Molly whimpered. Her lungs felt as if they had collapsed, refusing to draw any new breath in. In one swift motion, Sherlock reached up and detached her harness from the vent, carelessly depriving her of her life line, her way home.

"There we are." He said, coiling the trailing wire around his hand and turning back to the table.

Molly's heart pummeled the inside of her chest as she swung awkwardly, still suspended by the cables on her harness.
"Nonononono please!" She begged, unwelcome tears of terror beginning to trickle down her face.
A moment later she was lowered gently onto the work table, her legs turning to jelly the second they made contact with the blessedly solid surface.

The human sat across from her, his towering bulk casting a shadow as thick as a shroud. She glanced up, but catching sight of those eyes, still beautiful, but distant, as if she were some scientific oddity to be picked apart, sent icy claws scraping down her spine.

Sherlock for his part was completely enamored with his little discovery.
"What exactly are you?" He mused aloud, leaning closer and very carefully taking her arm between forefinger and thumb, the better to examine it. "How can such a normally proportioned human body function at your scale? You spoke before too, meaning that above and beyond the regular bodily functions your brain must be quite developed for something your size. Possibly strangest of all, your vocal chords shouldn't be able to produce the pitch you spoke in. They must be quite small, you ought to be speaking in a very high pitch, but you aren't. Why is that?"

The trembling Borrower finally got up the nerve to try snatching her arm back, gasping whimpering, she pushed and pulled against the giant fingers, only winning her freedom when the giant human loosened his grip and allowed it.

"Hmm, I suppose this sort of fear response is only natural," He conceded in a tone of resigned annoyance as she clutched her arms to her chest, as if afraid he may try to grab them again. "But I assure you, I've got no intention of hurting you. Let's start off with a simpler question. What is your name?"

Oh no, he expected her to speak. She'd imagined introducing herself to him many a time, but in her mind's eye she'd always been human. Any witty banter she'd constructed during long sleepless nights had deserted her, leaving her to stumble out a simple "M-M-Molly. M-Molly Hooper…"

Sherlock Hmm'ned, though she wasn't quite sure what that meant. "Well, Molly Hooper," Her name on his lips sent a new shiver down her spine, but not the pleasant kind she'd always imagined it would. "You may or may not know this already, but my name is Sherlock Holmes. From your clothes and the odd badge sewn onto your bag I can assume you're not the only one of your kind, and in fact there must be many of you living in this hospital, is that correct?"

Molly's eyes widened and her jaw clamped shut. She couldn't, couldn't just tell him about the others. Besides, how had he known? She'd always admired his deductive skills but this was disturbing to say the least. Sherlock nodded knowingly. "Yes, I can see by your body language I'm right. What were you doing when I found you just now?" he asked.

Molly felt tortured. 'You tell me!' she thought. 'You've probably already worked it all out. I want to go home, please Sherlock, just let me go home!' But Sherlock simply waited, watching her intently, his steepled fingers resting gently against his lips, the way they always did when he was trying to unravel a mystery.
Finally, when she could stand it no more, she took a deep breath. "I… I-I borrow things…" She muttered so quietly she wasn't sure Sherlock could have heard her.

She winced, ducking and covering her head with a small squeak when the human reached out for her, but relaxed a little when all he did was tug her borrowing bag free of its clip. She watched uneasily as he pulled the bag open, and smiled as if a suspicion had just been confirmed.

"I suppose it must be very difficult for your species, race, whatever you are, to create everything you need for yourselves on a large scale while still keeping your activities hidden from human eyes, but is stealing from a hospital really the most efficient way to go about it? How come you haven't been spotted on security footage? And why hasn't anyone noticed the missing medicine?"

Molly felt the need to speak up for her people, even if her entire body was screaming at her to just keep quiet. Borrowers had a rough life, something the likes of which no human in London could understand, and she hated any implication that they were freeloading vermin.
"W-we only take what we absolutely need! T-trust me, w-we're trying to produce more medicines on our own, b-but people are sick now. N-none of us would be here if we could avoid it!" To her surprise, Sherlock merely chuckled good naturedly and handed her bag back.

