Hello, so this is my first(finished) Sherlock fic. As I always am when posting in a new fandom, I'm a bit nervous- and when I saw a bit I mean completely wacko anxious.
Anyway, since this is my first go, I thought it best to start small. This fic takes place during 'A scandal in Belgravia' just after Sherlock has Identified 'The Woman's' body. Could be catagorised as a missing scene.
I do not own any rights to Sherlock.
"Oh, Sherlock, you're still here," Molly Hooper remarked upon finding the man standing in the corridor off the morgue. Her eyes flicked to the smouldering cigarette in his hand. "And your smoking," she added. "I thought you'd given up."
"I have," Sherlock replied, then took a long pull from the fag.
"Oh," Molly meekly remarked. "You're really not supposed to do that here, you know. It's a hospital after all." Sherlock's head snapped toward her, his eyes narrowed. Molly was stuck like the proverbial rabbit in the headlamps under that cool citrine gaze of his. She cleared her throat and let out a nervous titter. "Though I suppose your not really bothering anyone," she said lightly.
Sherlock gave her a slight nod and turned his head back to face ahead at the wall.
After a painful – for Molly at least – beat of silence ticked by, Molly ventured to speak again, "I'm sorry about your... friend?" Molly's voice lilted upward at the end turning her statement of condolence into a question. She didn't know who Irene Adler was to Sherlock, but being as he made a positive identification of her based on her, well, unclothed body, she had to be something to him.
Dear god, Molly! What on earth is the matter with you? She admonished herself. Listen to yourself, fishing for information on Sherlock's relationship status while he mourns for someone. Your jealous of a woman lying dead on a slab! How pathetic can you get?
"I hardly knew her," Sherlock replied matter-of-factly. Did he ever speak in any other way? "I only met her once."
"Oh," Molly remarked. What else was she to say? She wondered what could have transpired at this sole meeting which led to him knowing her naked body in detail enough to decipher it from all others.
Sherlock pivoted on his heels toward her. "Good night, Molly," he said tersely, dropping his cigarette to the floor and stomping it out.
The sound of his abrupt voice pulled her out of her illicit musings about him and the late Irene. "Oh, right," she returned, clearing her throat. "Night Sherlock."
He gave her a stiff nod, before stocking off purposefully down the corridor. Molly gazed after him wistfully, her eyes slipping downward, as they always did, to that magnificent posterior of his.
Molly Hooper, she thought, most pathetic person on the planet.
Once Sherlock and his bum were no longer in her view, Molly shook her head at herself and turned to go back into the morgue.
Well thank you for reading my little ficlet. Like I said, it was my first for Sherlock, and I really enjoyed writing it. I have others in the works, including a post TRF. And I am also toying with the idea of adding to this one. So please let me know if you enjoyed this and whether or not you think I should bother continuing in this fandom.