A/N: It seemed that SH was upset that I mixed up Mind Palace and Mind Castle, alas. That has been corrected, I assure you. On the other hand, SH suggesting more Sherlolly? It made me smile infinitely.
On the matter of Sherlolly romance, though, I might have to wait and see how Series 3 goes. And if I write it, it'll probably be in a different story. That said, I'm the last person in the world to object to Sherlolly friendship fluff, so here you are with some more of that.
By the way. This chapter is quite nonsensical (well, more so than the other ones) and not to be taken seriously. (Though if you DO take it seriously, I'd be very honoured and thankful. xD)
If you have any geeky ideas or constructive criticisms, please drop 'em in a review! :)
Sleeping Beauty Transposon
"Molly, what are you doing?"
Molly jerked and spun around, marker in hand. Her heart fluttered as she recognized the skeptical countenance of the world's only consulting detective.
"Oh hello Sherlock," she chuckled nervously, tiptoeing in an attempt to hide the sketches on the white board from his sight. It was probably futile, because he was so much taller. "It's nothing. I'm just designing an experiment to insert the green fluorescent protein gene into a pig embryo."
"Oh really?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow and remarked flatly, "Does the GFP gene sequence, which should consist solely of four letters of the alphabet, take the shape of a human? Don't lie, Molly; you know it's useless to try and hide anything from me. You were distracted and drawing; I could see it the moment I entered the lab and observed your hand movements."
"I didn't think anybody would be here at six in the morning," Molly muttered more to herself than to Sherlock, and submissively stepped aside, shoulders sagged.
"I am not anybody, am I?" Sherlock reminded with a shrug and turned to the board. His features sank into a frown. "...What in God's name is this?"
Molly bit her lip. Normally she would be flustered whenever Sherlock asked a question, but this time she was only trying very hard to refrain from smiling. "Nothing. Just my vision of the Sleeping Beauty, I suppose."
Sherlock looked blankly from Molly's jolly face to the drawing, and back to Molly again.
"This is not some sleeping fairytale princess," he declared out loud at last, both eyebrows raised. There was a strange expression on his face that mingled curiosity and disgust. "This, Molly, is John Watson in a dress."
Molly turned away and cleared her throat. "Please, Sherlock. What gave you that idea?"
"No, no, no, don't do that sarcasm thing; it doesn't suit you," Sherlock groaned and inched his face closer to the picture on the board. "You took art lessons in college; not only is it painfully obvious from my occasional glimpses at your lab notebook drawings of experimental apparatus, you also sometimes babble this to me yourself. Didn't you often say you're best at drawing caricatures? This is John, Molly. This is John in a bloody pink princess dress."
He scowled and turned to her when she didn't reply, and saw with vexation that she was giggling into her hands. "Molly, just answer this question for me. Why?"
"We all feel silly sometimes," Molly replied with an expressive smile at her lips. "Besides, the drawing is really just my take on Sleeping Beauty with a... um, slightly manly face. It's not... it's not John at all." Her last words were slurred, and she had to turn away again to stifle another giggle.
Sherlock maintained his stare at her, unamused. "All right. Suppose this really isn't John with breasts. Explain now to me the identity of the figure beside Jo - the princess - who appears about to - " he paused, lips twitching in extreme distaste as he fished for the right words to say. "- contact his lips to... 'her' countenance. It'll be hard to convince me that it's not me, particularly when you've drawn an arrow to the cheek and annotated it informatively as 'Sherlock's zygoma xxxxxx'. In multiple colours."
Molly blushed and fidgeted with the edges of her lab coat in genuine nervousness this time. "Well, j-just because he has your cheek bones doesn't mean that he's necessarily a representation of you - "
"All right, all right!" God, how she hated it when he spoke in that pressing and authoritative tone. "I got distracted when I was designing my experiment and started thinking about the Sleeping Beauty transposon system. I... I started personifying it."
Her voice trailed off, and she glanced repeatedly at the detective for his reactions. Sherlock continued to stare blankly at her with a raised brow, and made no effort to respond.
Could it be that he didn't know about Sleeping Beauty transposons? "Um, a transposon is a segment of DNA that jumps around in a genome and inserts itself to different places. We connect it to foreign genes and use it to insert the foreign genes into an embryo's genome, so we can express foreign genes in an animal and study the genes' effects. It's really useful for many different types of experiments! And, um, well, the Sleeping Beauty transposon is one of the many types of transposons, and it's called Sleeping Beauty because - "
"Because at the time scientists first discovered it, it was inactive and couldn't insert itself into other genomes. Its activity was restored by artificial resurrection, hence the name 'Sleeping Beauty'." Sherlock finished off impatiently, rolling his eyes as Molly's head lowered in embarrassment. "Of course I know what it is, Molly. I want to know why."
"B-But I've already told you. I got distracted - "
"Why me and John?"
"Oh," Molly couldn't hold back her smile, and for a while forgot all about her embarrassment. "Well... I mean... John was limping pretty badly when I saw him for the first time. I didn't think working with you on your cases could restore his leg so quickly. And to think you make him do all those incredible things now! Fighting criminals, investigating crime scenes, interrogating people... I've read his blog, you know, and it's just amazing to see what he can do - "
"For God's sake, not his blog again!" Sherlock groaned in exasperation, but Molly was too excited narrating her rationale to care. "- You definitely brought out all his hidden abilities, Sherlock! He was a perfect Sleeping Beauty transposon, and your kiss was just what he needed to resume activity!"
