[Author's Note: Even though I ship Sherlolly with all my heart, I read a Martin/Molly story somewhere and thought they were quite interesting together.

So here we are. Enjoy!]

"Thanks a lot, Skipper! Have a nice weekend!" Arthur called out, cheerily.

"You, too, Arthur," Martin said tiredly, trudging away. He had just helped Arthur hoover the plane, after a ten-hour flight during which he lost spectacularly to Douglas on a game of Simon Says. The punishment: Martin had to help Arthur clean the plane after their flights. For an entire month. And to top it all off, he didn't even have time to sleep his terrible day off; he had a miserable delivery job in his hideous van.

Martin parked the van at the back of the medical supply company and went inside to retrieve his cargo, wrinkling his nose at the weak but persistent smell of antiseptic. When he saw the large package of medical equipment that was waiting for him, Martin was dismayed, but to his surprise the box was lighter than it looked. He got in the van and drove to his destination, St. Bartholomew's, all the while shaking his head to wake himself up.

When he got there, Martin looked at his clipboard to see where in the hospital he was to deliver the package. "Ugh. The morgue?" he said to himself. As Martin neared the morgue, he could hear someone coming his way. A tall man—roughly as tall as Martin, who was none too short himself—was walking away from the morgue in long strides, as a smaller man exited the morgue as well, struggling as he tried to put on his jacket and catch up to his friend at the same time.

"Sherlock, wait! As honored as I am that you would actually tell me your plan for once, you can't possibly think that'll work."

"Don't be silly, John. Of course it will."

Martin called out to them, "Excuse me, could you hold the—" But they had already vanished. Martin sighed, and put down the box. He opened the door, and shuddered in the cold room. He knew there was nothing to fear in the morgue, but nonetheless he didn't like the feeling of being surrounded by dead bodies. "Um, hello?" he said, his voice higher than he would have liked.

"Just a minute!" someone said from the back. A brunette in a white gown entered the room, with a gigantic stack of paperwork. Martin rushed to help her, and as he took the files and set them down on the nearest table, he heard the woman let out a gasp.

"It can't be— You look just like— Sorry, it's only that you look like-like someone I know." And as the woman stared at Martin, he couldn't help noticing how attractive she was. She had dark brown eyes that reminded him of the trees deep in the woods he loved to play in as a child. She had porcelain-white skin, save for her blushing cheeks. Her lips were the loveliest shade of—

"Thank you," she said.

"What?" Dear god, did she know what I was thinking? What the hell was I thinking? I've only just met her. I shouldn't be thinking about her lips, or any part of her at all, for that matter.

"Oh! you-you're quite welcome," he stammered, as he realized she meant for helping with the files.

"So, can I help you?" she said. She was smiling, although the uncertain look in her eyes was not yet gone.

"Ah, um, yes. Are you, uh, Miss Hooper? I'm delivering a package from Klein Medical Equipment."

"Oh, great! Do you think you could bring it into my office, please?"

"Of course," Martin said, lifting the box from the ground. He followed her into the back, where he could smell the faintest scent of spring flowers. He wondered if she would smell the same.

She opened the box with the excitement of a child on Christmas morning. He smiled as she carefully inspected each equipment, consulting an enormous book on her desk.

"Um, right, so, if you could just sign here-" he said, holding out his clipboard.

"Oh! Right." She signed her name, and returned the clipboard to Martin.

She gave Martin one long look, before saying, "Thanks."

"Not at all," he replied, not moving from his spot.

"Uh, goodbye?" She said, hesitantly.

"Oh. Um. Right. Have a nice day," Martin said, before turning away from the brunette.

As Martin finished all of his deliveries and drove back to his place, he couldn't stop thinking about the pretty doctor. And as tired as he was, it took him a long time to fall asleep.