Sherlock awoke from his dreamless sleep to see Molly laying with her head on her desk across the office. Her light blue jumper had navy polka dots on it, which caused him to momentarily wonder if he was seeing spots because of the mix of flourescent lighting and the pounding in his head. He blinked and tried to move his hand to his face, letting out an involuntary groan. Molly twitched in the distance, turning to look at him. He almost wished she wouldn't, he felt so weak, pathetic.
Standing up and stretching, she sidled up to him, her long hair falling in her face as she leaned over the cot. She checked his bandages, her hands warm on his chilled skin. "We should probably change these," she murmured, "but first we need to get you out of here. Doctor Moran will be in soon." He grimaced as he struggled to sit up, her arm gently guiding him. "Really Molly, you have a startling amount of bedside manner considering your patients are typically dead."
She smirked at the comment, rising to her feet and pulling him up with her. His arm was round her shoulder as he balanced himself. His weight made her slightly unsteady but she held her ground. They hobbled to the door and Sherlock paused, glancing around, his eyes glancing at the lab coats hung near the door, the cabinet stuffed full of wonderful chemicals and compounds, and coming to rest on the microscope he favoured.
"Did you forget something?," Molly queried, her doe eyes staring up into his handsome albeit battered face inquisitively. He sighed, an almost wistful expression fluttering quickly on his face. "On the contrary. I'm remembering." She stared at him, the fact he was getting at slowly dawning on her. He was not coming back here. A stab went through her chest as she turned her head away, eyes burning. Hesitantly, Sherlock continued toward the door, Molly still attached to him. They did not speak until they reached the cab Molly hailed.
"Thank you Molly, I'll be alright from here," he stated calmly, as if he were merely a little hungover instead of half dead. She was suddenly angry at him for dismissing her so quickly. "Don't be daft, Sh- William," she snapped, glancing to the front of the vehicle. The detective turned, surprised at the vehemency with which she spoke. She got in next to him and instructed the cabby, her eyes flashing with an alluring danger. He stared a few moments longer before closing his eyes, pulling the knit cap she had smuggled in for him low over his brow.
"Bloody clod thinks he'll manage from here," he heard her mumble, and couldn't help but smile.
