*None of this is Mine, it all belongs to ACD and the wonderful Stephen Moffatt and Mark Gatiss...I worship at their altar*

Sherlock swept into the Morgue with his usual flourish, black coat sweeping out behind him like some later day crusader. That's how Molly liked to imagine him, sometimes, when he wasn't being a total arse to her. She could imagine him riding into battle on a huge black horse, burnished armour glinting dully in the cloud of her sorrow as he left to fight far off wars. She sighed and wished that just once and for all she could get over this stupid crush she had on the most disagreeable, socially ignorant, rude, prickly, handsome, brilliant creature who was currently parading round her morgue as if he owned the place. She caught John's eye and sighed as he raised his eyebrow. Oh wasn't that just great, Sherlock was going to be in one of those moods today when he would humiliate her just for fun and just because he could.

"M...morning, Sherlock, John" she mentally kicked herself at stuttering at the first word she spoke.

"Molly, I'll need access to the freshest cadaver you have" he looked at her "this week Molly, would be appreciated." He tapped his foot idly.

"Ummm, you can't have it." Molly blushed furiously as she refused him.

"What?" Sherlock sounded confused then outraged "Molly, don't be childish, I NEED a body for an experiment and you always let me..."

Molly cut him off "There's only one body in at the moment, and it's not mine to...well...give away." She shrugged, wishing the ground would swallow her up.

Sherlock took a step towards her and Molly immediate took a reciprocating step backwards. "Molly" he spoke to her as if she was a mentally retarded child "All the bodies in this morgue are yours Molly, it's what you do. You are MY pathologist..." he was looming over her now, his blue eyes glittering with something that Molly didn't want to identify too closely as she assumed that if she did it would pre-empt a vicious rant from Sherlock that would ruin her day if not her week.

John stepped towards Sherlock "Molly, what's up?"

Before Molly could answer the door behind them hit the wall with a more resounding thud than anything Sherlock could manage. Sherlock and John both turned on the spot leaving a gap for Molly to see through.

"Ummmm, Sherlock, this is the reason you can't have the b...body, it belongs...to...to our new Pathologist... " Molly tailed off into silence.

Sherlock spun back towards Molly "You didn't say there was going to be additional members of staff here at Bart's. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Sherlock" John sighed "It's not Molly's job to advise you of changes of staff at Bart's. It's not Molly's job to let you in here, she does it to help you Sherlock, please remember that. It's called a favour and it's done because people want to help and not because they have too. Ok?"

Sherlock just looked with pity at John, then the corner of his mouth twitched and John sighed again. "I do apologise Molly, are you going to introduce us?" Sherlock flicked on his 100 watt smile and strode towards the woman walking between the cabinets and the autopsy tables. She was struggling with two paper cups of coffee, a large leather satchel over her shoulder and what appeared to be a paper bag with slices of toast carried between her teeth. She wasn't looking where she was going and nearly barrelled straight into Sherlock but caught sight of him just in time and neatly side-stepped him before dumping the coffee on the table and dropping the bag of toast from her lips.

"I grabbed some coffee Moll, better that the crap you make here." She stood up and dropped the leather bag on the desk next to the coffee and proceeded to remove a scarf and a leather biking jacket revealing black jeans, biker boots and a battered "Fields of the Nephilim" t shirt that had seen better days. She stood up to her full height, which Sherlock took to be exactly 11 inches shorter than him.

Welsh...recently single...was a Goth...no pets...rides a motorcycle...has no visible tattoos but probably has them...multiple piercings on ears indicate other body piercings...hungover...just moved to London...that's enough to be going on with. His smile was slightly vulpine.

"Ah yes, Sherlock, John this is the new Pathologist here, Dr Caroline Vaughan...Caroline, this is Sherlock Holmes...and John Watson...Dr John Watson is...hmmm... his..." Molly struggled for the right word "colleague."

John, polite as ever held out his hand to shake, which Caroline took. Sherlock remained examining her closely.

Caroline raised her eyes until they locked with Sherlock's "Are you always this rude, or is it a special occasion?" she snapped, almost waspishly and John wondered if she was actually related to the Holmes brothers.

