A Little Hopeful [Molly/John]

[Molly Hooper]

Molly had decided that working through the night had probably not been a good idea. Smoothing her hair down on the top of her head, she walked over to the side table, taking a sip of the now luke warm coffee she had made her self quite a long time ago. She grimaced at the taste but drained it, knowing she would not make it through the day without some caffeine inside of her system. She glanced over at the dead body on the table, sighing lightly as she looked at the young man lying on it. He had only been twenty two and here he was, lying on the table in front of her for her to figure out why he had died at such a young age.

There was a number of reasons that she choose to work tonight. One was to get her mind off of her boyfriend, or rather, ex boyfriend. He had gone missing for quite a while now and she had no idea what to think of that. She had settled on thinking he had run away with another woman, or in Sherlock's case, another man. According to Sherlock, he was gay and had even given him his number. She put the coffee cup down, another sigh falling from her lips as she though about the second reason.

The second reason she had worked through the night, like she had done for almost a week, is because of Sherlock Holmes. Not once had she seen that mysterious and undecided cute man in this week and she was hoping she would see him soon. She had been watching the door the whole time, wanting him to waltz through the door with his scarf and coat, and ask her to let him look at the dead body on the table. She looked at the door, a hopeful expression on her face. She sighed, seeing no one there.

"Still no Sherlock," she murmured to herself, walking back over to the dead body. "Soon I hope."

[Dr. John Watson]

Sherlock. Stupid, egotistical, pompous Sherlock! If he wasn’t demanding that he hand over his sister’s old phone it was that he went around doing the menial jobs, more often than not the shopping. Apparently the offender of a string of armed robberies had landed himself on a one way ticket to the mortuary. Both Lestrade and John had managed to come up with a list of possible suspects after they had interviewed Norton’s family and found out who his comrades were. He had succeeded in ripping off everyone who had aided him and as a result the investigation had moved from finding him to finding the culprit who had murdered him.

Although Sherlock seemed to have already ‘deduced’ what had happened, but being his usual arrogant self he was simply waiting till there was concrete evidence to back up his hypothesis. Anyone who had known Sherlock for any length of time would already know that whatever idea he had concocted would be inevitably correct, if only several minor details being incorrect. And so Sherlock had shipped off John to go and collect the last bits of data, to St. Bart’s Hospital mortuary. At 5 o’clock in the morning.

He was quite contentedly sleeping, a rare pastime when you were in Mr. Holmes’ company, when Sherlock had kindly woken him up with his eerier enthusiastic greeting. John still occasionally questioned himself as to why he had befriended, if that was the right word, a man who got kicks out of examining dead corpses. It was nothing short of creepy, the second a fresh body was in, Sherlock would run off to it like a little boy at Christmas, leaving John to find his own way there. He sometimes doubted whether he had any other function than to either help prove a point or supply him with an alternative mobile.

John made his way through A&E, drunks sleeping on top of one another, drooling. He almost imagined Harry sitting amongst several burly men whose signs of a hangover were already appearing on their unconscious faces. He didn’t miss the 1am rush. As he moved further and further into the delves of the hospital it became more desolate.

He rubbed his face vigorously with a sigh, he was too tired to have to endure an entire day, especially one that would surely end up with Sherlock pointing out where he had gone wrong. When he made his way through the mortuary door he almost cried out with joy. Molly was probably the only person who wouldn’t attempt to give him grief.

“Molly? I’m glad it’s you; Sherlock wants to get the ballistics report and post-mortem on Jerry Norton. Apparently it should ‘be obvious even to the like’s of me’ after I have a look.” John realised his attempted impression of Sherlock had failed rather miserably. He shook his head and laughed without humour, “To quite frank, I think he just couldn’t be bothered to have to actually move out of his chair to get here.”

(Tired John. XP)

[Molly Hooper]

Molly couldn’t help but feel a little bit of excitement as the door opened but her face fell slightly when she saw it was actually Dr John Watson, not Sherlock as she had wished. She shook her head and gave him a small smile, feeling the own effects of tiredness creating for her a mask of indifference. She was tired, she was slightly high on caffeine and more than anything, she wished John was Sherlock. It wasn’t that she didn’t like John. She did, quite a lot, and she enjoyed talking to him, but he wasn’t the man with the scarf. He was the side-kick, much like she seemed to be when Sherlock asked her for anything at all. But, he would do for now. After all, this is the closest she was going to get to Sherlock today, obviously.

“Hi John,” Molly replied as brightly as she could, brushing her hair to one side as it had fallen out of the obviously way too loose ponytail. “Yes, it’s me. On the late shift. Again. I should stop volunteering for it, I suppose.” She shrugged, gesturing at the body. “I’m supposing this might be what you are looking for. He came in a few hours ago and I’ve been working on it since then. Can’t say I’m having much luck with it.”

She reached to the side and handed him the reports. “Cause of death apparently is asphyxiation. Strangling. But, there’s also bruises on his torso so I would say it wasn’t strangling, more the bag over the head type of death,” Molly told her, shrugging. She paused at Sherlock’s name, giving him a meek smile. “I thought he liked examining dead bodies. It seems to be one of his hobbies.”