#mollythepathologist

[paintedlies]

@mollythepathologist​   ♥’d   for   a   starter. 

      “ Sometimes  we  search  for  one  thing,  and  discover  another. ” 

[shrlxcked-a]

@mollythepathologist​   //   “i ran you a bath. get in it.”

OH,  DELIGHTFUL.  Yet  another  thing  the  detective  didn’t  want  or  need,  being  handed  to  him  on  the  silver  platter  of  sympathy.  Molly  was  the  master  of  it,  always  trying  to  take  care  of  him,  trying  to  ‘ look  out  for  him ‘ . . 

                    (  Oh  get  over  yourself,  Sherlock  Holmes. )

❛  Thank  you. ❜   he  spat,  clearly  a  rehearsed  response  nailed  into  him  by  John  Watson.  Always  do  better.  Do  better,  do  better.  Well  frankly,  Sherlock  could  not  be  bothered  to  do  better  right  now,  not  when  withdrawal  had  him  by  the  throat  with  its  deathly  grip.  There  was  so  much   poison  he  could  say  to  her,   but  he  swallowed  it  down. 

                    (  Chase  her  off,  so you  can  get  your  fix. ) 

Oh,  that  damned  voice -  ringing  through  his  head  constantly,  telling  him  what  to  do,  telling  him  to  make  the  wrong  choice,  always.    ❛  No. ❜   he  muttered  under  his  breath,  waving  his  hand  as  though  to  clear  the  air,  clear  the  voice.    He  brushed  past  her  towards  the  bathroom,  unbuttoning  his  shirt  on  the  way.  

[experimcnts]

      He’s  got  no  clue  what  has  gotten  into  him.  The  moment  he  saw  the  necklace  in  the  windowpane  of  a  jewelry  store,  he  walked  right  past  it,  giving  it  no  more  than  a  glance.  And  then  for  two  days  it  had  plagued  his  thoughts,  running  through  his  mind.  It  would  look  so  lovely  around  Molly’s  neck.  Perhaps  he  should  get  it  for  her,  Watson  had  informed  him  long  ago  that  a  man  should  treat  his  wife  to  delightful  surprises  every  once  in  a  while.

       And  so  he  did,  and  here  they  were.  At  least  to  himself,  Sherlock  couldn’t  deny  that  his  chest  expanded  with  the  feeling  of  pride,  and  something  even  warmer,  making  his  heart  beat  wilder.  That  same  heart  almost  leaped  out  of  his  throat  the  moment  Molly  asked  him  to  fasten  the  chain  around  her  neck.  

      “ Not  at  all.  Here, ”  a  swallow  of  the  lump  in  his  throat,  Sherlock  gently  takes  the  necklace  from  her,  fingers  brushing  against  her  hand  in  a  fleeting  moment,  He  circles  around  her,  the  weight  of  the  gold  chain  carefully  settled  on  her  collarbones,  tugged  up  just  enough  to  grant  him  enough  space  to  fiddle  with  the  clasp,  until  it’s  done.  Doesn’t  even  resist  the  urge  to  brush  his  hands  over  her  shoulders.  “ There  you  are.  Like  I  thought,  it  suits  you  splendidly. ”  

@mollythepathologist​    ╳   continued  from  here   .

[consultingsister-aa]

STARTER CALL // @mollythepathologist​

“I mean this is in the loveliest way possible but... god, please hurry up.” She has been hoping to meet Molly in reception, to get a vague answer to how’s work and then move on to the wine tasting but instead, she had received a cheery message about just popping down to the morgue as she’s run over a bit. Popping down to a morgue? In these shoes? 

She tries to look anywhere but the body but she swears the dead guy has moved three times. It’s taking her back to medical school and cadaverous and... well a lot of trying her best not to throw up until after class. “How do you do this job... how do you hang around dead people all day and not... I don’t know, imagine them getting up to murder you?!”

[deadsexy]

@mollythepathologist (continued)

It was soooo easy to give her a big ol’ grin. Followed it up with a idiotic laugh and he fumbled around in his back pocket to pull out his wallet, full of small bills and a few crumpled receipts. All for show, every bit of it and Jim hated that he was actually having fun playing a bumbling idiot.

“Um-- two coffees please,” muttered kindly to the attendant and he did the gentlemanly thing of taking both of their cups along on his tray to the small table where the cream and sugar waited. “How d’ya take it?” He poured himself a fair amount of cream and shook open three sugar packets.

“I find it awfully bitter, canteen coffee, anymore than three and I’ll be up for three days.” Oddly enough that part was true, the cream and three sugars was also how Jim often fixed his own coffee when on his own. No need to suffer during playtime, after all.

[strngrmdst-a]

@mollythepathologist

Professor Hooper,

Thank you for taking the time to answer my questions- the manuscript was submitted yesterday. The editor sent me a horrified note back. I’d call that a success.

You mentioned having a break in your schedule this week? If you’re free, I could give you a physical copy of the script before it’s published.

I had more questions for you as well, if you’re willing to answer them: How long would it take for a person to die if they started eating their own larg -

It wasn’t until Rich got to the coffee house that he realized how stupidly out of touch he was. There was going under cover, acting the clumsy, shy delivery person or clueless student or whatever else he needed to pretend to be that day, then there was actually going to a place, waiting around like a normal person for one’s date, and trying not to act like he hasn’t done something like this in- literally longer than he could remember. He stood at the gate of the cheerful establishment, smiling awkward and acknowledging to the baristas watching him from inside- he’d gotten there early, of course, maybe too early?- and tried not to crease the large envelope-with-type-written-manuscript inside (extra detail, a little dramatic, he thought she’d like it). 

He saw her before she saw him, which was unsurprising since his pen name didn’t have any photos attached to it, and he’d stalked looked into her a little before writing her, that first time. “Professor Hooper- !” He cleared his throat, gave a little wave. Side-stepped a couple of people walking by, to make his way toward her. “Cagney- or, ‘B-Brook’. Richard Brook. Good to finally meet you.”

[watsonofagun]

continued with @mollythepathologist

        “Yeah—yeah, I will be, maybe once that fuckin’ thing         gets the fuck out of here.”

John was sweary when he was drunk and angry. Usually quiet if just drunk. But they weren’t out in public, it was just him and Molly ( and a bloody cat ) and he was allowed to whatever he wanted to be on every whim of the moment. Though really, he should be looking into the scratch on his hand that was positively reddening with blood oozing out of them. He sat up, waving his hand at Toby in a comically furious manner.

        “Out, or I’ll, uhm, something, to you. You—Sherlock.”

Toby, his name was Toby. But ‘annoyance’ sounded like a Sherlock right now.

[youngerhooper-blog]

@mollythepathologist 

“You look terrible. Do you get any bloody sleep?”