It was kind of an open secret that Molly Hooper had a soft spot for Sherlock Holmes, maybe even a crush? Everyone knew except, of course, Sherlock, who just saw her as the human coffee maker and occasionally the body retriever whenever he was bored and perhaps he saw her as a friend but nothing really more than that.
But Molly was stubborn, clinging to hope that one day, he would notice her or at least say 'hello', before she did.
That early September morning, Molly rushed around her shared flat, pulling her outfit together for the day while balancing a hairbrush in one hand and a tan high heel in the other.
As she searched under the couch cushions for the missing shoe, her roommate, Martha Jones, appeared in the doorway still in her light blue pajamas and white robe, she stared at her friend, still sleepy and yawning, her hospital cellphone clutched in her hand like it was a special teddy bear or a security blanket. Even when Martha was barely awake she was ready for the next nursing shift, it amazed Molly sometimes.
She rubbed her eyes, glancing at the wall clock.
"Seriously, what are you doing up this early," Martha groaned. "You know, you don't actually have to be in until eight. It's barely six-thirty." She said.
Molly gave her a sheepish look while hopping on one foot, wrestling with her found high heel.
"Sherlock texted me," She replied, trying to sound nonchalant, though her cheeks slightly pink. Just saying his name had an effect on her. "He says he needs me, and you know how it is with him," Molly said finally getting her shoe fixed. "When Sherlock says 'come here,' you kind of just go." She sighed.
Martha raised an eyebrow, half exasperated.
"And if he told you to jump off a cliff, you probably would do that, too, yeah?" She remarked.
Molly scowled, running her hand through her hair briefly glancing at her reflection in the hallway mirror.
"Yeah, but it might be important,: She insisted. "Sherlock doesn't usually message unless something's up." Molly pointed out.
"Or unless he's out of coffee or in desperate need of a corpse," Martha replied back, smirking.
Molly rolled her eyes, her friend just didn't understand.
"That's not fair. Sometimes it really is important." She defended.
Martha snorted.
"Right, sure," She remarked. "One of these days, you're going to realize he's just stringing you along for caffeine and dead bodies." Martha warned.
Molly just frowned, deep down she knew Martha had a point. Sherlock always saw her as a pushover assistant and nothing more. Still, Sherlock was her friend. Maybe, sort of. And with all the weird recent murders lately, maybe he really did need her at for her expertise this time.
Molly sighed.
"Look, I don't have time for this," Molly said. "I'll text you if anything wild happens," She promised, grabbing her bag and keys. "Besides, if anyone's going to get mixed up in Sherlock's chaos, it might as well be me." She shrugged.
Martha just shook her head, watching Molly rush out the door, sighing.
"She'll never learn." Martha muttered, but Molly was already out in the parking lot ready for whatever Sherlock Holmes might throw at her.
Molly finally made it to the lab, a little breathless after her dash across the parking lot and up three flights of stairs, thanks to a broken elevator. She found Sherlock already at his usual table bent over the microscope, the sleeves of his shirt rolled messily to his elbows, his dark hair a little wilder than usual. His black coat hanging loosely on the rack nearby in the corner.
She paused at the doorway for a moment, smoothing her lab coat and tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear before approaching him.
"Morning, Sherlock," She greeted brightly, her voice wavering between anticipation and mild exasperation from her journey, earlier.
Without looking up, Sherlock muttered something unintelligible, his attention fixed on whatever was hidden under his lens. Molly peeked at his notes, a bunch scribbles on a note pad but nothing she could make out.
Finally, she tapped his arm, making him jump and nearly dropping a petri dish.
He glanced up at her, blinking at her as if seeing her for the first time.
"Oh. Molly. You're here," He muttered. He then held his hand at her as if expecting something.
"Well?" Sherlock questioned.
She hesitated. "Well, what…?"
"The coffee," Sherlock said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "That's why I texted you. I need some coffee." He replied simply.
Her heart fell.
He just wanted coffee, Molly thought, her hope fading into disappointment, Of course, why should she be surprised?
Molly just sighed and nodded, forcing a small smile.
"Right. Coffee. Two sugars, if I recall?" Molly guessed.
Sherlock briefly glanced at her before shaking his head.
"Actually, two coffees today," he corrected, tapping a chewed pen against the table, eyes never leaving his work.
Molly cocked her head, curious.
"Two? You planning to pull an all-nighter or just planning a caffeine hoarding?" she teased.
Sherlock paused, staring at her, oblivious to her joke.
"Of course, they're not for me," Sherlock scoffed. "I have a friend stopping by. Should be here any minute." He said.
Molly raised her eyebrow. As far as she knew, Sherlock didn't really have any friends except, maybe John, and he was out of town on his honeymoon with Mary.
"Oh? So, who's this mystery friend that's coming?" She asked.
He smirked, clearly enjoying his air of mystery.
"You'll see," He told her. "Old friend, known him for years. Brilliant lad…not as brilliant as me, of course," Sherlock stated.
Sherlock then peered at her face, squinting.
"Are you wearing makeup?" He asked staring.
Molly's cheeks warmed. Earlier, she put on a little pink eyeshadow, secretly hoping Sherlock would notice just not quite like this.
"Um, yeah, just a bit of eyeshadow," She admitted, self-consciously touching her eyelid.
He nodded solemnly.
"Hmm. That explains the optical interference. Very distracting." He noted.
Now feeling silly, Molly mumbled something about removing it and retreated to the washroom. After washing off the eyeshadow she slowly returned to the lab and found
Sherlock chatting with a young man dressed in khakis, a blue button-down shirt peeking from under his slightly wrinkled lab coat, they seem to know each other. The young looked amused as Sherlocked shared something private with him Molly guessed this had to be the mysterious friend.
Sherlock noticed her and smiled.
"Molly, this is Detective David Smith, an old friend from university. David, meet Molly Hooper, she's my assistant.
Molly frowned.
"Actually, I'm the specialist registrar for the hospital's morgue." She corrected.
David smiled extending his hand, his amber eyes twinkling with warmth.
"Lovely to meet you, Molly," He said with a thick Scottish accent that caught Molly's attention, it was so charming.
"Nice to meet you, too," Molly replied, shyly, shaking his hand. He was even taller than Sherlock, she noticed.
"So, what brings you here." Molly asked.
"David's apartment flooded last night," Sherlock interrupted. "So, he's crashing at my place for a bit. Until John's back from his honeymoon, anyway." He added.
Molly winced sympathetically.
"Oh, that sounds awful." She said.
David just waved his hand.
"It's not so bad," He replied. "Gives me an excuse to hang out this guy and maybe catch up on holiday," David said. "Always could use a vacation." He shrugged.
Sherlock cleared his throat.
"Yeah, well not too much relaxing," Sherlock noted. "I'm going to need you to help me with this latest murder case," He said. "They found another body, should be exciting," He grinned. "And I want you there with me." He insisted.
Molly almost smirked, Sherlock needing help just seemed so odd, David must be really good, She realized.
Sherlock then stared at Molly's empty hands.
"Uh, coffee?" He asked.
Molly blushed embarrassed.
"Right, the coffee! I'll… I'll go get it now." She said heading towards the door.
She briefly glanced back at David, who flashed her a warm smile, making her cheeks turn pink.
David was certainly different than Sherlock, she realized. "And maybe that was a good thing." She pondered smiling a little.