Molly Hooper had been had been awake from her induced coma 6 weeks, had been out of hospital 5 weeks and been back at work 3 days. In the 6 weeks since waking up, she'd wished a thousand times she were still asleep. She could still feel his hands around her throat, him cutting her torso and breaking her fingers one by one. Every time she closed her eyes, she could see his. Those dilated black pupils, full of hatred. It made her sick but she couldn't wipe them from her mind, she felt frozen with fear and she almost didn't return to work.

At this moment she was absently wiping down a slab in the mortuary, when she heard the door behind her squeak open and the breath in her throat caught quickly. She slowly turned and came face to face with Sherlock Holmes and Dr John Watson.

Since leaving hospital she had been told about Sherlock Holmes quite frequently. Her work colleagues had explained that when Jim left her to die, he went to find Sherlock. "There was an almighty stand-off" someone had exclaimed. "It's incredible either of them are alive, after the explosion at the swimming pool!" Another one had said. Indeed neither of them looked worse for wear.

Molly's history with Sherlock Holmes was one-sided and repetitive. He would compliment her, she would blush, he would ask for a "favour" and she'd say yes to anything. Because, she loved him. But since that day, when she'd almost died, she'd been thinking. In fact, all she did was think. And her thoughts went along these lines: "Sherlock Holmes is an ARSE HOLE!" She was so tired of being thought of as insignificant, stupid and there to be taken advantage of. She wasn't special, he thought of everyone that way but she knew he saw her as some sort of joke and she's had enough.

Whilst these thoughts were winding through her mind, Sherlock was speaking. She hadn't caught a word of it but it sounded like he was asking for a favour... again.

"... Could you manage that?" Sherlock finished.

"What?" Molly said absently.

"I said can you manage that?"

"No, I meant I didn't hear any of it, I wasn't listening. What did you say?" Molly said, already annoyed.

"Molly I don't have time for this. I need you to get out the body of Fred Sheeran for myself and Dr Watson to inspect. Hurry up, this could be very important to the case." Sherlock said, exasperated at having to repeat himself.

"Please." John added, looking a little embarrassed at his partner's abruptness.

"No." Replied Molly.

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that. Did you say no?" Sherlock exclaimed.

"It seems you heard me perfectly. I did indeed respond in the negative." Molly didn't know where this courage was coming from but she could see the vein in Sherlock's neck begin to pulse rapidly, indicating he was becoming irritated very quickly.

She saw his eyes flicker all over her body before he said quietly, "Are those new shoes? They look lovely on you." With the hint of a smile, which she knew was for show.

"Really Sherlock, with your heightened IQ I would've thought you would have been more original. No they're not new and no you cannot see the body. Have a nice day." She retorted, looking down to finish cleaning the sides of the cabinets.

Sherlock was instantly by her side grabbing her shoulders. She cried out, as his grasp put pressure on her burns.

"Sherlock!" John shouted as Sherlock immediately let go of Molly.

John was immediately at Molly's side, putting a stool behind her to sit down on as her eyes watered with pain and anger. John eased her down on the stool whilst Sherlock was looking at her speculatively, no trace of concern on his face. She was just a new puzzle to solve. She was determined not look at his face again.

"What happened?" Sherlock asked slowly.

"You mean you don't know? The infamous Sherlock Holmes can't deduce from just looking at me what occurred for me to react in such a way? You're losing your touch!" She spat to the ground.

"John, would you excuse Molly and I for a moment?"

"I don't think..." John started.

"No you don't. I'll see you outside." Sherlock interrupted. John looked at Molly, who nodded minutely. He left the room without saying a word to Sherlock.

"Show me." He said as soon as he heard the door click, never moving his eyes from her face.

"Excuse me?"

"Show me where he hurt you." Sherlock said again.

She looked up. He knew instantly that Molly was no longer was going to be so willing to help him. He could see in her eyes the anger and bitterness and wondered what she saw in his.