Molly just stood there open mouthed. How could anyone be so cool round Sherlock? So blasé. So unaffected by the phenomenal genius that was standing in front of them. She wished with all her pure little heart that she could stand up to Sherlock like that, just once.

Molly squeaked a little as she spoke "Sherlock is...has...access to the Labs and the Morgue, and to cadavers...ummm...through his brother and well...I help...a bit" she rung her hands pathetically. John's heart went out to her.

Caroline sat down on a chair and proceeded to remove the lid from the coffee while simultaneously ignoring Sherlock and John "Coffee Molly...don't let it go cold, Starbucks is a total rip off but I needed it this morning" she pushed the cup towards Molly.

Sherlock did not like being ignored. Ever. Being dismissed so abruptly was certainly not in his game plan for that morning. He walked towards the door as if he was going to leave but then swung round, giving maximum impact to his stature and clothing.

Molly could see what was coming but could do nothing to stop it.

"Using caffeine to prevent your incipient hangover is not the best method. I would suggest that a suitable analgesic with a litre of water would be more effective. Using red wine to block out memories you would rather forget especially during the working week can precipitate a regular reliance on alcohol to get through the day."

Ice blue eyes met another pair of ice blue eyes.

"Really, you don't say?" Caroline folded her arms across her chest and John couldn't help but notice her rather impressive bust, something he doubted Sherlock had even registered. "If I want to drink Starbucks crap rather than a suitable analgesic" she waggled her fingers at that point "I'll bloody well do so, sunshine."

John stifled a grin; not even Mycroft spoke like this to Sherlock; this could be interesting. For once someone was standing up to him.

Sherlock opened his mouth to reply. But she carried on. "I would suggest that you refrain from commenting on other people's addictions and weaknesses until you are sure that you are free from all of yours. When you stop smoking, then I might listen to your comments on my drinking." She was mimicking his speech pattern now.

Sherlock sat down abruptly "How did you know?"

"About the smoking? I can smell it a mile off...it's loathsome."

Molly stood to the side of the desk, sipping her coffee; afraid to sit down in case it upset Sherlock,

"Molly, coffee black two sugars and a tea for John" Sherlock sat down on Molly's chair as Molly made to move towards their little kitchen.

"Don't you bloody dare, Molly. No wonder you need another Pathologist in here, if you spend all your day running round after this pain in the arse. Mr Holmes, was it? I suggest that if you want a coffee you purchase it from the vending machine in the foyer when you leave the building."

"I need a body." Sherlock leant forward and frowned at this annoying argumentative creature. He could see John was finding this amusing.

"You need a personality first. And there's only one body in the morgue and it's MINE...not Terry's; not YOURS...mine. Savvy? So you might as well toddle off and do whatever else it is you do to annoy people on a daily basis. Because you aren't going to wind me round your little figure like you do with Molly, here."

Sherlock then made the fatal mistake of picking up Molly's piece of toast.

John had thought that Sherlock's reactions were fast but what happened next was like a viper strike.

From nowhere the riding crop that Sherlock had left in the morgue countless times was in her hand and she'd wacked it over the back of his hand making him yelp with pain and drop the toast, butter down on the desk. Sherlock shot up in his chair like a meerkat popping out of its warren, the look of startled surprise was hilarious.

"That's Molly's. .." she flicked the whip again menacingly at each word.

Sherlock looked at her with utter disbelief. This wasn't happening...couldn't be happening...this was his domain...well not his per se but certainly when Molly was in charge it was his and now this...this...abomination...appeared to rule the roost and didn't appear to be in any rush to allow him access. He was even more put out when she started to giggle "I think I'll have to rename you Gordon." She looked at him speculatively.

John managed to speak "Gordon? Why Gordon?" he was desperately trying not to laugh at the priceless look on Sherlock's face.

"Haven't you seen the meerkat's? Hang on." She pulled the keyboard towards her and 'googled' meerkat manor and then 'Gordon' what appeared was a picture of a meerkat poking its head out of a burrow. John spluttered. "There's a video too." She pressed the play button and a loop of a meerkat that looked remarkably like Sherlock and his movement from a few moments ago appeared. Within seconds John was helpless, tears pouring down his face.