"There's no need to defend yourself. I was merely surprised you've gone this long without being noticed. I've been using the lab here for over a year and I certainly never suspected a thing. I suppose you must have ways around the security cameras, locks, alarms ect. I'm impressed, and that doesn't happen often."

Molly looked up at him, gob smacked. She knew it didn't happen often. Sherlock was much more likely to tare someone down than pay them a compliment, and admitting you'd impressed him was just about the highest praise he could bestow. She felt herself starting to blush. "I… Uh, Th-thank you?" She stuttered, not quite believing she'd heard what she'd thought she had.

Suddenly, a piercing ring tone split the silence of the lab like an axe, making Molly jump and squeak in surprise and causing Sherlock to dig in his pocket, looking frustrated.
He glanced at the caller ID before accepting the call, holding the phone and answering with a quick "Yes?"

Molly listened silently as Sherlock conversed with the person on the other side of the line, never taking his eyes off of her, as if afraid she might run away.

"Yes. No, John, it's a very delicate experiment… Yes, in the bath, I am aware… Well Mrs. Hudson has a shower, just use hers… No, NO! John, do not pull that plug! Are you listening to me? Don't you dare- Damn it John!"

Molly screamed as Sherlock absentmindedly slammed his fist into the table. It was a decent distance away from her, but it was still a shock.
The detective growled as he terminated the call, glaring at the phone as if trying to reduce it to a melted lump with only the heat of his annoyance. "I'm sorry Miss Hooper, but it looks like we'll have to continue this conversation another time. My flat mate has absolutely no regard for other people's things." He stood to his full impressive height and pushed his seat back under the table. Molly nodded nervously, but also in relief.
She'd met Sherlock Holmes, and hey, what do you know? She wasn't in pieces on a metal trey. And he wanted to see her again! That was… Well, it was something.

She got to her feet, legs still weak, and backed away a step subconsciously when Sherlock offered his hand, held palm up like a platform. "Come on." He coaxed.
Molly bit her lip, but nodded. After all, she'd be stranded on this table if she didn't let him give her a lift back to the vent. She gathered up the trailing chords of her harness, winding them up so they wouldn't become tangled then stepped gingerly onto his open palm.
The look of intense attention and focus on his face as she sat herself down and he curved his fingers up protectively was… really embarrassing. He must have been filing new and fascinating data about the weight and feel of her in his hand. She cleared her throat and looked away, her blush brighter than ever.

"Inner or outer pocket?"

Molly looked up sharply, taken aback. "What?" She asked.

"Inner or outer pocket?" Sherlock repeated with all the patience of a harassed preschool teacher dealing with a particularly stupid child.
He pointed to his jacket at about chest height. "The inner pocket would be safer as there would be much less chance of anyone seeing you, and it would provide better stability. But it could be quite stifling, between your body heat and mine, not to mention the lack of air flow. The outer pocket," Here he indicated a much larger pocket at about thigh level, "would provide much better air, but be quite unstable as I walk. I don't know how much your small frame can handle. If you're like a mouse or a rat, this option should give you little trouble, but if you're more fragile-"

Molly held her hands out to stop him, finally too horrified to keep quiet.
"Wait a minute! I thought you were just dropping me off back up there!" She shouted, pointing to the vent. Sherlock barely glanced at it.

"No, I did say I wanted to continue our conversation, and I'm not entirely sure you'd either want or be allowed to come speak with me again. I imagine secrecy and security are very important to your superiors. So, inner, or outer pocket?"

Little Molly was starting to hyperventilate. This was wrong, wrong wrong wrong! She was about to voice her rather strong reservations, when suddenly Sherlock's phone went off again, this time to alert him to a text. He took it out and growled, "Oh god, John, can't you go five minutes without ruining my experiments!" He shoved the phone back into the lower pocket of his woolen coat.
"Inner it is then." he sighed, seemingly out of patience.

"N-no! Sherlock NO!"