Painting Murders - (A Sherlock fanfic)

Night at Bart's

Feeling like a complete idiot in a coat that was far too long and big for me and only wearing one shoe, I exited the cab and hopped into St Bartholomew's Hospital in pursuit of Sherlock, leaving John to once again pay for the taxi journey.

It was easier to walk on the flooring inside as I didn't mind putting my socked foot down on the clean floor.

I pushed through some double doors that lead me into a corridor lined with laboratories. I peered through the glass panels on the doors until I found the right lab.

Sherlock was busy ransacking the cupboards getting out equipment as Molly stood watching, twiddling her fingers nervously.

I swung open the door and she turned to me, her face registering me before she smiled with recognition.

"Oh," She cheeped, "Fancy seeing you here."

I smiled at her, "Yeah. It's a long story." I gestured to myself: dirty, tired and shoeless.

"One best saved for another time." Sherlock said from inside a cupboard, "Unless you want to leave and make nice chatter somewhere else; which is my preferred scenario."

I rolled my eyes at him then turned to Molly who was watching Sherlock again with a blank expression as he got out more flasks and Petri dishes. He stopped to set up the electronic microscope on the desk before resuming gathering up items.

Finally Molly turned to me and whispered, "What's he doing exactly?"

"Some kind of science experiment to try and find out what kind of paint is being used in the recent murders." I said gesturing to my shoe which was sat on the work surfaces. "I stepped in some at a crime scene."

Molly exhaled then frowned, "I wondered if Sherlock was on the case or not. But I thought it was all secrecy since they never brought the bodies here to the morgue."

Sherlock's head suddenly appeared over the work surface, popping up like a jack-in-a-box.

"Not even after they'd been scraped of evidence?" He asked.

"No, never. I haven't got a clue where they would have taken them but then again -," She was cut off in midsentence by Sherlock waving his hands.

"I only wanted a short answer, not a monologue." He said.

Molly made an effort to say something else but stopped herself, closing her mouth again and just stood fiddling with the sleeve of her lab coat nervously.

"Hello Molly," John breathed tiredly, accompanied by a weak smile as he came into the room, "Working late?"

Molly nodded then quickly said, "Would you like anything? Sorry it was rude of my not to ask before. But I never though, you know, since you're all working, and you usually don't want anything because you're working so I never bothered asking." She babbled on, talking in a fast and nervous kind of voice.

"Silence would be marvellous." Sherlock grumbled as he began scraping bits of yellow paint from the bottom of my shoe and collecting them in separate petri dishes.

Molly's face fell and I felt suddenly sorry for her.

"I'd love something. I'll come help you make some coffee or something." I offered, shrugging off Sherlock's coat and hanging it over the back of a tall chair. The lab was warm so I pulled off my thin jacket and because it felt weird walking around in only one shoe, took it off so that I was stood in socked feet.

"I'd love a coffee." John said, thankful of the break in tension, then added, "And I'm sure Sherlock would love one too."

"No I wouldn't!" Sherlock scoffed.