Bored (Molly)

[Sherlock Holmes]

Sherlock was bored. Why did the criminals have to be so boring and easy to figure out. What happened to all those interesting cases involving Moriarty. he was back now, couldn't he arrange something that would be of more interest, or was Moriarty's plan to bore Sherlock to death? Because so far that seemed to be happening. true only a few days ago he had been shot and then the criminal escaped from the police. But that wasn't too important. He was already working on a plan to sort that little problem out and it would be put in action any time soon.

"Anything interesting on your blog?" Sherlock asked out, sitting up and checking his own site. Nothing. His Emails. Nothing, even no sign of his annoying brother. He checked his phone. Nothing. Why did no one have something that needed a consulting detective. Even bickering with Mycroft was more interesting than this, although he was not so bored as to go and find something to argue with Anderson about. He wasn't going to risk his IQ level just so he wouldn't be bored. Still, there had to be something to do.

Looking around, Sherlock heard no reply from John, and the detective never went on John's blog. That was something that he did not enjoy. Walking around the house, he wondered if he needed to bother getting dressed. it was still early in the morning and there was no reason to be prepared for anything. he'd probably just end up lying around here doing nothing. This was why he had other forms of recreation. He needed problems, he needed work, otherwise his mind started to stagnate, taring itself apart. He needed a case, something to entertain his mind. Why did so few things offer that.

Giving a sigh, Sherlcok looked around the house, unearthing the gun he had last used to shoot the smiley face into the wall. As far as he was aware, John just left it lying around for the detective to use when needed or if John was in fact trying to hide it. passwords, locks, hidding places, they never were any match for him. They just seemed to be in plain view for the detective. Going over to the wall, Sherlock wondered whether a companion was needed for the wall or whether he should just add some more bullet holes in his masterpeice.

Sheet wrapped around him, Sherlock took a casual shot at the wall, hitting one of the lines outlineing the face. next, he aimed another, getting a more even spread of bullet holes in the yellow circle. it looked more orderly now, which was something Sherlock approved of. Now he just needed to make sure that the smile had equally spaced bullet holes in the curved line. Casually taking aim in only a second, Sherlock shot another shot, which made yet another hole in the wall before the bullet fell down and onto the sofa with its companions.

[Molly Hooper]

OUTFIT
Molly was still worried about Sherlock. Even though his arm was probably better now, she wondered if it had been infected or anything. After all, all that time that he had been leaving it without anyone to care for it, it could have caught something. So Molly pulled on some clothes and furry boots and off she went, starting to head for Sherlock's house.

Molly sighed. She was never really relaxed nowadays. Her crush on said detective was getting worse. Her head kept feeling like it would burst. But Kaz was helping her through that, sort of. Shopping was one of the medicines that was being used. It was working splendidly. However, despite the fact Kaz was a great help, Molly was still a bit gloomy. Telling Sherlock himself was not a good idea. But she couldn't keep it concealed. Writing it in her diary, telling Kaz...no, none of this worked. Molly chewed her lip thoughtfully. This wasn't about her, so stop thinking about yourself, she thought to herself. However, another voice argued that she needed to think this now, because she might blurt it to Sherlock when she visited.

As Molly turned into a road near Baker Street, the voices in her head were still arguing. A sigh escaped her lips and she rolled her eyes. She managed to shut them up, and then she kept walking. It seemed rather cold today. The air blew, making it chilly, so Molly wrapped her jacket more firmly around herself. She turned into Baker Street and stopped, biting her lip. Did she want to visit Sherlock? What if she did blurt out...that thing? Then she forced herself to keep walking. She re-reminded herself that this wasn't about herself, this was about Sherlock.

When she got to Sherlock's room, finally, she took a deep breath before knocking sharply on the door. She frowned when she heard bullets, and knocked again, sharper still. Then she waited.

[Sherlock Holmes]

The detective moved forwards, inspecting the wall, brushing off the dust caused by the bullet hitting the wall at large velocities. Jon probably wouldn't be happy if he noticed wall dust on the sofa and more holes in the wall. But he was unlikely to. John was not observant, nor was Mrs Hudson. They would need to have heard the gunshots or pay an interest in the wall to have seen that. Mycroft would notice, if he visited. But Mycroft was observant like Sherlock and would probably look for any signs on how Sherlock was getting on. The bullet holes in the wall certainly showed his boredom.

