A/N: So this came to me during my trip home from Scotland (home to Tartan and Huge BLOODY Hills!) This hit me on my late night drive home from the airport. Please enjoy and review.
The lines signify the notes that Molly and Sherlock pen, I know it can be a bit confusing BUT it will not let me font change!
All mistakes are my own and I apologise profusely.
Molly Hooper flung herself down at her desk and sighed; resting her head on her table she berated herself for acting like a star-struck idiot in front of Sherlock. She had degrees for god sake!
No more! She growled to herself and on impulse pulled a pad and pen and wrote all that she'd like to say to bloody Sherlock.
You take great delight in putting me down don't you? You enjoyed ruining my life and my lunch dates, you want me to be alone, end up a crazy cat lady perhaps?
You had fun when you complimented me only they weren't truly compliments were they? Just insults that you find humorous.
You enjoyed my doubt and worry when you said Jim was gay...only he outsmarted you Sherlock.
He wasn't gay, most definitely wasn't pretending the few nights of pleasure he gave me. A part of me is very glad you got beaten by James.
The rest of me curses that I'm not as smart as you; I should've seen how he wanted to hurt you and not want me. Once again you came out on top. He only wanted you. I was nothing to him and I'm still nothing to you.
I can never match up to you.
You may be good with cold hard facts Sherlock Holmes but you are shit with people. People aren't cold and hard, feelings aren't stone, they're fluid; water or smoke. You can't get a grasp on them. That's the only field I'm better than you, humans. And I deal with dead ones each day.
I may be mediocre and average in your eyes. I may not be smart, and I may not know how what a stranger had for breakfast, but I know about grief and death and life and love. I also know how much it hurts, how it lifts a person up and how it feels, something you don't seem to know, or want to know.
I also know the Earth goes around the Sun Mr Holmes.
She left the hastily penned letter under one of her case files and walked out of the mortuary; she needed sugar and chocolate. And now.
Sherlock Holmes strolled through the doors of St Bart's mortuary, expecting to see faithful Molly Hooper sat at her desk, eager and waiting for his arrival. Only her desk was empty and judging by the state of it (worse than her normal cluttered self) she was pissed off.
Sherlock's curiosity was immediately piqued. Seeing no sign of his cadaver that he had arrived for, he sat at her office chair and rifled through the paperwork.
Boring Boring Boring case files, he barely read how she covered up his presence in her reports, his experiments and missing parts.
A note with his name on it; what's this. A Love letter? Oh god please not...
When Molly came back, one ring doughnut already gone, another covered in chocolate icing and sprinkles half eaten. She glanced at the clock. Shit, Sherlock had been due back to check on the bruising of his latest quirk. But in a need to prove to herself she had a brain, she'd given herself a break and mentally tested herself.
Coming back to her desk she was sure she hadn't let it that scattered and where was her blue biro? She'd left it next to her case file covering the note.
Oh god the note, Sherlock never tidied up after himself; Mrs Hudson and John always lamented his scatter brained tidying, it had never important in his mind to clear up after himself.
Scrabbling around on the desk she found her note, but with another stapled to it.
I enjoy your company. He'd crossed through his first line.
I enjoy knowing I can rely on you.
I know you'll be there for me no matter what Miss Hooper.
I know that when James Moriarty was with you, even if he hadn't wanted to toy with me... He was wrong for you ... If he was the character I deduced him to be he'd never have suited you. Let's face It Molly you are rare, I've never found your willingness in another.
So you had sex with Moriarty? ... Was he good?
I need you as my pathologist, your feelings for me helped somewhat and I'll admit I exploited them; it's the smart thing to do, play your advantages.
Humans change too much emotionally; they quick fire through random feelings, the way humans interact baffled me, why choose to feel that way. But I can understand it, I just don't share it.
Love is nothing but chemicals as is grief, science deals with the other two as well, you put pressure on love because like every average Joe, you feel the need to believe in life and that there's a higher purpose … that isn't what you make it.
I don't put you down Molly, I point things out. I don't compliment or insult. I make statements, how you use your feelings is your choice… and stupidity.
As if it matters whether the earth or it's the sun or vice versa, it isn't relevant in my life!
Re-reading the note several times, Molly shook with anger. He was so up himself! She berated herself again, forcing her romantic side to disappear she tore off another sheet of paper and scribbled furiously.
It's DOCTOR Hooper
You have a Cheek Sherlock Holmes!
Love and life is what you make it; you make yours deluded with chemicals and redundant Scientifics. Mine is one of dreams and wishes. I'm proud of that; I'm human… unlike some.
Yes Sherlock, Jim was incredible in bed and knows his way around a woman... I believe he bested you there, even if he hasn't elsewhere.
Furious with herself for letting him find the first note, one that was meant to be private she left the other atop her desk and checked herself out for the evening. Apologising to her boss on the way out feigning a migraine, she left St Bart's in a huff.
Sherlock came back a little while after Molly had left; sweeping past the security guard who had long given up trying to stop Mr Holmes, the detective entered her work place hoping to see her little puppy eyes waiting for him with a corpse. Instead he found her second note taped to her computer screen.
Scanning it briefly he couldn't imagine the anger saturating her voice as it so clearly did her writing.
Forget the cheek Doctor Hooper
That sounded like a challenge.
I like a challenge.
Leaving the note in the same place she did, he left the building, barely aware that he hadn't seen his cadaver, his mind processing and analysing Molly Hooper.
The good Doctor came into work the next morning, batting away concerns for her migraine and said it was just stress, family problems etc etc. Trying desperately to forget about the vexing detective she plunked herself down at her desk and immediately saw his addition.
Swearing under her breath, she pulled out her phone and sent three words to the maddening man.
Are you kidding?!
Without any hesitation his reply swiftly followed.
I seldom joke SH
Not really thinking of her reply, Molly decided if he wanted to play games and test her mentality then she would rise to the challenge.
A challenge huh? It'll take some beating him…
His reply nearly made her fall off of her chair.
I get more than one chance; no doubt he had more than one. Only fair.
Seven your place? John has Mary round. SH
Smirking to herself, Molly quickly darted a reply then turned her phone off. She didn't need his texts as a distraction while working today.
Game on Mr Holmes