Sherlock drabbles by Prodigous and Saphirra

Sherlock and Molly drabble 1: April Fools.

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She hummed happily as she dried her freshly washed hands, tossing out the last of the trash from her last patient; she was ready to go home.

Molly strode down the hallway, checking the time on her watch, a spring in her step.

If I hurry up, I’ll have enough time to have a proper date…

“Extra clean today, are we?” one of her co-workers asked, highly amused.

“Must’ve just washed her hands if she’s that happy,” another laughed.

“I bet if you ask, one of the chemists would let you use their sanitization shower.”

“A hospital is only as clean as its staff,” she chided, just shrugging, too excited to be bothered at the moment.

“We’ll see,” one sniggered behind her back, the others laughing with him, but she didn’t hear, or else she might have been more cautious.

A grin tugged at her lips as she entered the locker rooms and she deftly twisted her combination into her locker, yanking it open; she was met with a bucket of some kind of gooey substance, and her reflexes being what they were, stepped back just too late.

She was covered in stinking, oozing sludge; it slid down her back and soaked into her clothes, staining her coat urine yellow, seeping into her skin and giving off the foul smell of a rotting animal.

“Wh-what the-?” she spluttered, wiping it off of her eyes; it was some kind of concoction of several chemicals and maybe some borax to give it the revolting feeling.

“April Fool’s!” several voices chanted amidst a chorus of laughter.

Molly bit her tongue, hard. She couldn’t bite her lip. Then the sludge would get in her mouth. And she had to bite something, or else the tears pricking at her eyes would overflow.

This is not funny. At all… I have to… I have to get clean…

With squelching footsteps, she turned around and took the walk of shame to the ladies’ room, doing her best not to show her weakness in front of the others, murmuring simply when people asked, “April Fool’s…”

As soon as the stall door closed behind her, she peeled off her clothes as quickly as possible, turning on the one shower in the back corner (it was mainly for people who worked night and morning shifts, but…

She hissed as scalding water cascaded down her back, and hurriedly turned the knob, and then got to work scraping the sludge off of her sin; already it had started drying into a crust.

It was no wonder that she didn’t hear her phone, and thus didn’t reply to Sherlock Holmes’s text.

Where are you? –SH

Molly, I need you to wheel out Mrs. Johnson. –SH

Molly Hooper? –SH

            She groaned when she saw her phone, pulling out the spare clothes she kept in her locker miserably.

            Molly? Where are you? –SH

            Not funny, Molly. –SH

            Fine. –SH

            The door to the bathroom opened and a set of footsteps crossed the room briskly.