It had been weeks since their first case. In total, they had three cases since. Each case was solved within the first two days. Most other cases, Sherlock had told Abigail, weren't worth his time.
Now, Abigail and Sherlock sat across from one another. Abigail sat Indian style on the floor while Sherlock was hunched over on the couch. Abigail examined the cards in her hands before looking up to meet Sherlock's eyes. He was staring at her. Studying her.
"Will you stop deducing me?" she asked. "It's cheating."
"No it's not," Sherlock retorted.
"Yes it is." Abigail pulled a 2 of diamonds from her last two cards and placed on the pile. She giggled as Sherlock groaned and took two cards from the stack. "Last card."
Sherlock had five cards left. Abigail looked from the pile to Sherlock. She decided to put her developing deducing skills to work.
-worried
-knows he's going to lose
-however, has an eight
Abigail raised her eyebrow at the last one before looking down at her last card. Also an eight.
Knowing Sherlock, she thought, he'll put down the eight and try to fool my game up. Huh, and he calls himself a genius.
"Who's deducing who now?" Sherlock said, not looking up from his cards.
"I wasn't deducing," Abigail lied. "I was waiting for you to lay your card. It's your turn."
"I deduce that you're lying."
"And I deduce that you're annoying. Now lay."
Sherlock smiled. Abigail had managed to come out of her shell in the past few weeks. She was starting to deduce more. Starting to become more like Sherlock, Donavan had pointed out.
"Oh, how good for you then," Abigail had said to her in a sarcastic way. She had then added, "God knows you need all the help you can get around here."
Her sarcasm was what made Sherlock smile. If someone annoyed her, she wouldn't hesitate to say something back. She was usually her most sarcastic towards Donovan. To Abigail, Donovan was like the Anderson to her Sherlock.
Finally, Sherlock pulled an 8 from his cards and laid it. Abigail smirked and laid hers before he could say anything else.
"I win," she said with a smile. Sherlock stared at the pile of cards.
"I don't wanna play this anymore," he said and sat back with his arms crossed, like an infant who was told they couldn't have candy before supper. Abigail laughed and collected the cards.
"Sore loser," she said.
"Am not," Sherlock said before lying back on the couch, his back to Abigail. She rolled her eyes and got up to put the cards away.
Abigail knew Sherlock's flat like the back of her hand and vise versa with Sherlock and her flat. They spent so much time at one place or the other when they were working on those cases. Those three cases they had in the last few weeks.
As Abigail went to the kitchen to grab herself a drink, she heard a phone go off. Acting on impulse, she pulled hers out of her pocket only to realize it was Sherlock's. Without hesitation, she grabbed his phone and checked the message.
'Got what you need. Come down when ready -Molly'
"Molly?" Abigail questioned. Sherlock never mentioned a Molly before.
"What was that?" Sherlock called.
"Um, you've just gotten a text from a Molly. She says she has what you need and to come down when you're ready," Abigail explained.
She heard Sherlock get up from the couch. She expected him to be pissed off that she had went through his phone. But he wasn't. He seemed quite happy. Excited, even.
"Brilliant!" he said, taking his phone from Abigail. "She's got it! Finally. Come along if you wish. I shouldn't be long. Just a quick trip to St. Bart's."
Sherlock pulled on his coat and scarf. Abigail followed close behind, grabbing her own coat, but made no effort to put it on.
"What has she got?" she asked.
"Remember my blood experiment?" Abigail nodded. "Well, I'm trying again. Fresh blood. I've known Molly for a while, she always supplies me with what I need."
"Wait, do you think that's a good idea? I mean, you just got your skull back."
"I've hid it. She'll never know where it is."
Abigail looked over her shoulder to examine the flat before smirking to herself. She knew exactly where Sherlock hid it. And Sherlock knew that.
"Don't you dare," he told her before descending the steps. She was hot on his trail.
"Don't I dare what?" she asked in an innocent voice.
Once he came to the bottom of the steps, Sherlock stopped (causing Abigail to almost run into him) and spun to face her. They were so close that Abigail could smell his cologne. She didn't remember Sherlock ever wearing cologne, but did it ever smell good.
Abigail fought the urge to kiss Sherlock right then and there and just kept his gaze.
"You know," he told her, his voice husky. Sexy, Abigail thought.
"Do I, Sherlock?" she teased, making her voice equally as seductive.
"You ought to stop playing games Abby."
"And if I don't William?"
Sherlock smirked at Abigail's use of his real name and at how well she could play this game. Abigail smiled back before brushing past him and out the door. She hailed a cab and the two climbed into the back. Sherlock gave the cabbie the address and they were off.
The ride was silent. Abigail had her head rested against the window. She felt a bit tired as she hadn't slept much the night before. She was up reviewing something for Sherlock. Most people would say no and go on about their lives, but Abigail had a weak spot for Sherlock. If he asked her to jump off a bridge, she'd jump.
Abigail began to doze off, only to be brought out of her daze by her phone. She rubbed her eyes and reached for her phone, accidentally pushing it off the seat. Abigail groaned and reached down to pick it up.
"I'll get it," Sherlock said and leaned down at the same time.
His hand brushed against Abigail's. His hand was cold against her skin, which caused her to pull her hand back quickly. Sherlock looked up at Abigail for a moment before grabbing her phone and passing it to her.
"Thank you," she said.
She checked the message. It was from Harry about John again. She decided to ignore it.
"Nothing of importance," she declared and put the phone in her pocket.
The cab pulled up to St. Bart's. Sherlock was out first and held the door open for Abigail. Abigail paid the cabbie and the two walked into St. Bart's.
"So, where are we going? I haven't exactly been here before," Abigail said.
"Just follow me. And don't worry, morgues aren't as creepy as they say they are in movies," Sherlock said.
"Who said I was worried?"
Sherlock looked down at Abigail and continued to walk. Sherlock led Abigail into a room. A woman stood over a body. She was zipping him in those black bags that were used when someone is killed and taken to the morgue.
When the door opened, she turned and smiled at Sherlock.
"Ah. Got my message I see," she said.
Abigail stood back, studying Molly from a distance.
-late 20s
-deceased relative; male; possibly father
-well educated
-has a crush on Sherlock
Abigail's eyebrows furrowed together at that last one. It made a bit more sense now that Molly would give Sherlock what he needs from St. Bart's when he asked. It was the same reason Abigail did whatever Sherlock wanted whenever he wanted.
Abigail was pulled out of her trance when Molly spotted her behind Sherlock and asked, "Who's this?"
"Friend of mine. Abigail Watson. Abigail, this is Molly Hooper," Sherlock said.
Abigail put on her best smile and extended her hand towards Molly. "Nice to meet you Molly Hooper."
Molly put on an obviously fake smile and shook Abigail's hand, but didn't return the greeting.
-doesn't like me
That one is obvious, Abigail thought to herself.