Bending down, Sherlock regarded the fallen bullets, their shape changed by the impact. Seeing as he had no pocket in which to place them and that he was in his own apartment, Sherlock picked up them and placed them by the knife that was embeded in the wooden mantelpiece. He would sort them out later, put them away, somewhere where John was not going to see them. Not that it was likely that John would notice them anyway. Why did everyone have such tiny, funny little brains. How did they not get bored just existing? It was a baffiling puzzle and not worth Sherlock's time.

Giving a sigh, Sherlock turned away from the mantelpiece and once again took a shot at the wall, then another. The smiley face appeared to be almost ready now, just a few more shots, or making a smaller distance between bullet holes. It was at that point that there was a knock on the door. Sherlock, still in his sheet, returned the gun to its former place, making sure that everything was exactly the same, in case the gun was meant to be hidden and not something that he could easily find.

There had been no doorbell ring, so it was someone who new either Sherlock or John. John was not expecting anyone and it appeared that he was out, so it was for him. very few visited and based on the sound of the knock, it seemed like the most likely cause was Molly. Still, Sherlock was still in his sheet and didn't have time to change. But he ahd been to Buckingham Palace in his sheet. it wasn't a problem. "Come in, Molly." He called. She probably wanted to check up on his arm. But he did keep it away from his bacteria growths. He wasn't stupid. He had even forgone a few experiments.

[Molly Hooper]

Molly opened the door, walked in, and then shut it behind her. She walked into the room where Sherlock's voice was coming from. He was wearing a sheet, but she didn't that much care.

"Hey. How's the wound?" Molly said. Don't talk about crushes. Don't you dare, Molly Hooper. She frowned at the wall. Gunshots. "Have you really been that bored?" Molly asked, looking at Sherlock then at the wall pointedly.

She sat down on the sofa, glancing at Sherlock once more. "Listen...sorry about the other day. I didn't side with Kaz because I like her better you know, she had a point. Besides, she's really nice once you get to know her. You should try talking to her more." Molly said. She cursed in her head. She was babbling again.

Molly took another look around the flat, wondering where John was but not asking. She also wondered whether she was being paranoid about the wound, or if anyone else, namely John or Kaz, had been worrying as well. Kaz might have been worrying but she might not visit, because she knew clearly that Sherlock didn't like her much. Molly understood why but she didn't, in a way. She personally thought Kaz was very nice, and funny, and she had made Molly a bit more stylish, like she was today. Molly wasn't the old, boring, sensible Molly anymore. She was stylish and new. She had got that trait from Kaz, who in Molly's opinion was one of the best friends she had ever had, technically one of the only friends she had ever had as Molly was, at first, socially awkward, but she was getting over that now. Slowly, but surely. Molly blinked out of her daydream so she didn't miss what Sherlock was going to say, as that would be really clumsy and rude.

[Sherlock Holmes]

Sherlock's gaze flickered to Molly as she entered the room, the detective's icy gaze flickering over her. Nothing new of importance to deduce. But she didn't seem bothered about the sheet. Mycroft had been when Sherlock had taken it to Buckingham Palace. Then again, Mycroft always wanted things to be ordered and everyone to abide by the unwritten laws of society. As well as the written ones. Which on the whol was very dull as nothing much happened if life just continued on like that. Still, Mycroft was often dull like that. Just like most other people. Then again, Mycroft was not stupid, like the other people.

"Hey. How's the wound?" As always, people would worry over the trivial. His wounds instead of his boredom. "Perfectly fine. Every other day it is treated with atiseptic and I have avoided doing experiments that may disturb it or cause it to get infected." Sherlock announced, moving over to the sofa and collapsing on it. "But the more pressing problem his boredom. Any good cadavers in the morgue, recently?" Sherlock asked, hopefully. maybe then he'd have something interesting to do. Simple spare body parts wouldn't be too far from something to entertain his mind, either.

