Why Fireflies Flash

Forgive and Forget

St. Bart's Hospital

"This hospital's full of people dying, doctor. Why don't you go and cry by their bedside? See what good it does then"

Anabeth rolls her eyes from her spot in front of the computer screen, where she's been sitting for the last hour or so. She hadn't met with them immediately, choosing to go to her hair appointment first, so now in addition to her straight, high pony tail, she also had a full fringe of bangs covering her forehead, and was put in charge of watching the program for the mass spectrometer run through results.

"Just because you or I don't, doesn't mean others don't have feelings Holmes."

He doesn't answer. Just pushes Anabeth out of the way as the computer alerts them to a result.

"Any luck?" Miss Hooper says as she cheerfully bursts through the doors. She bounces past Anabeth to stand between her and Sherlock.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't..."

Anabeth freezes at the voice and dares not turn. Despite closing her eyes tightly, she still knows Sherlock is eying her curious.

"Jim! Hi! Come in! Come in," Molly repeats. Once he's standing behind her, she motions to her other guests. "Jim, this is Sherlock Holmes."

"Ah," Jim says like he recognizes the name from one of many stories told to him.

She looks to John. "And uhh, sorry..."

"John Watson, hi."

Molly smiles apologetically and spins around like she's forgotten something. "And Anabeth Ryder."

Anabeth has never been more happy for Mycroft's persistence as she is then. She doesn't even glance from her phone with her short, southern "Heya."

"Hi," Jim says noncommittal. "So you're Sherlock Holmes. Molly's told me all about you. Are you on one of your cases?"

Anabeth looks up and squints at her lover.

"Jim works in IT upstairs," Molly tells the group. "That's how we met. Office romance." She says it with a certain feel of "Ha! I don't need to love you!"

Anabeth would have filed it a way for later, but she's too distracted by the way Sherlock sneaks a glance at Jim.

"Gay," he mumbles.

Molly stops mid giggle. "Sorry, what?"

"Nothing," Sherlock lies, shaking his head. "Um, hey."

"Hi," Jim breathes. He swings his hand slightly in a faux nervous tick and knocks something to the floor. He scrambles to pick it up and lay it back in it's original spot. "Well, I best be off. I'll see you tonight at the Fox?" he asks of Molly. "At six-ish?"

Molly nods eagerly. And that she does store for later.

"Bye, it was nice to meet you." Although his hand is at the top of Molly's back, Jim's looking at Sherlock almost longingly. Anabeth can taste blood, as it fills her mouth from where she's bitten her tongue.

"You too," John says after an awkward moment.

He smiles halfheartedly. He leaves then, shooting Anabeth a cursory glance. Their gaze locks briefly before he's behind her and gone.

"What do you mean gay?" Molly asks as soon as the door is shut. "We're together."

"And domestic bliss must suit you, Molly. You've put on three pounds since I last saw you."

"Two and a half," she nearly growls.

"Ehr, three."

"He's not gay," and this time she does growl. "Why do you have to spoil- He's not."