𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐄𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 || 𝐁𝐁𝐂 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤

13: St Barts

When the cab pulled up outside St Bart's hospital, I jumped out of the cab, leaving Sherlock to pay for our fare. I pulled my leather jacket tighter around me in a futile effort to keep out the cold. My brown leather jacket was the only piece of sentimental clothing I had. It was old but I kept it in good condition.

Sherlock raced ahead, so I had no choice but to follow him, cursing Mycroft Holmes for the hundredth time.

Sherlock pointedly ignored me as we got the lift. I felt sort of bad for snapping at him like that. But he couldn't deny that he was a pain in the ass.

We reached the end of a corridor and went through one of the doors that read morgue.

Cheerful, I thought to myself. Once inside I saw a young woman with mousy brown hair filling in some paperwork.

Sherlock strode over to the corpse on the slab and examined it.

"How fresh?" he asked the woman.

"Just in.67, natural causes. Used to work here. I knew him, he was nice," she said in a timid voice. I looked between her and Sherlock and made an obvious deduction as to what their dynamic was.

"Fine. We'll start with the riding crop," said Sherlock bluntly and pulled a riding crop out of his coat pocket. I just stared.

"Is there a reason why you carry a riding crop around in your pocket?" I asked.

The woman laughed at my question. I raised a hand and waved awkwardly.

"Hi, I'm Alex," I said, like an idiot.

"Molly Hooper, nice to meet you," she said.

"Are you and Sherlock friends?" she asked curiously, nervously even, her eyes darting between the both of us.

"No," Sherlock and I said at the same time. We glanced at each other. "We are... acquaintances," I said after some thought. Molly smiled, seeming relieved.

All of a sudden I heard a loud THWACK. I turn to find Sherlock beating the crap out of the corpse.

"So, bad day, was it?" said Molly jokingly.

"I need to know what bruises form in the next 20 minutes. A man's alibi depends on it. Text me," he said, walking the lab counter, deep in thought over one of his cases.

"Listen, I was wondering. Maybe later, when you're finished- " she started.

"You're wearing lipstick. You weren't wearing lipstick before." Sherlock noted, looking at her.

"I, er I refreshed it a bit," said Molly, smiling nervously.

"Sorry, you were saying?" said Sherlock, distracted.

I bit back a laugh, marvelling at his stupidity.

"I was wondering if you'd like to have coffee," finished Molly determinedly.

"Black, two sugars, please. I'll be upstairs. Come on Alexandria, I have something you might be interested in."

We both went out of the door to another lab, I heard Molly faintly say "OK," as the door slammed behind us.

~~~~~

"Sherlock can you pass me the Sodium Hydroxide," I said impatiently, holding a hand out, not even looking up from the microscope. Sherlock was opposite me using a pipette to evenly distribute blood samples on Petri dishes.

He passed it to me, looking at my experiment quizzically.

"What are you doing?" he asked curiously.

"Testing a theory."

I felt Sherlock roll his eyes in front of me.

He passed me the Sodium Hydroxide. I mixed a bit of it with some Hydrochloric acid. Quite boring I know, but I was testing my memory.

"NaOH+HCI = H2O+NaCI..." I recited under my breath. I saw Sherlock look up at me, seeing what I was doing.

"I do that too," he said, surprised.

"Yay, something else we have in common," I said monotonously, not pleased at this new development.

"Okay, that's it. What's your problem with me Alexandria? Why do you hate me so much?" he asked, genuinely.

"I don't hate you. Hating you would require some form of emotional connection between us, of which there is none," I glared at him.

"There! That look, you hate me," he declared, pointing at me.

"Oh, I know now," I said in mock realisation.

"There was that time when Mycroft, your bro, threatened me in his office, then you being incredibly rude with your deductions, then there were the insults, oh not to mention I am being forced to live you," I finished.

Sherlock gaped slightly at my sudden outburst. He cleared his throat.

"I apologise," he said quietly.

"Whatever Sherly," I shrugged, not wanting to stay angry. Plus, if I was going to have to live with this guy, we may as well remain civilized.

At that moment, two men came in.