Higher

Typical Tuesday post bullet wound. Day 54 of bed rest, post second life saving surgery. Raining. Bored.

Sherlock made his way to St Bart's and into his favorite laboratory. The recovery from two massive life saving surgeries was incredibly debilitating physically and consequently crippling mentally.

While Sherlock was on this so called bed rest he was being made to refuse cases and had been threatened into taking an internship at St Bart's or face Rehab yet again. Naturally he choose the former. And now found himself with a temporary actual job with actual requirements to perform. He passed through the door to the lab and spotted Molly working at a microscope.

"Morning, Sherlock." She murmured as she continued on with her work. He went round to her work station and set her creamy, overly artificially sweetened coffee next to her. She murmured her thanks and lifted her attention to the cup, taking a tentative sip. She flashed him a brilliant, appreciative smile then went back to her work.

Morning coffee had become a routine and his first duty on his Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursdays his so called visits in the lab. Sherlock stopped at the cafe and picked up his... pathologist?Colleague? Superior? Savior?...Friend? What does one define someone who has saved your life on multiple occasions, yet requires you to fetch her coffee?

Although he really could not complain. The morning treat was also helping him earn her forgiveness for his relapse and numerous past transgressions. It wasn't enough, but it was a start at earning her trust again. Slow as it was going.

Sherlock took off the coat and slipped on his lab coat, complete with ridiculous name tag. It labeled him as a Consulting Lab Technician Assistant to Doctor M. Hooper. Once again, the only one in the world. Compliments of Molly of course. She and Mycroft had wheeled and dealed this arrangement to keep his sanity. and in comparison to stint of rehab it was bearable. But he also admitted a truth only to himself. He took this internship and the conditions that came with it because he owed Molly Hooper his life. Again.

As his high powered microscope came alive he collected his materials and settled in. For a time he got lost in the familiar sounds and actions of lab work. Then the clacking started.

Clack,clack,clack followed by the sounds of Molly stumbling into a stool as she passed it. That was followed by a low curse and more inconsistent clacking. Sherlock looked up and studied Molly the source of the ruckus. The petite pathologist was dressed quite normally, well normal for her in a moderately appropriate blouse, brightly colored cardigan, black trouser pants...and pair of black high heels?

Molly could feel his eyes on her and turned to him. " Oh, sorry! I'll bet that's terribly distracting. Let me just go and change them back." Off she went with a slow procession of clack's. Sherlock saw that she was trying to hold her head high and walk normally. She was failing.

When Molly returned from the lockers dressed in her far more sensible hospital shoes she slipped right back to what she was doing. Sherlock attempted the same. However, he was having a difficult time getting the need for high heels in the lab off his mind.

Sherlock tried to focus on the slides of tissue samples before him. He made it full 20 minutes ( damn his boredom) before allowing his mind to ponder what Molly Hooper had been doing in such ridiculous shoes in the lab of St Barts at ten on a Tuesday. If she had been dressed to give a presentation or make a court appearance there would have been no thought of it at all, but the shoes in and of themselves where just very not...Molly. That is to say, not work mode Molly. After all, Molly Hooper did gravitate to the ridiculous side in her wardrobe in most of her extra curricular activities.

Sherlock went through possible scenarios for the need of such high heels. He further ruled out a date (the lack of care on her dress or hair) or an attempt at so called bettering herself. Was it a secret sexual desire? The brief image of Molly in the heels and garters below her lab coat came into his mind in a flash. As did her former mention of finding great pleasure in her Sex life. It was an unusual image of the pathologist but not with out a certain allure. He shifted uncomfortably.

A wave attraction suddenly flooded him, but he quickly replaced that with a sense of curiosity. Surely that was the root of most attraction. The allure of a mystery. It had nothing to do with the thought of a particular pathologist in a pristine lab coat and heels who had proved her affection for him countless times. He took a sip of his coffee and made him self get a grip. But why the heels? The thought was beginning to plague him and he felt that familiar thrill flow through him. There is a mystery to solve.

Molly hasn't flaunted a new Man in her life as she had in the past, but also it had not been but two months the termination of her engagement to Meat-dagger. Was she still sleeping with the idiot? Or had she met some other equally idiotic man? Perhaps they just enjoyed (he grimaced) physical intimacy together. A fling? He studied Molly. No, she wasn't having regular sexual intercourse, well at least with another, she was using that demented pink phallic thing he kept in her nightstand with an almost alarming regularity.

He examined her from the top of her head she had recently had a trim, but no new cut or color to indicate a need for a 'new' Molly, clothes weren't new and he'd seen her wear this particular combination at least twice a month. Molly was still Molly, just the same as always. Only wearing several inch, impractical black high heels to work in the lab. It was perplexing

"Figured it out yet?" Molly cut through his thoughts. She wasn't looking at him, but he could see her half smile from behind her own microscope. She was amused that she could read him. He was rather annoyed to be discovered by her. With a glare he replied. "Not yet. But I'm close to it."

She answered back a non committal hum and moved on to her filing cabinets.

"You are not going to tell me are you?" She smiled and secret smile. "You are Sherlock Holmes, and you enjoy figuring out a good mystery. Go on then. Figure it out."

And with that she flounced out of the lab.