Distraction

Chapter 1

Just a quick notice before we get started, this is my first attempt at writing a story, so be prepared for shittiness! The story itself will be in third person narrative. I will try to update as much as possible, so stay tuned...

Dead bodies.

Molly never thought in a million years she would end up working with dead bodies.

Being a pathologist was only ever her third career option. Her first career option was becoming a vet. Simply because she loved animals. But unfortunately, that dream was soon shattered, after realizing she couldn't be put through the emotional turmoil of having an animal die under her care.

The next option was being a writer. Molly had always been good at English in school and would always make up stories in her head if class got boring. After a while, she tried to write them down in a journal but as she wrote, the words themselves just seemed to droop on the page. They were not ever the way Molly wanted them to be. So that idea was scrapped.

The third career choice was introduced to her by a friend. A certain consulting detective, former collector/hoarder of horror movies. Of the zombie kind.

In high school, she'd come over every sunday night for movie night. They'd lay on their stomachs, ontop of his starry duvet and discuss each and every movie and its special effects, its plot, characters, everything, just the two of them. Molly and Sherlock. This was where the idea of being a pathologist sprung from. Molly was fascinated by the idea of the dead and Sherlock being sherlock realised how perfect being a pathologist would be for Molly.

After a while of daydreaming, Molly eventually snapped back to reality just in time to see him walk in. Unfortunately just not quick enough...

The door to the lab suddenly swings open, making Molly jump and drop a test tube.

"Oh bloody hell". She mutters under her breath, bending over and gathering the pieces of shattered glass.

"Daydreaming again are we Molly?" a familiar voice says, with a hint of amusement. "Here, let me."

Sherlock walks over and crouches next to Molly. "You know, you should really be more careful with equipment like this Molly, you could really hurt..."

"OW" Molly winces in pain, dropping a large piece of glass, her finger starting to trickle blood.

"Yourself" Sherlock sighs. "Let me see it." Sherlock takes ahold of Molly's petite hand and examines her wound. He thinks to himself, 'Small flesh wound , 2.3cm, no remaining glass intact.'

"Sherlock, its only a small cut," Molly rises to her feet, with Sherlock still in possession of her hand. She soon realizes and pulls away, blushing furiously. "Really, its nothing to worry about."

Sherlock glances at her face. Her cheeks have changed colour slightly and her pupils dilated. What did it mean? For some reason, he was incapable of reading what she was thinking.

Molly interrupts the silence. "So Sherlock, got any new cases today?"

She loved hearing about his work because it was something that he was so passionate about. Everyday a different case, but that was because most of the time, he would solve the most absurd and puzzling of cases in under twenty four hours. That was one of the things Molly admired about Sherlock, his talent for observing everything, not just seeing.

"As a matter of fact I do," Sherlock takes his coat off and throws it on a stool. "The Silent Assailant, as John calls it on his stupid blog," he scoffs, attaching a slide underneath the lens of a microscope. "That is why I am analyzing this bullet, the murderer's choice of weapon is some type of gun."

Molly looks over at Sherlock. A small frown line appears on his forehead. This was usually a sign that he was concentrating on something. She couldn't help but notice it, along with his posture, slightly rigid from the way he was sitting. Everyday, he would come to St Barts with another case and Molly would find herself every time just watching him.  She would never initiate a conversation though. What on earth would she say to him? She couldn't talk about the weather or his dating life.  Or worse, hers. Those were topics you just couldn't talk to someone like Sherlock about.

Except there was no one like Sherlock. Molly hadn't even realized he'd began talking again until he'd asked her a question. "What do you think?" Sherlock asked, staring intently at her, waiting for a reaction.

"Sssorry, wwhat?" Molly stuttered. She notices that he is staring right at her.

"I said..." Sherlock paused and winced his eyes. "Molly, is something the matter, you don't really seem all there". He stands up from his place and walks over to her, resting a hand gently on Molly's arm. She flinches at his touch.

"Who me?" Molly replies. "Oh no, nothing's wrong with me, I'm fine." Molly smiles and brushes his arm away.

Sherlock is not entirely convinced with her response. She seemed different today. Not alert and helpful like she normally was.

"Well then, would you mind helping identify what type of bullet the Silent Assailant chose to murder someone with?" He says with a grin slowly making its way onto his face. Molly chuckles, slightly surprised at his question. 'Sherlock Holmes needs my help', she thought to herself.

Molly plants herself on a nearby stool and starts to examine the bullet. "Let's see here," she closes one eye and tilts her head slightly.

'She has her hair tied up today', Sherlock thinks to himself 'A ponytail suits her'. He replays his thoughts. Suits her? He'd never noticed Molly in that way before. 'How does she normally wear her hair?' he thought. Why on earth did that matter? Had he ever noticed anything about Molly before? Sherlock shrugs of his thoughts just before Molly finishes.

"So, we're looking at a semi automatic pistol that shoots within a 10 metre range" Molly looks up at Sherlock, a small smile playing on her lips at his somewhat surprised face.

"Uh, yes your right absolutely right..." Sherlock stutters. "Well that's all I needed from you." He stands up, clearing his throat. "Thank you for your help Molly."

She turns to him. "Anytime Sherlock, its always a pleasure." Molly's eyes widen as she realizes her last sentence. "Helping you, always a pleasure helping you!". She smiles, cringing inside at how completely useless she gets around him.

Sherlock lets out a stifled laugh and pulls on his coat.  "Same time tomorrow?" he asks innocently. He pulls up the collar of his coat, leaving just enough time for him to catch Molly, once again staring. "Molly?"

Molly blinks out of her daydream. She really needed to stop zoning out like that. "Yeah course," she responds, a little too enthusiastically, making Sherlock smile to himself. He turns, his coat flailing out behind him like a cape and walks through the swinging doors of the lab.

Molly wraps her arms around herself, picturing his smile, his laugh, that small frownline...

'Why?'

'Why god, out of all the 7 billion people out there in the world, did she only ever have feelings for the one consulting detective with the funny hat and cheekbones that could cut her hand, just as the glass had earlier.' she thought to herself. Molly sighed, knowing that someone as mysterious as Sherlock Holmes would ever notice someone like her.

Would he?

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Wow, I actually got through the first chapter! I have no idea if its good or bad but leave comments and tell me what you think so far and I will try and respond to all of them. Also be sure to recommend the story to your friends and followers and spread the love :) The next chapter should be up soon so stay tuned for that and just thank you so much!

-Georgia