The Second Flatmate

A Study in Pink - Chapter Five

A Study in Pink - Chapter Five

Clara's Point of View

Bursts of affection. Did I hear that correctly? I turned to Sherlock, only to see a rundown hospital wall covered in graffiti. I slowly took off my gloves and put them in my pocket before turning in the direction of the hospital doors, hurrying after him. He had propped the door open, waiting patiently for my entrance. I nodded a quick thanks in return and followed him down the corridor. He made a quick left and as we walked down the halls, greeted the few non-busy nurses and doctors.

He stopped, knocking on the door. I heard a girlish squeak and watched, amazed as Sherlock burst in without a decent hello. 

"Morning Sherlock," a pretty girl, a little older than I, greeted. She wore a physicians white coat and I watched her as her eyes trailed after him.

I rushed forward, holding out my hand. "Hi, I'm Clara. It's nice to meet you-"

She offered her name, "It's Molly. And it's my pleasure." She smiled, shaking my hand. She let out a quiet sigh, muttering under her breath. I stood mute for a moment only to see she had appeared by Sherlock at the table.

She beckoned me over to the table that Sherlock stood at. A black body bag lay upon the chrome table and I watched as Sherlock unzipped the bag and studied the body.

Molly gave a sad smile. "I knew him. He worked here. He was a nice man."

Sherlock seemed not to listen to her at all,

"Molly, I'm going to need a riding crop. Could you fetch it for me." He said. I gaped at him, shocked at what he was going to do.

"A riding crop, are you joking? I seriously, feel like your pulling my leg here." I continued. He simply smirked at me and straightened his suit. I mirrored him and straightened my own shirt.

Molly came back, a riding crop in hand and a bolder red colour added to her lips. She seemed oblivious to our strange doings and handed Sherlock the crop. He proceeded to whip the death out of the body, whipping it about ten times. He stopped, straightened his suit again and set the crop down. I turned to Molly, watching her face morph into different expressions like shock, fear, wonder, and almost to the point of disgust.

"Molly, I need you to measure how long it takes to bruise after being dead." Sherlock said in the dead silence.

She cleared her throat, opening her mouth to say something, but seemed to have thought against it. She pulled out a handkerchief and proceeded to wipe off all traces of the crimson colour off her lips. She took a deep breath as began to speak.

"Sherlock, would you like to have coffee sometime?" I immediately knew what she was implying and almost began clapping for her brave soul to ask Sherlock out on a date.

Of course, Sherlock was not in the least a bit phased. "Molly, did you do something different with your make up?"

She immediately blushed. "I tried on a new lipstick, but it wasn't really working out with me." I almost snorted, covering it with a cough. The two paused for at least a millisecond, before continuing.

Sherlock, as lovely as ever, began, "Well, I thought it was a great improvement on your looks. Your mouth looks too small now." I noticed her eyes turn a shade darker in rage.

She repeated her query, "would you like to have coffee sometime?" I mentally slapped my head at her act of stupidity. She fixed her hair, not like the flirtatious popular girls in grade school, but subtly tucking a piece of hair that had fallen into her eyes.

Sherlock grinned, "I'd love to have coffee. Could you get me a black with two sugars? Thanks."  He handed her the riding crop so she could store it away. She nodded meekly, before strutting out. But before she stepped out, Sherlock called out to her.

"I'll be in the lab." And with a huff, Molly left the room. Sherlock grabbed his coat and led me to the lab.

It wasn't very big, the lab was a half the size of my chemistry classroom back up in Scotland. Sherlock seated himself at a microscope and played with the dials, carefully choosing a setting.

"You can take a seat, you know." He muttered. I frowned, a searched for a seat. Luckily there was one opposite Sherlock's place at the work bench.

________

Well, did I make up for it. And a challenge now for you, my scholarly penguins.

Votes: fifteen.
Comments: fifteen

At my youth group, this one guy thought I was French because I was saying "pardon moi"

Yeah. So that's basically it except its bloody freezing out here.  And I am starving.

peace out my penguins.
noella. xx.