"Have you really been that bored?" Sherlock glanced up at the wall. "Oh, most of that was done a while back. But it wasn't very neat. An explosion got in the way of completion. And I'm still leaving some for another time." The detective commented. "But boredom is a problem. Aparently the criminals in London can never come up with something interesting and taxing. Give me problems, give me work. My mind rebells at stagnation."

As Molly sat down beside him on the sofa, the detective flickered his attention briefly to her. "Listen...sorry about the other day. I didn't side with Kaz because I like her better you know, she had a point. Besides, she's really nice once you get to know her. You should try talking to her more." His icy gaze settled on Molly, apparently questioning. "We were out of milk, so she decided to invite herself around with milk while I had made it clear that the kitchen was to be engaged in science experiments." Sherlock pointed out.

As far as the detective was aware, it was not a social thing to invite onself around. But then again, he did go against the majority of social rules, so he couldn't really give too much complainted. Sherlock also didn't mention that this might be another person for John to try and ask out, and thus one more stupid person visiting and getting into trouble. So far nothing like that had happened, to Sherlock's relief, but his opinion of Karen had not changed, even though she had tried to help him out.

[Molly Hooper]

"Well, there was something rather strange... We found a rather....odd death. It was like, there wasn't a trace of anything. The body wasn't harmed in any way, plus the blood samples I scanned...well, they were different, very very strange. And I'm glad you're okay." Molly said, smiling gently at Sherlock. And she wasn't just glad; she was relieved. Though Molly was a bit of a freakout at times. And that didn't help her previous social awkwardness. Now though, Molly was learning to get more relaxed and more confident, and she knew that would be better, because stressing all the time was bad.

"Hmm. She was being friendly. After all, she and John became friends pretty easily." Molly pointed out. "But, I get why you don't like her. I just think...you know what? It doesn't matter." Molly said suddenly. Kaz might let something slip if she and Sherlock got too close. And that would be the most embarrassing thing ever. Molly shook herself to stop her thinking about it. She looked at Sherlock.

"You know, shooting the wall doesn't exactly satisfy boredom, whenever you did it. It just makes a mess. Doesn't John mind?" Molly asked. She imagined he would, as Molly herself would be very very cross. Then again, Sherlock was as strange as going as far as shooting an almost-perfect smiley face in the wall, so she'd probably expect that from him if she lived here with him. That would be another unlikely thing. Molly was about to say something, but there was a screech and a bang from outside. "What the..??" Molly said, going over to the window to stare out of it. "What the hell was that?" she finished her sentence, peering out of the window to look.

[Sherlock Holmes]

"Well, there was something rather strange... We found a rather....odd death. It was like, there wasn't a trace of anything. The body wasn't harmed in any way, plus the blood samples I scanned...well, they were different, very very strange. And I'm glad you're okay." Sherlock perked up at the idea that there was a strange death. "Do you want to head over to the morgue right now?" Sherlock asked hopefully, it was much more interesting than hanging around in his sheet, doing nothing but shooting the wall.

Getting up, Sherlock picked up a ball and started tossing it in one hand, keeping his other than free incase his sheet did not hold its position. Despite having a gun shot in one arm, he stilled used his hands and lead a rather active life. Luckily the wound had not reopened and he didn't have any models showing up, demanding that he let her help him. That would be annoying. Still, people were worried about the wound, wondering how it was healing. That was the reason why Molly had decided to visit, after all.

"Hmm. She was being friendly. After all, she and John became friends pretty easily." Sherlock sighed and tossed the ball higher. John always seemed to get on well with everyone. Or at least try to. It was dull. Why should someone try and make other people like them? "But, I get why you don't like her. I just think...you know what? It doesn't matter." Sherlock's head moved to look at Molly as she said it didn't matter. There was evidentally something else to this. Something she had only just realised. Something which meant that she either didn't matter or wanted to cover up.

It would be possible to ask about such things, but Sherlock didn't. It would be another deducing game for him to work on. Hopefully the game wouldn't last to long. Despite being bored, this was only trivial and Sherlock preffered it if he figured out such things quickly. He just needed more context. Well, it was said to him, but only something she just remembered and so it had to be something that she had forgotten about. So probably not that important, although it was something worth not pressing the point of him being nicer to Kaz.

