CHAPTER 1: THE DAY MOLLY HAD ENOUGH AND SHERLOCK DIDN'T UNDERSTAND

Thursday, 2 p.m.

She was sitting in the cafeteria, when he arrived, coat swaying behind like a cloak. As always, Molly felt the butterflies in her stomach. His eyes were shining only when he was on a case. He probably just wanted a body or a limb or an autopsy report for his personal experiments. There was always hope in Molly that he came for something else. But he never came for anything that didn't involve a cadaver.

When he reached her table, she realized that she had been staring in a very embarrassing way and closed her mouth. Why do I turn into this mess every time he is around?

"I need a body," he demanded.

Of course he needs a body, what else. But suddenly came a change.

"What for?" Molly bursted out, without thinking. She felt the blood rising to her face. Oh god, he will say now how horrible I look or how my weak mind couldn't possibly understand the depths of his reasons.

But Sherlock only lifted his eyebrow. "An experiment, obviously."

Molly rolled her eyes, when a sudden rush of boldness took over her. "Yes, Sherlock. That is obvious. I meant what are you going to do with the body."

His eyes looked at the woman suspiciously, while his mouth curved into a smile. "Your hair looks different today, Molly. It suits you. You look lovely."

Is he always like this? So disgustingly manipulative and fake. She then understood that yes, he always was like this. Mean and cruel. It was time for her to wake up from the dream. She knew exactly how her hair looked. It looked the same way as it did yesterday, when he took the bother to tell her that ponytails are dull and she should change her style, because it didn't suit a professional pathologist like her.

"Shut up, Sherlock. Don't dodge the subject. I'm asking again. What are you going to do with a body?"

Sherlock pressed his lips tightly together and frowned. He didn't like the resistance he met. Usually Molly would have just ran along to do what he said, but not anymore. She'd had enough of his controlling and ordering. For god's sake! I'm 31 years old! I can do what I want!

Judging by the look on his face, he was definitely not pleased. He tried to read Molly, to deduce what made her act this way and she simply looked him coldly in the eye, lifting an eyebrow to emphasize that her question was still unanswered.

His face turned motionless, when his efforts came without results. "What do you think I am going to do with a body, Molly," he replied, all fake gone from his voice, that was now colder than ice, "Eat it? Even you couldn't possibly be that stupid."

"No," she said.

"No what?"

"No, you cannot have a body."

"I didn't ask."

"I know you didn't. That's why you can't have one."

"Fine. Oh Molly! Pretty please! Can I please, please, please have a dead human corpse?" His voice was now soaking with sarcasm.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I say so."

"Do you now?"

"Yes. My morgue. My rules. No, you can't have a body, because I say so."

"Since when is the morgue yours?"

"Since I became the head of the pathology department. Now piss off. I want to finish my lunch."

Now they were staring at each other and waiting who would give up sooner. It's not going to be me. Not anymore, not ever. And looking into his freezing ocean coloured eyes, Molly knew she could do it. It was stupid to hold up hopes about him, so she decided to give up on it and act normal around him. Like me. Like I am around everyone else. A strong independent woman. And no Sherlock Holmes is going to change who I am.

As if he had heard it out loud, he gave up and looked away. No goodbye and nothing, he turned around and dashed out of the cafeteria.

Oh my god! Did I just say 'Piss off' to Sherl- No! Damn it, Molly! Don't start again!

It felt good. Really good. She felt like she was born again. Molly was happier than she had ever been. Who would have thought? Molly Hooper, a mousy pathologist, had found her inner strength again. To hell with Sherlock Holmes! I am a single woman in my best years. I'm going out tonight!

And so she finished her tuna sandwich, picking out her phone and smiling to herself.

Thursday, 7 p.m.

No.

The word haunted him. The word he thought Molly Hooper would never say.

I don't understand! And that fact made him angry. So he ignored John and curled up on the couch, facing the wall with the annoying smiley. God! Must John breathe so loud? And I'm sure he could turn the newspaper pages more silently!

"Sherlock..." Oh god he started to talk as well.

"What?" he growled, still staring the yellow graffiti paint.

"What happened today in Barts?" John asked, putting the newspaper away as Sherlock could tell by another sound of paper being tortured.

"What makes you think that something happened?"

"Are we going to go on with these questions? You rushed out of the cafeteria with a face like you'd just seen... I don't know... Mycroft doing belly dance!"

Sherlock turned around and jumped up from the sofa, stepping over the coffee-table to sit down in his chair facing John. "That is ridiculous! Don't be stupid!"

"I was just- You know! Never mind!" he said and picked up the paper again. The detective grabbed it from him and made him look back at his face.

"What?" he asked again.

"What what, Sherlock?"

He is so annoying! "Fine! It was Molly!"

John raised his eyebrows (or rather lowered his hair, because that's what it looked like) and smirked knowingly. "Yes, Sherlock, I could guess that already. What did you do this time?"

Sherlock laid back in the chair and pulled his knees under his chin. John hated when he did that, because in his words he "looks like a bloody child" when he does that. Sherlock doesn't care. "Why do you think it was something that I did?"

John laughed, but then gave him a serious look. "Stop with the questions. I'm asking them now. Now tell me what did you do to Molly?"

"Nothing! Absolutely nothing! I just wanted a body and she said no!" He jumped up again and walked around the room, hands tucked safely in the pockets of his robe so he wouldn't hit anything.

"She did?! Good girl!" John grinned.

Sherlock glared at him. "Shut up!"

He rolled his eyes and said: "Sherlock, you've been harassing Molly mentally for years. If I was instead of her, I would have punched you in the face long ago. It was time she got over you."

"Got over me? What are you talking about?" Again he was confused. He hated it.

John crossed his arms on his chest. A note that now he was really pissed at the other man. It seemed to Sherlock that everyone got angry with him today, even if he didn't say anything "insulting", like John referred to his deductions. Rather than looking at John, staring at him from his armchair, Sherlock walked to the kitchen.

"Just spit it out, John. What have I done this time?" he asked him, while going through the kitchen cupboards to find anything eatable.

"This time you have to figure it out yourself. You are one of the brightest minds in the world, yet I have never met anyone more stupid than you. Just one hint. Just one. Molly is clever, funny and confident..." Sherlock laughed. In which parallel universe is she confident? And funny? "... only when you're not around." That made the detective close his mouth.

Sherlock analyzed his words and barely noticed John grabbing his coat and saying something about a Mary and leaving him to his thoughts. Sherlock quit the search, because they had no food and took back his old position on the couch, where he revisited his conversation with Molly.

When he had entered the cafeteria and noticed her sitting alone behind a table, with a sandwich and a cup of coffee, wearing a hideous light pink tiny-black-flower-patterned jumpsuit and her usual white labcoat, she was acting as usual. First her cheeks turned red and she started staring at the man like a half-minded. Then he demanded a body, to which she wanted to know what for. She seemed to regret her words at once, blushing again.

But then she said no. No. Just one little word. Why does it bother me so much?

Maybe because he has never seen Molly be so confident before. She didn't stutter once. Perhaps John is right. She got over his presence and started acting normal around him. Like she was with everybody else. But why does it bother me so much?

I need a distraction! "I NEED A CASE!" he shouted to the smiley. The face didn't change.