A/N: Inspired by a post on tumblr showing the most popular characters in BBC Sherlock fanfiction. Sherlock sits on top with 40%, John Watson comes in second at 32%, and the character with the next highest percentage was...Molly Hooper at 8%, narrowly beating out Mycroft Holmes at 7%! Molly Hooper ftw!

St. Barts Pathology Lab, 2012

Sherlock came storming into the lab, nearly causing Molly to drop the armful of glassware she was carrying to the autoclave. "Sherlock! You're in a strop, what's wrong? Case gone bad?"

"Case gone bad? No, of course not!" he snapped back, stopping directly in front of her.

"Oh, er, then no cases at all?" she asked, giving a squeak of surprise as he snatched the glassware out of her arms and jerked his head toward the autoclave.

She moved obediently, her mind as much as jumble as the assorted items she'd collected from the lab's previous tenants, a group of Mike Stamford's students.

"You shouldn't let them just run right over you, treat you like a lab technician," Sherlock grumbled as he helped her sort the glassware and put each item into its proper place. "You're a Specialist Registrar, for God's sake - and that, Molly Hooper, is exactly the problem!"

Molly scrunched her brow in confusion. Sherlock was often like this - moody and disgruntled, although he wasn't ever as helpful as he was being right now. Not unless he needed something. And if he needed something, he at least had the decency to pretend to be nice about it. So, given that he was being moody and disgruntled, it seemed unlikely he always wanted something. But it wouldn't hurt to ask - and hey, maybe this would be one of the times he'd actually explain what he meant. "Why is me being a Specialist Registrar a problem, exactly?"

"For the same reason that I know your cat's name is Toby, that you're saving up to buy an expensive flat, and that your favourite fruit is cherries!" he practically bellowed, slamming the autoclave shut. "Because you take up exactly 8% of my Mind Palace. 8%! And I have no idea why!"

"Well, 8% isn't actually all that much," she started, only to fall silent as he glowered at her.

"8% is an enormous amount when it comes to my Mind Palace, Molly. Stamford barely takes up 1%, my family not more than 12% total, except for Mycroft, he's in a category of his own, and The Work takes 75% of what's left over!" He tugged irritably at his curls and continued to study her. "So why you? Why 8%?" he muttered.

Molly could nothing more than shrug. Sherlock was still an enigma to her, even after having known him for almost two years. This whole Mind Palace and 8% thing was his problem to deal with, but there was something she could take from this confusing conversation. "You're right," she said, gesturing toward the autoclave. "I do let them treat me like a, a lab technician, and I know they do it because I'm a woman, even the female students." She nodded decisively. "So I won't let it happen again."

"Yes you will," Sherlock contradicted her. "It's in your nature. You can't help yourself; you're one of those" His lip curled in contempt. "A people pleaser. It'll take you at least, mmm, I'd say another six to eight months before you manage to stand firm." Then he gave her one of his rare sincere smiles, the one that lit up his features and dazzled her like the sun. "But I do hope I'm around that day, because I guarantee it will be a sight to behold!"

Then he strolled back out the door, leaving Molly utterly flummoxed - was that a compliment he'd just paid her? Without any ulterior motive? And why, she wondered, had he come up here in the first place, ranting about Mind Palaces and percentages?

She shook her head as the door swung shut behind him. "I don't think I'll ever understand that man," she said with a sigh, then shrugged and returned to work.