Various Array of One Shots ✔️

The Walking Detective >> Sherlock Holmes X Molly Hooper

Title: The Walking Detective

Paring: Sherlock Holmes X Molly Hooper (Sherlolly)

Warnings: mentions body anatomy (nothing too bad)

Spoilers: none I guess

-----------------------------------------

Molly Hooper had been called into work at the last minute, and frankly, she wasn't upset at all. She hasn't had any plans, and when she was into her workspace with the familiar sterile smell of antiseptic in her nose, she forgot about having nothing on except for the fact that she could have kept her streak of watching The Walking Dead - recommended to her from DI Lestrade from Scotland Yard, since she had already gone through all of the released seasons of Pretty Little Liars - because she saw the one person who could turn her day around.

Him.

Sherlock Holmes, the only consulting detective in the entire world, as he had said when they had been introduced.

He and his stiff back and curly hair and uptight manner and she just had to be into him.

The untouchable Mr Holmes who could tell of you'd shagged the night previous or - anyway. He was everything but socially aware and conscious to feelings although he could 'observe', not 'see'.

She wished he could observe her attraction toward the man. It wasn't all in the scarves or the curls on his head, or the strange things he'd ask her to accumulate - thumbs, torsos of bodies, that sort of thing.

Dr Molly Hooper was into Sherlock Holmes and whether she liked it or not, nothing was going to change anytime soon. Because that was how Mr Holmes rolled.

And it was on the fine morning where she had been called into work at a moment's notice, she learned it was because a particular man wished to procure more body parts 'for science'.

"Hello, Sherlock," she smiled, entering the cold white room she had learned to love since getting her job at St Bart's. "More eyes?"

He frowned. She didn't like what it did to his forehead, but frowning meant thinking and that was what Sherlock Holmes did best.

"No, thank you, here to pickup the head I asked for."

She nodded. Head. Head. Not eyes, it was a severed head. Really, she scalded herself, think, Molly.

She directed her often coming...what could Molly say about Sherlock? He was a crush, a friend? Acquaintance maybe, they never really properly talked, but that was mainly because of the 'art of deduction'. Anyway, Molly led Sherlock toward the fridge, where the head of the late Morris Greene was kept at the correct temperature.

"Make sure to refrigerate straight as you get home," she told Sherlock. "He won't last if you don't."

After pulling on a pair of gloves she picked up Mr Greene's head, and, carefully placed the body part in a secured bag.

"Thank you, Molly, I -," Sherlock had turned to accept the head and since the lab benches were so close together, his beautiful almost black coat had caught on a petri dish and sent it flying.

Molly squeaked and watched as the dish arched, and still frozen in her spot, as Sherlock stuck a hand out to catch the dish.

And he caught it.

"My apologies," he glanced down, to the dish and back to Molly. He replaced the dish on the bench, a little further on as so not to fall the next time someone brushed past. "I can tell you're aching to get back to your TV series marathon," he frowned slightly, taking her in. Molly smiled. "Re-watching Pretty Little Liars again, are we?"

She shook her head, and was proud to say she was a detail up from Sherlock Holmes.

"The Walking Dead," she smiled.

His frown deepened, and he added, "Zombies or something, isn't it?"

Molly nodded. "Well, if that's all, I can be off now," she showed a little teeth in her already showing smile. "Thanks for your time, Sherlock. You'll show yourself out?"

"Er, yes," he responded.

And as she walked away, Molly Hooper swore as heard Sherlock Holmes say under his breath in the most vindictive tone she had heard him speak in, "Lestrade should know by now not to get involved..."