Falling: a Sherlolly fan fiction.

Falling chapter eighteen

I think this is the first time in my life that I was happy when I woke up. I opened my eyes, expecting to see beautiful green ones looking back, but there wasn't. I got up and put on some pants and a sweatshirt, and went into the kitchen. "Where's Sherlock?" my voice became high. "Gone before I woke up." John mumbled distractedly. I sighed and grabbed an apple. I ate while I dressed in my work attire, and put on a bit of makeup. I took a piece of paper and wrote the following: "Missed not seeing you this morning.. have a great day! XO, Molly"

I quickly made the bed, and put the paper in the middle. I yelled a quick "bye" at John, grabbed my bag, and set off to work. The walk was about 10 minutes, but I didn't mind. It gave me time to think. I was a turn away from my building, when a wave of paranoia came over me. I looked behind me. The world kept moving around me. Annoyed grunts were directed at me, but I didn't notice. I didn't know where, but I knew. I knew that someone was watching. I pushed those feelings down, but felt light headed for the rest of the way. A few people welcomed me back, but for the most part, nobody noticed the mousy girl who examined dead bodies. I took my coat off and sat down. I was breathing heavily, though I don't know why. "You know exactly why." A voice whispered to me. Something was happening. Something bad. I grabbed an autopsy exam, and set to work. Over my time out it had accumulated a bit, but the replacement had taken care of a good amount. I pulled a cold dead body out of his slot in the freezer. Who would have ever thought that they'd be naked on a cold slab of metal, with some random looking at they're bodies? I wondered who he was. Even dead he was handsome. I took notes. Mid thirties, history of self harm, and a self inflicted bullet wound. I wish I could have been his friend. Maybe I could've stopped him. "Married with kids" was written a over his face. God, this job is depressing. My phone buzzed in my pocket.

*Sorry I wasn't there when you woke up.

-SH* I typed a quick reply.

*Its fine. Lunch?*

I placed my phone back in my pocket. I wasn't supposed to be socializing during work. Very, very unprofessional. I continued my autopsy. I checked the tag on his foot. Spot on. "Suicide, 38, Dylan Mclaine."

My phone buzzed.

*No, working.

-SH*

I'd become used to his impolite and bluntness by now, but it was disappointing none the less. I still had a solid two hours before lunch. Maybe he would change his mind. The odds weren't in my favor, but you never know with that man. I worked until 11:30 A.M. but realized that I just wasn't hungry. I hoped to god it wasn't because of my little episode. I felt very weak and tired. I got my coat and decided on a small coffee shop down the road. I stepped outside, and as soon as the cold London air hit me; the chills ran down my spine. It was like I was being surveyed. I looked around. Nothing out of the ordinary. I say a shady figure swing into an alley. I forced my feet to move. Faster and faster, until I was sprinting. I ran into the alleyway. "Who are yo-" I glanced around. No one. I'm losing it. I found myself slamming my body against the wall. I sobbed into my hands. I can't take it anymore. I can't do this. I'm paranoid, tired and weak. I fell to my knees tugging on my hair. I was silently breaking down. Everything was falling apart.