Lo Stesso Tempo (Sherlolly)

Chapter Six

Present

"Molly. Molly?"

Molly jumped to attention and looked up. Sherlock was staring at her expectantly.

"The scale?"

"Oh! Sorry!" She moved the scale closer to him and he set a human heart on it. He had come in claiming to be bored and offered to help her with her examinations. They were doing a routine examination of a Mr. Charles Terrace. He had died of a heart attack but they were making sure. There wasn't anything interesting in. Sherlock had slung his coat onto a chair, rolled up his shirt sleeves and unbuttoned his top button. Molly had stood by while he went through all the motions with expert care. She's gotten distracted by the sight of his arms. His pale skin was marred by small scars all along the underside. Remnants of their days in uni. She shuddered at the memories.

He looked up at her, his usually blue-green eyes shining silver in the white light of the morgue. "I haven't touched it since I went into rehab."

She shook her head, her eyes tearing up. "I know." It just distressed her to think of all he'd put himself through. All the world had put him through.

He looked back down at the liver he was now examining. "May I have this?"

She wiped her eyes and frowned. "No. It's illegal."

"He's registered for donation. You're donating."

"No, Sherlock! It's wrong."

He looked at her strangely. "You curled your hair today. I forgot to tell you, it looks nice."

She blinked and touched her pinned hair gently. "T-thank you?"

He nodded and went back to work. Within the hour, he was walking out with a liver. Molly sat down to finish the paperwork. She pushed a stray curl out of her vision and sighed.

***

"I need a body."

Molly nearly jumped from her seat at the sound of his voice. She looked up, wondering when he had gotten in and come to stand so close to her. She stood shakily and leaned away. "O-okay." She led him to the morgue and pulled out a body. He helped her set it on the examination table and then unzipped the bag.

"How fresh?"

"Just in. Sixty-seven, natural causes. Used to work here. I knew him, he was nice." She smiled.

"Fine." He zipped the bag and straightened with a smile. "We'll start with the riding crop."

Molly stood outside the morgue, finding it was safer to have a wall between she and Sherlock when he was in a bad mood. Though... She could only guess he was in a bad mood. He was hitting the corpse with astounding accuracy on each rib and a frightening force. She wasn't quite sure if the nervous coiling in her stomach was because he was hitting a body with a riding crop or because of... Other things related to said riding crop. She'd rather not think about it.

"So? Bad day, was it?" She hesitantly went to join him in the morgue.

"I need to know what bruises form in the next twenty minutes, a man's alibi depends on it. Text me."

She nodded and looked away, trying to build up some courage. "Listen, I was wondering. Maybe later, when you're finished-"

"Are you wearing lipstick? You weren't wearing lipstick before."

She paused. "I uh... I refreshed it a bit." She should have known he'd notice.

"Sorry, you were saying?" He went back to writing in a notebook.

"I was wondering if you'd like to have coffee." There, she'd said it! It was easier since he wasn't looking at her.

He folded his notebook away and nodded. "Black, two sugars please. I'll be upstairs."

She watched him leave with an unsure feeling in her chest. Had he misunderstood or was he saying no? The door swung shut and she turned stiffly. "Okay..."

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Season 1 begins! Thoughts on the story as a whole?