"You know, shooting the wall doesn't exactly satisfy boredom, whenever you did it. It just makes a mess. Doesn't John mind?" Sherlock looked over to Molly and placed the ball down. "He didn't seem to like it last time. But I doubt he'll notice this time." Sherlock commented. Only a few more holes in the wall, no traces but some dust on the sofa. It was at this point that a car seemed to backfire and Sherlock looked briefly over at the window. "What the..??"

"Car backfiring. Nothing to worry about." The detective said, standing up and walking to the window, his eyes stopping on a stopped car. A man was getting out and trying to sort out the vehicle. "More common than one would think." Sherlock commented, going back to the sofa and collapsing on it, bored. Hopefully he'd be able to go to the morgue and Sherlock wouldn't be told that hanging around with cadavers was not good for his health considering the healing bullet wound. As far as Sherlock could see, there would be no problem.

((Hope you don't mind me explaining the noise as a car backfiring. I just doubted that it would be some interesting criminal.))

[Molly Hooper]

"Alright, if you really want to go." Molly said, shrugging. After all, she did feel sorry for him as he was really bored it seems, so he got to the point of shooting the wall, more so shooting a smiley face into the wall. Having a wound meant you usually couldn't do much, but he seemed to be getting better, so why not? He could come up with an easy explanation for the strange body, strange blood, strange death, whatever. That was what he was good at.

"I think you'll find he will notice. After all, when someone shoots the wall you kinda remember how or where they shot it. Mind you, with John being a doctor and all, I don't suppose he has time to look. Okay, you have a point." Molly, shut up! She thought. Honestly.

Molly sat back down on the sofa too when she saw he was right, it was just a car backfiring. Molly thought about what she'd said earlier. She'd seen Sherlock's face, but he didn't ask, which was a relief. Perhaps it could stay a secret jsut a tiny bit longer. That would be a relief too, despite the fact that she knew at some point he would get it.

She glanced at Sherlock for a moment, then spoke. "If we are going though, you can't seriously be thinking of going in your sheet?" Molly asked. She'd laugh if he did; that would cause quite a few people to stare at them, but then again she didn't suppose he cared if people stared. He probably just wanted to get going with the body investigating since he was so bored. Molly looked out of the window then at her hands, chewing her lip hard.

[Sherlock Holmes]

"Alright, if you really want to go." That was good. Hopefully this would be something interesting to occupy his mind fo several hours. He doubted that it would capture his attention for anything longer. Things were just very easy now days.He had hoped that Moriarty would take action sooner, still, it was something to look forward to. At least he knew that he wouldn't be bored for the rest of his life. "Should be able to clear it up in a few hours." Sherlock commented, still hoping that it might be more complicated.

"I think you'll find he will notice. After all, when someone shoots the wall you kinda remember how or where they shot it. Mind you, with John being a doctor and all, I don't suppose he has time to look. Okay, you have a point." Sherlock watched Molly with his icy gaze as she spoke, changing her words from disagreeing to agreeing. "It is only a slight change to the human gaze. Generally you need something more obvious to capture your attention." Sherlock replied. That was why they needed his help on cases.

As he dropped the topic of Karen, Sherlock's noticed Molly's relief. So it was something that Kaz knew and didn't want Sherlock to find out. Something embaressing about her? Molly not showing him an interesting cadaver? That would be annoying. Either way, Sherlock doubted that Karen would tell him. As far as he could tell, Karen was not keen on him either. "Karen wouldn't tell me. The lack of friendship between us is mutal, I believe." Sherlock commted. of course he wasn't the best at understand normal human emotions. The ones to commit crimes he could understand, needed to, for his work. The others were unimportant.

"If we are going though, you can't seriously be thinking of going in your sheet?" Despite having been to buckingham Palace in his bedsheet, Sherlock did not wear it all the time. For anything interesting, the detective was perfectly fine with getting dressed. "I'll change. You can go on ahead. I should only be a few minutes behind you." Sherlock said. It wouldn't take too long to get dressed and catch a cab to St Batholomew's. Even if he decided to run, he knew all the short cuts and would not be too far behind.

[Molly Hooper]

"If you got too close to her she might." Molly said, biting her lip. "But I can see the lack of friendship there, you're right."