"Oh my god, just wait until Lestrade see's this" John was busy texting Lestrade with the URL. "this is priceless" he wiped his eyes and began giggling again.

Throughout all of this Sherlock sat stock still; utter fury on his face...how dare she...she humiliate me. He closed his eyes briefly then snapped them open. She was watching him, a smirk on her face so reminiscent of The Woman that he briefly considered whether or not it was Irene Adler in yet another of her disguises. But no, she was dead. Moriarty had seen to that and he'd seen proof definitive the second time.

Molly knew what was coming when he narrowed his eyes and steepled his fingers under his chin. "Your partner left you because you refused to have a child, he rightly assumed that you were having an affair with a colleague at the hospital you worked at in Cardiff. You have family money that has allowed you to move immediately to London. You ride a motorbike but you were recently knocked off it and are currently using public transport to travel to work. You use your natural attributes to get gullible men and some women to do what you want, your breasts have already been assessed as almost perfect by John. You dress as you do to remind you of when you where happiest, I would suggest medical school and despite the volume of black and leather you are wearing you are far more feminine that Molly who insists on wearing ridiculously childish clothing. That's enough to be going on with, don't you think?"

Molly and John held their collective breaths. Molly because she'd already seen Caroline explode with fury when some clot driving a taxi had hit her off her bike and John because he was willing to bet a month's salary that this red head would not take this lying down.

"Oh, that's the game is it? Pick people to pieces and watch them squirm. Fine, I may not be what was it you called him Molly, an Insulting Detective?"

"N...no...a Co...consulting Detective." Molly went purple with embarrassment.

"Consulting, sorry...close enough first time though. But even I can tee that you are an over privileged public school educated arse possibly from very minor aristocracy. You have no need to work so there's family money with the obvious connections that come with that background. You don't think about your clothes but you buy the best that Saville Row can offer. You are highly educated but only in academic matters as your social manners are abysmal and severely lacking. You have few family and friends, not that I blame them, and from your quips about my figure and using it. I would suggest that you do exactly the same which is why Molly gets into such a state every time you walk through the door. You can 'act' the part of a charming handsome man but I would think that it's only something you can do for brief periods of time, it being such a challenge to be so out of your comfort zone. Obviously single as no sane male or female would put up with you." She leant back in her chair and sipped her coffee watching the fury blaze in Sherlock's eyes.

A slow handclap could be heard from the door. "I do believe that you might have a rival, dear brother. A rival Consulting Detective, and I would think that with her natural 'talents' would probably get just as far if not further than you, Sherlock. And of course, she is a Pathologist; she doesn't need a 'pet' Pathologist to sneak cadavers to 221B Baker Street." Mycroft walked towards the group, extending his hand to Caroline "Mycroft Holmes, I see you have already had the dubious pleasure of meeting my younger brother. I do hope he wasn't his usual charming self."

"Mr Holmes" she nodded "I presume that the petulant outburst was indeed his usual self but I can assure you that anything you brother thinks he can dish out, I am more than capable of dealing with. But you must excuse me, I" she put a huge amount of emphasis on the 'I' "I have an autopsy to perform." And with that she picked up her lab coat and walked out of the office.

"Well, that went well" John pocketed his phone after reading Lestrade's hysterical text in response to John's. "Shall we Sherlock? I think we might have outstayed our welcome this morning." He stood "See you Molly." He started to walk towards the door "Sherlock?"

"I need a body, Mycroft, Molly...just ." Sherlock swept past John and let the door slam behind him.

"As I said. That went well. Did you want to see Sherlock, Mycroft?" John stopped with his hand on the door handle.

"No, I think I'll have a chat with the charming Dr Vaughan." Mycroft turned and followed Caroline into the Morgue.

John was standing on the pavement outside Bart's when he suddenly wondered just how had Mycroft known Caroline's surname. He sighed it was probably better he didn't know.

"John, If you don't move we'll lose this taxi" Sherlock had flagged down a taxi. He threw himself across the seat and gazed out of the window ignoring John's attempt at conversation.

TBC