumble like it.

The man, Sherlock, stands up after his snide comment and holds his hands behind his head, eyes closed in concentration with a frustrated huff.

"Molly, surely you know?" John asks, obviously tired of his arrogant friend's mood swings, and gestured to the girl who stood next to him, waiting patiently like a puppy for its owner.

I look up, for a second, from my work to practically see the cogs working in Molly's brain, a panicked and sorrowful expression appearing on her with wide eyes. I sympathise with her – I also find it difficult to be put on the spot. I look down at my experiment again, trying to block them out.

"I- I- I don't-" she stutters.

"She doesn't know, of course not, John, because she has a degree in the absolutely useless field of dead people," Sherlock mocks.

I don't want to look up, but I know that Molly is wincing right now. Ouch. But which guy is it that she likes...? Damn, it doesn't matter. Please don't ask me, Molly. She knows that I would know the answer – and I do – but I don't like speaking to random people who wander in here. This guy is nuts, rude, arrogant, patronizing, and I don't want anything to do with him. I'm so glad I'm not wearing a lab coat right now, I'm hoping they just assume I'm an intern, not hard due to my small build, and leave me be.

The tone in her voice changes to one that signifies that a lightbulb has just turned on in someone's brain. Oh, no. Oh, no. Oh, no.

Please don't make me get verbally-mauled by Dr. Moody over there, Molly.

"Bethany will know, she got her PhD by studying DNA!"

Darn.

I look up timidly to find that this man called Sherlock's eyes are snapping open, locking their gaze with me as he sharply lifts up his head. It seems as if he's just noticed another person in the room, and maybe he has, considering how ignorant to everyone else he is. How can he not get whiplash from moving his neck that fast? His slightly-widened eyes are ice cold, narrowed, emotionless, concentrated only on me to help him with whatever work he's doing.

"Do you know what chemical this is? And how to make it?"

I gulp, unnoticeably.

"Um, yes?"

The man named John sighs in relief, shoulders relaxing and smiled in joy, giving a laugh of heartfelt relief. Molly grins widely, showing teeth, and looks so happy to have helped these people that she could dance about it.

I'm now put on the spot though. Thanks, Molly. She knows how timid I am.

This man called Sherlock hasn't moved a muscle like the other two, but seems to be infuriated that he doesn't know what to do himself, and that I do. His eyes have gone sharper, narrower, and I feel uneasy.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

I blink, uneasy of his accusing tone and choose my words carefully.

"Um... I didn't want to."

John smiles softly at me, and Molly attempts to tidy up Sherlock's workplace.

But Sherlock never takes his eyes off me. He can sense my fear, I know it.

He seems to perk up slightly, giving me a slight half-smile with cold eyes, and nods before demanding I assist him. I'm away to protest, although shyly, when I'm interrupted.

"I'll take over your work," Molly offers, smiling at me as if we're friends. She's obviously ecstatic to have helped this guy, though I can see in her eyes that she's a little put out that she couldn't have offered her services but instead volunteered mine.

I don't know what to say. I know Molly can take care of my experiment, but I'm so shy around people that I might say something wrong and make a fool of myself, and ruin Molly's chances of him returning. She seems to know him though... so maybe she's progressed in getting his attention?

That, or he's just using her to get a free-lab pass.

Damn, I can't get out of it. Why do I have to help this moody jackass?

I wind up having to spend my lab-time working with this man, Sherlock, watching me like a hawk as I sort out his problem. Obviously, he doesn't like being dependant on someone.

His problem is a complicated one – even if he is a genius (which I'm not convinced of as I've never heard of him, and how can a genius be so rude and sociopathic?) - he would never know the procedure to this without studying DNA in depth. The procedure is complex, but I manage to crack it – a bundle of different DNA's have mixed together, forming a mass of complicated strings, and I manage to reverse the process to leave at least five different samples of DNA un-shuffled and back to their original state.

As soon as I'm done with the Petri dish, he whips it up with a pale, long-fingered hand, and says "John!", and hurriedly puts on his coat and scarf to leave the room. He's gone before I can blink.

"Sorry, I'm going to have to go after him, make sure he doesn't do anything too disastrous. But thank you for all your help... erm, Bethany, wasn't it?" John says, gesturing apologetically.

I smile and nod timidly, afraid that he'll ask for another favour.

"Thank you, and sorry again, for him," John smiles in his apology before whisking himself out the door after the other man.

I look at Molly, still in a little bit of shock.

"Who were they?"

"That was John Watson and... and, Sherlock Holmes," she replies with a dreamy expression.