(no subject)

[theonewhocounted]

[Continued from here.]

Molly sighs after Sherlock's last text and goes back to working. She knows she's not literally going to hell for what she did (for one, she doesn't believe in the place), but she's got a conscious enough to feel bad about it. Although she imagines this isn't the first time Sherlock's left someone in a spot in order to pursue a case. 

She seals up the blood sample she just took from the body to be tested later for blood-alcohol content. The woman certainly reeks of alcohol, but that's not always an indicator that she actually ingested it.

Comments

i hope this is ok cries. i can't see sherlock going out much just because he can esp w/o drugs etc??

[deduce]

He's had a rough night. Staying out, chasing down street corners and following pawns around as they go from dealer to dealer trying to get him worthwhile information, and it mostly came to naught. Well, on the information front, anyway. He certainly got reimbursed for the wild goose chase, and he's not one to complain when free things end up in his lap - especially when said things have become rather impossible to get ahold of.

And this has been anything but a typical night - forced into clubs with music far too loud and people far too close, it was uncomfortable (but then it wasn't, because liquid courage, whether it's a placebo or not, truly works (and anyway, whoever said that it has to be alcohol? Oh, it's implied, certainly. But it's not set in stone, is it?)

Ditching his company wasn't especially difficult; they were done and he had long since grown bored of the whole thing, all that was left was to smoke another cigarette and get dressed (and although his desire for being lazy had been intense, he ignored it and was out the door by the time he'd sent that next text). Flagging down a cab, he lets the dead cigarette drop to the floor and stubs it out, idly turning his collar up against the wind.

It's not long before he's walking the familiar hallways of St Bart's, lazily taking the stairs down to the morgue and firing off a few other texts to while the time away.

The first thing Molly might notice is that Sherlock looks like shit. Out all night, tired and somewhat hungover, Sherlock has only barely managed to fix his hair and straighten his clothes out, and even then, it's not an especially convincing feat (but then, why be convincing when Molly already knows where he's been? Doesn't matter, entirely unimportant and not worth putting the effort in, especially when he's already feeling so damned tired).

"Where is t?"

Fine with me. :)

[theonewhocounted]

She does notice. There's no way she couldn't. It makes her pause as she looks up from her microscope.

Of course she knows he's been with someone, but he doesn't just looked sexed, he looks quite terrible; like when John had pulled him out of the drug house. She can't help the feeling of dread that coils in her stomach. And fear and anger. It cycles through her all at once like it did that other day.

"Are you alright?" she asks him instead of answering his question.