Sherlolly Oneshots

A Sea of Candles

When the power goes out at 221B.  Sorry not sorry for this one...

~~~

"Are you sure that's the right guy, Sherlock?"

"Of course I'm sure, Graham."

"It's Greg."

"Just go arrest the guy.  I know what I'm doing.  Unlike all of Scotland Yard apparently."

A silver-haired man sighed and rolled his eyes, walking away from a man who was texting quickly on his phone. 

"Oh, and George?"

The silver-haired man looked up, an annoyed tiredness written over his face.  The man on his phone grinned and tucked the device in his pocket, the wind whipping around his dark, curled hair.

"What is it, Sherlock?"

The man, Sherlock, smirked.  He stuffed his hands in his pocket and winked at the silver-haired man, Greg.

"Do be quick to send me another case.  Scotland Yard's incompetence is my great pleasure, as you know.  Text me when you find one, which shouldn't be hard considering you must have a stack of cases you're stuck on.  I'll be at the lab, I need to wrap something up."

Sherlock turned away, his coat billowing in the wind as he melted into the night's shadows. Greg Lestrade looked after him with his mouth hanging slightly open.  He let out a shaky sigh, closing his eyes and trying to control the annoyance that boiled in his blood.

The inspector let out a frustrated huff and left the crime scene, muttering a few colorful curse words under his breath as he went.

Sherlock Holmes ultimately decided to walk over to Bart's, seeing as it wasn't that far away and he decided he could use the solitude.  Sherlock's thoughts were occupied by the case, he had closed it up, yes, but something still itched in the back of his mind.

All of the chemical components fit, the man found guilty was in the right place at the right time, he had motive, there was no reason he shouldn't be guilty.

Yet still, the terror in his eyes and the intensity of his pleads haunted Sherlock.  He had seemed so... genuine.  Sherlock let out a huff, shaking the thoughts from his head as he grasped the door to Bart's and flung it open.  The man was guilty.  All of the evidence pointed towards it, it made perfect sense, and that was that.

Sherlock walked down the dark, empty halls of the west wing of the hospital, dependent on his muscle memory to maneuver through the dark.

He paused when he heard humming, looking around to see a small light shining under the door to the pathology lab.  An eyebrow cocked Sherlock walked in, only to see Molly bobbing her head along to music played in head, focusing on the microscope in front of her.  Sherlock smirked and crept up behind her, his footsteps quiet.

"Molly?"  Sherlock asked, bending down near her ear.  Molly let out a small gasp and whipped around, the sharp movement nearly making her fall back in her chair.

With quick reflexes Sherlock lunged forward and caught Molly's wrist, spinning her around and placing his hand on her back.  Molly blinked, her eyes wide.

"Sherlock?!  Don't scare me like that!"  He gave her a guilty grin, shrugging.

"Sorry," he said, though the humor was still laced through his voice.  Molly rolled her eyes, but then froze.  She looked at Sherlock, registered how close he was to her, and, face turning bright red, quickly stepped back.  Sherlock raised an eyebrow as she tore from his grasp.

"What are you still doing in here?"  He asked as Molly quickly turned her face to hide her flush. 

"I, uh.  I don't know.  It's just that something about this case didn't seem right.  No offense to your deduction skills or anything!  I mean all the evidence points towards him but-"