Sherlolly Oneshots

Dark Pasts

Secret crossover shh don't tell anybody.  Lol sorry it's a bit late- I've been pretty busy.
Also orchestra stinks.
Mainly cuz I'm a viola
#violalife

Lol anyway here you go (60th chapter!!)

SCROLL FOR PART TWO! YOULL SEE THE PICTURE

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Molly Hooper stared at the paper in her hands, her eyes wide as she trembled slightly.  Her blood pounded in her ears and the pathologist found herself holding her breath as her eyes skimmed the curvy text.

Suddenly the door opened behind her and Molly let out a small gasp, whipping around only to be greeted by Sherlock Holmes.  She let out a shaky sigh, quickly tucking the paper into her pocket as the detective stared at her with an eyebrow raised.

"You scared me," Molly said weakly.  Sherlock blinked.

"Are- are you alright?"  He asked, his head tilted to the side.  Molly felt her hand clench tightly around the paper in her pocket.

"I'm fine," Molly said, though she couldn't keep her voice from quivering.  Sherlock eyed her suspiciously, his gaze flicking to the body laid out on the lab table.  Molly, suddenly fighting back hot tears, watched as the detective stepped inside and began walking towards the body.

"Right, well, obviously I'm just here for the body, and so I guess," he looked at it for a few moments before turning back around to Molly, who stood hugging herself tightly with the baller paper in hand, "I'm sorry," he eventually said, "but something is obviously not fine here and now I feel obliged to pry and find out what it is."

Molly looked away, biting her lip.  She couldn't tell him... could she?  She'd built up a stable reputation in London and most certainly wasn't planning on letting the contents of some damned letter bring it all to ruins.  "I said I'm fine Sherlock," she said a little too quickly, "I-I've got to go.  Please just do your work and leave."  Molly chucked the balled up paper in the wastebin before turning and leaving, just as the salty tears began to spill.

Sherlock watched as she hurried off, his eyes wide with confusion and interest.  His gaze strayed towards the wastebin.  She'd looked horrible and had obviously not wanted him to know something but still...

Sherlock, with a quick glance back at the door, quietly sauntered his way to the wastebin.  He tilted his head as he peered into it, almost immediately spotting the crumbled up paper amongst others.  The detective snatched it and, with one last guilty glance at the lab door, began to uncrumple it.

The handwriting was from that of a right-handed woman, all neat and curvy.  But something was off; judging by the way the text began to slant down whoever had written the letter was in a rush.  There was a bled-through spot on the paper and it was then when Sherlock realized somebody, not Molly, had been crying while writing it.  The detective blinked as his gaze made its way to the top of the letter. 

Here something was off, something major.  Sherlock squinted and read the first three words over.  Then again.  Then once more, just to be sure.  With his eyebrows furrowed, Sherlock continued to read the letter.  His face slowly settled from confusion to shock.  His eyes widened and eyebrows slowly raised as his gaze began to flick across the text quicker and quicker.  Sherlock dropped the letter when he had finished.  He had to go find a certain pathologist...

Molly leaned on the hallway door, her chin tilted up.  The hallway was very dimly lit and quiet, people rarely used it except for her, Sherlock, and maybe the two other pathologists.  Hardly anybody but Molly enjoyed it's eerie quietness, a trait she found quite comforting.