Molly, Only Molly (Sherlolly)

Chapter Six

We finally decide on watching Doctor Who instead. I haven't seen it before, but Cami and Evie insist that I try it. We start with Nine, and while I'm not a fan of science fiction, it's actually really addicting. "I'm going to spend all my time watching this now," I say, my voice cracking from tiredness.

It's 2 AM already. Chocolate wrappers and the ice cream carton, still with drips of pink, brown and white swirl together at the bottom. My stomach is feeling a bit ill from all of this, but my mind feels tons better than it did before.

I turn the TV off and we lie in silence for a few minutes. My eyes are struggling to stay open. I'm not used to staying up this late. "So about that guy," Cami says with an annoying sing-song tone.

I throw my arm across my forehead. "Can we not talk about him right now? Or ever?" I groan. Cami pulls my arm off my face.

"We have to. It's practically a sleepover rule," she says.

"Not for me." I let out a forced yawn. Evie pulls out a Hershey's cookies and cream bar and waves it in front of my face. I lunge for it, and she yanks her hand back, laughing in a horrifying way.

"Not until you spill. What does he look like?" Cami's wearing a gigantic smile right now.

I'm not getting out of this. And I really want that chocolate! "He has curly hair. Dark brown, almost black. His eyes are green, and blue, sometimes grey."

Evie pretends to faint. I laugh at her. "Continue." She's sitting back up in a flash.

"He has really light skin, and he always turns up the collar on his coat. He's tall, but he seems taller because of how he acts. Oh, and really high cheekbones." I snap my mouth shut. This is getting embarrassing.

Cami and Evie exchange glances then toss me the chocolate bar. I rip open the package and can feel my heart rate go up just from looking at the creamy deliciousness.

"Someone's blushing!" Cami shouts.

"It's from the chocolate," I say, turning around so they can't see my red face.

We go to sleep a few hours later, with junk food littering the ground and candy staining our teeth.

***

Off goes the alarm, this time playing Recovery by Frank Turner. I'm an alternative girl through and through. I wipe dried spit off the side of my mouth and sit up. I'm still exhausted from the weekend. Cami and Evie stayed over Saturday night too, and my brain feels like it's melted out through my ears.

But I feel happy and relaxed, the remnants of my sugar high clinging to me.

Even the sight of Sherlock sitting on his "reserved" stool doesn't make me annoyed. "Morning, Sherlock!" I say, hanging my coat on its hook and dropping onto the stool beside his. Time to have some fun! "What are you doing this fine morning?" I ask, leaning over to read his messy scrawl. A small wrinkle appears in between his eyebrows, but he ignores me. I search my mind for something else I can say.

My eye falls on his bag, lying on the table across from me. Random tools and- other things are spilling out of the opening. Is that a... Skull? I reach over to pull it out, but a hand shoots out and grabs my wrist.

"Don't touch." He's still looking at that bloody microscope. I twist my arm, but his grip is strong, and starting to hurt! I shake my arm, stand up and pull as hard as I can, and then look up in exasperation. Lestrade is standing there, staring at me, with a coffee lifted halfway to his open mouth.

He shakes his head in confusion. I sit down again, feeling my face heat up. "Let go of my wrist!" I yell.

Sherlock calmly looks up at me, drops my hand and jots down a few more notes. "You've gained weight," he remarks.

I look down at my waist and grit my teeth together. "What a-"

"Morning, Molly." Lestrade smiles pleasantly. He holds out a coffee to me.

I take it. "Thank you." I spit the first sip across the table. "It's black!"

"That would be mine." Sherlock holds out his hand and I place the coffee into it, secretly hoping it will spill over the side and burn his hand.

Lestrade hands me another one. "This one's for you."

Much better! An over the top amount of cream and sugar. "I need to have a look at the Werstiner file." Lestrade's fingers tap on the tabletop.

"Of course." I pull the key to the filing cabinet out of my sweater pocket and walk to the filing cabinet in the corner of the corpse room. Sherlock is mumbling something under his breath, though I could care less. "That pain in the-" I stop before a rant begins.

Lestrade pats me on the shoulder. "You get used to it. He still doesn't remember my name." He smiles wryly.

"And that skull in his bag..." I trail off.

Lestrade stiffens. "I wouldn't ask him about that if I were you. It's... I don't know. It's like it's his only friend. I've seen him talking to it."

"Oh." For some reason I feel saddened by this. Is that sociopath really so alone that he talks to a skull? I pull the file out and hand it to Lestrade.

"Thanks. I need to take it to the station." He walks out the door, thumbing through the pages. I walk to the doorway and stand in it, watching the absentminded detective at his microscope.

Long overdue and I'm so sorry! I haven't been in the mood to write in a while... I'll try and get back into it though!!