A silence followed. Molly was smiling to herself until she saw an apparently revolted expression on Sherlock's face. Then she thought carefully about what she had just said, and soon squeaked and waved her arms and babbled incoherently, "Oh God. T-That's not what I mean. I mean that you were just the right artificial kiss - artificial resurrection - oh God."
She scrambled under Sherlock's skeptical gaze and grabbed at the eraser. "Never mind. I'm just going to erase this now and then we can all get to work peacefully."
"No, no," Sherlock seized her wrist before the eraser could touch the board, the strange frown on his face slowly morphing into a mischievous smile. "Molly, that is actually surprisingly accurate."
"Really?" Molly's jaw dropped, and her eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. The kiss?
But Sherlock didn't seem to hear her, as he released her wrist and began intensively musing at the drawings. "Indeed, Sleeping Beauty transposons lack the ability to jump around the genome until they are artificially resurrected. John lacked the ability to jump around, period, because of his leg. While the problem with John's leg was rather more psychological than physical, it's true that the taxi driver case, which was my case, was what snapped him out of it. It's also clear that I was the one who persuaded him to join my work and re-kindled his yearning for thrill and danger! Rather fitting comparison, Molly, and you had best cherish this comment, because illogical things such as similes and metaphors rarely pass my standards of reason."
Molly didn't quite know how to respond. So he didn't catch my comment about the kiss? Her brows began to furrow, but soon she didn't question it any more. It was Sherlock she was dealing with after all. What could he possibly know about (unintentional) innuendos?
Before she could chuckle to herself at her silliness, however, Sherlock's surprisingly upbeat voice interrupted. "In fact, because your comparison is so fitting, Molly, I'm now convinced that I should at least try to get John into a frilly dress."
Seriously? Molly tried very hard to contain her laugh and, as a result, projected a stifled oink.
Sherlock glanced at her with a raised brow, as if not comprehending her amusement. "Do you object, Molly? You started it after all." He pointed a long index finger in all seriousness at the supple, inflated chest of the Sleeping Beauty Transposon John caricature.
"N-No," Molly wiped away happy tears. "But... why?"
"Good flatmates must learn to share everything, as Mrs. Hudson often says," replied Sherlock dryly. "I don't think I've ever seen John in embarrassing clothing, while he has seen me in nothing more than a sheet in Buckingham Palace. I hardly think it's fair."
I don't want to know, Molly thought, trying very hard to force scandalous non-cartoon images of Sherlock and John away from her imagination.
"Well now, where can I find a God-awful pink princess dress?"
At the sight of Sherlock eagerly rubbing his hands together like a mischievous child, Molly couldn't help but sweetly smile.
"I think I can help."
'What the HELL did you and Sherlock get up to yesterday!?
Molly was smiling when she heard an alert and saw John Watson's name on her phone screen. Molly was giggling into her palm when she read the text. Molly was grinning like a fool when she typed her reply.
':S I don't know what you're talking about.
'SURE you don't! I'm not stupid, you know! I just "observed" as Sherlock often so pompously told me to, and I saw YOUR NAME sewn inside that hideous dress!
Molly had to walk away from her experiments, because she was trembling with amusement.
'LOLOLOL DID HE ACTUALLY DO IT OMG :DDDD
'I KNEW it! I KNEW you were somehow involved!
'Hardly a difficult deduction, as SHERLOCK HOLMES would often say!
'It was emotionally TRAUMATIZING! You owe me a big apology, and so does Sherlock!
'I swear, if you're ignoring me!
Molly was ignoring him, partly because she was laughing too hard, and partly because she was trying to re-draw Sleeping Beauty Transposon John on her white board; how could she bear going back to work when John was being so delightfully hilarious and re-wakening all her drawing vibes? In fact, she was completely prepared to turn her phone on silent and concentrate on her sketch, until John's next text caught her eye.
'Well I hope the First-Aid Kit in your lab is stocked!
'OH YOU'LL FIND OUT!
Molly's smile faded, and worry clouded her face. She quickly texted a string of "HELLO"s and other inquiries to the angry Dr. Watson, even a few apologies. But John never replied again.
Thankfully, Molly was not kept in suspense for long. At 6:45AM, the door to her lab burst open, and in came Sherlock with a large, bleeding bruise at a corner of his lips.
"Good God!" Molly exclaimed and scrambled toward the First-Aid Kit behind the door (which was, fortunately, well-stocked). "Sherlock, what happened?" She asked anxiously, even though she was quite certain she knew.
Sherlock shrugged nonchalantly and sat on her chair, twinkles in his eyes. "All that was supposed to happen happened. Well, except for one thing I couldn't really avoid. Anyway. Approximately an hour ago, I successfully woke before John and, observing that he was rather deeply asleep, I stuffed, shall I say, him into the princess dress."
Molly pursed her lips as she cleaned his wound, not sure if she should be more amused or concerned. "B-But you didn't kis - "
"Of course I didn't kiss him! I 'resurrected' him using my mannequin; had to slap it hard against his face a few times. He slept like the dead. And don't press the cotton ball too hard! It stings!"
"So... he woke up to the kiss of a mannequin and found himself in the..."
"And then he came after you and punched..."
"Yeah. Punched me in the face. Not quite happy with that part, but his morning rage is hard to dodge."
"Film it on my phone? Everything. Well, nearly everything. You didn't expect me to get the punch in the face, did you?"
The final silence was short. Soon, the lab was filled with a most unusual sound.
It was a mixture of low baritone chuckles and soft high giggles, resonating down the terribly-lit hallway, signalling the start of a delightful new day in the St. Bart's morgue.