"Alright, I'll go. Don't take too long, though." Molly said. She smiled a little, got up, and began to head for the door. She pulled her bag, which she had forgotten about until now, more firmly onto her shoulder. A diary page, without Molly noticing, fell out of the bag as she did so.

However, Molly didn't notice as she exited Sherlock's house and began to head for St Bart's. She kept walking towards St Bart's, thinking about what the body explanation and that could possibly be, after all, nobody except Sherlock could work that out. He was so clever that way. Molly kept thinking as she walked, looking around her at the car collision. She chuckled softly, but said nothing. It was typical of Sherlock again, to know immediately what it was that had caused a sound, but of course nobody else could know what it was unless they had been watching, or if they looked out of the window and saw it clearly and plainly in front of them. Molly was like the people who had to actually look or had to see it. She continued to walk, a little brisker this time, and wondered what was really going on in this mystery, but she had a feeling she was going to find out pretty soon.

[Sherlock Holmes]

"If you got too close to her she might." Sherlock looked over at Molly as she said that. The detective doubted it. generally friendships didn't involve giving away a secret, as far as he could tell. It was yet another unspoken social conduct that the detective was not bound by. But Karren would be bound by it. "But I can see the lack of friendship there, you're right." "So as you see, no need to worry or attempt to create a friendship." Sherlock said, coldly, getting up and going over to the mantel peice, examing the skull. He already had some ideas on how the person in the morgue had died.

"Alright, I'll go. Don't take too long, though." Sherlock nodded. "I should be there less than hlaf an hour after you arrive." Sherlock informed her. As Moly left, the detective noticed a page of something falling out of her bag. The detective moved to pick it up, but didn't bother calling Molly back to give it to her. it would be less than half an hour until he next saw her. A few minutes would make make that much difference. His eyes scanned briefly over the page, incase it was a note. It was a diary.

Putting it on the table, Sherlock went to get dressed, that took less than five minutes. Everything in his room was in perfect order and he already had his clothes laid out, for whenever he would need them. Depearting his room, Sherlock picked up the page of the diary. Briefly, he considered that Molly may be angry at the fact that he had scanned over the page. However, he already knew most of the information. The last Christmas he had celebrated had shed light onto how Molly felt.

Hailing a cab, Sherlock got in, and told the driver were to head. The journey was not that long, and during it Sherlock thought about the possibilities of the cadaver. As he arrived, he paid the driver and stepped outside, before entering the hospital and moving quickly towards the morgue. Molly should have arrived only about ten minutes before him at the most. Entering, Sherlock's eyes scanned over the room. "You left this behind." Sherlock commented, pulling the page out of his pocket and holding it up in a gloved hand.

[Molly Hooper]

Molly, when she arrived, got all ready and then went to examine, once again, the patient. She looked him over, frowning. Still nothing. She took another blood sample in a phial, and slipped it into her pocket because she wanted to analyze it again. She looked up when Sherlock arrived. When he held out the page to her, she took it back. "Thanks." then she froze when she saw what was written on it. She shifted nervously, then put it in her pocket. "Did you...read it?" she asked, her voice managing not to wobble. She began to re-look over the patient as she awaited his answer.

This was bad, Molly thought. But, it wasn't as if he'd say anything, she hoped. She was just rather embarrassed. She took some of the patient's hair and put it in another phial, which she also put in her pocket. There had to be a trace somewhere. She then glanced at the patient once more. She was sure she hadn't missed anything - and by the looks of things, she hadn't.

"Strange," she muttered. "Nothing, absolutely nothing." she sighed and rubbed her forehead, something she had started to do when she was stressed or trying to figure something else. Sometimes, she did it because she felt both. Molly tied her hair back out of the way and waited, without looking at Sherlock, his ideas on the situation.

[Sherlock Holmes]

After Molly had taken back the page, Sherlock went straight over to the body and began to examine it, looking for any small marks that may suggest towards the course of death and the reason behind the strange blood samples that Molly had mentioned earlier. Turning over the arm, Sherlock examined the vein, taking out his magnifying glass and looking for any sign of an insert. He was checking on left arm, while most people would have checked the right. But the man was obviously left handed. There was a small hint of a prick on the vein. So far, his idea was prooving correct.

