It's Complicated

Chapter One

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Molly gritted her teeth as she dug the tweezers into the man's chest. Poor bugger. The bloke had died in a gang shoot out. The air was filled with the pungent scent of flesh. 

Unfortunately, she was used to it. "The bullet should be somewhere," She murmured, spreading the pale skin wider, as she continued to search for the bullet. There it was! She clamped the tweezers around the bullet.

She pulled it out of the muscle, triumphantly placing the bullet in a dish. Using the back of her wrist to wipe her forehead, she sighed. While she enjoyed working at the morgue, it was incredibly taxing. Plus, there was the bonus of Sherlock popping in to investigate the stiffs.

Sherlock. She shivered. Jet black locks, and cheekbones so sharp that they could cut diamond. Muscles hidden by a black coat, and the alluring scent of nicotine. 

She knew that it was hopeless to be interested in him. He was unattainable, and sometimes, she wasn't even sure if he was human. She hooked her thumb under her gloves and peeled them off. It was the end of her shift.

She had barely let the morgue when her mobile buzzed. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw the caller id. Sherlock.

She shakily pressed the accept button, steeling herself for Sherlock's harsh logic.

"Hello?" She asked, her voice stronger than she expected.

"Molly, I'm aware that you've left the morgue, but I need you to go back,"

"How did you..."

"Your shift ends at 11:30, but you had to stay late to remove the bullet from the late Mr. Jacob Clyde. It took longer than you suspected because Maurice is out sick today. You finished around 11:41, and it takes three minutes for you to walk down the stairs, because you're trying to lose weight, so you aren't taking the lift. Need I continue?" Gunshots echoed through the phone. "Goddamn it! John! Run!"

"I need you to go check on the body of Matthew Wilkins, is it still there?"

"Stiffs, they don't just get up and leave..."

"Molly, it's important!" He shouted through the phone.

She raced back into the morgue, running back up the stairs. Her fingers fumbled with the thick plastic keycard. She swiped the card through the box. The light beeped. Red. 

She muttered a curse under her breath.

"Molly? Molly? Is it still there?" Sherlock panted through the phone.

"It's not going through!" She swiped, desperately, until... Green.

She pushed through the door, stumbling as the door swung open smoothly.

She came to the rows of silver cabinets. White lights blinked on making clicking noises. Her nail split as she tugged open the drawer, she bit back yet another curse. The cabinet slid open with minimal effort.

The slab was empty.

"Sherlock. There's no one there,"

"I was hoping you wouldn't say that," Sherlock breathed. "I need you to go to your flat, and lock all of the doors and the windows. You are in danger,"

"Sherlock is this really..."

"Nessecary? Would I be asking you if it wasn't?" He queried.

"No," She admitted.

"I have to go. Molly. Go home. Stay safe,"

"Sherlock,"

The line clicked.

"Be careful," She finished, it wasn't like he could hear her anyway.