"Thanks." Sherlock gave a small nod, turning around. He wanted to analyse the blood, to see if it would verify his conclusion. "Do you have any blood samples for me to test, or shall I get my own?" Sherlock asked, politely. The detective knew that it had already been tested, but he prefered to examine it himself. Everyone missed out the important details. They never looked in the right place. They just looked for the obvious. That was how Carl Powers' death had remained a mystery to the police. They never looked properly.

"Did you...read it?" Sherlock glanced over at Molly, having turned back to look at the body again while he waited for the answer about the blood. "Only friefly." he said, not realising that it may actually matter and it would have be better to say no. "But you don't need to worry. Nothing was new information." He commented, still examining the corpse. Right now, he really needed to test the blood. Turning around back to face Molly, Sherlock spoke. "That's everything about the body deduced."

Examining her, Sherlock thought he might have seen worry in her, but figuring out human emotions was never easy, unless he was working with the chemical side of it. "I need to axmine the blood, now." He declared, hoping to bring the topic back to more important things like the mysteriously dead person, of which he would hopefully figure out after examined the blood samples. Briefly, it once again crossed Sherlock's mind that Molly actually might not be that happy if he read her diary, but predicting humans was not that easy.

[Molly Hooper]

"Uh, yeah, here." Molly said, looking up for the first time and handing over the phial with the blood sample she had taken. When he said that he had read it, but that nothing was new, Molly blinked. So...he had already known? That didn't matter. Molly didn't know what to say, so she decided not to say anything. She kept examining the body, taking a different blood sample for herself and putting it in yet another phial, and again putting it in her pocket.

"It's better to examine it down at the lab, though you actually know that." Molly said. She was speaking normally, as if he hadn't said anything. She carried on studying the body, then nodded a bit, and turned to Sherlock. "I'm going down to the lab." she informed him, and then turned and began to leave for the lab.

Really, Molly thought as she walked towards the lab, it was her fault that he read that diary page. If her diary wasn't always in her bag, the page wouldn't have fallen out. Better still, if Molly hadn't been so careless with it it wouldn't be breaking to pieces. But that didn't matter. For now she was only interested in getting to the lab and finding out how that person had died. After all, his family desperately wanted to know - there was to be a funeral, it was said, and they needed to know how he died because everybody always asked. Molly understood this. Humans were so nosy, including herself despite her not wanting to be. You say someone has died, and they start: Ooh, I'm so sorry. HOW did they die? or If you don't mind my asking, how did they die? or even sometimes So sorry for your loss, how did they die? This is most unfortunate, how did they die? Molly rolled her eyes. Even she was like that sometimes, but she was often too much of a worrier so she often found it better if she didn't ask anyway. She entered the lab, got everything prepared and began to analyze the hair and blood sample. Then she waited, studying the lab for something out of place. There was nothing.

[Sherlock Holmes]

"Uh, yeah, here." Sherlock took the sample, and held it up to the light, examining it. If he were correct in his assumption, there should be a little change in the colour of the blood. One that appeared to have been through oxygenation and deoxygenation, one that wouldn't appear to be blood cells, but be similar. The different would only be slight, and only visible when seen. A flow cytometer would mix the sample, so it took everything, and thus there would be more confusion, as the blood settled from the slight movement, Sherlock gave a small smile as the results he had predicted started to show.

"It's better to examine it down at the lab, though you actually know that." Sherlock gave a small nod, turning his attention back to Molly. "Just wanted to examine it as a whole before breaking it down." Sherlock commented. "I'm going down to the lab." Sherlock nodded and moved to follow Molly. He needed to analyse the blood sample in more detail now that he had briefly examined it as a whole. Molly didn't appear to be in the best of states and Sherlock wondered if it was linked to him reading her diary.

They walked in silence, which didn't bother Sherlock, he used used to silence and it was preferable to talking. Silence allowed him a chance to think. It appeared that the man had a false set of blood, someone trying to replicate the blood. So science knowledge, but ameaturs. Why would you need to put blood into a body, if too much had been lost and you didn't have enough spare blood. Lost blood through donating it, which fitted with the idea of ameturs. Probably drained too much and then tried to hide it.