Work Text:
New Scotland Yard was becoming more familiar than it should be, even for a lab tech in a hospital's morgue.
"Thank you for your time," the officer said neutrally, showing Molly the door. "And don't forget, if you remember anything else - "
"I'll be sure to let you know," Molly finished for him. "I know how it goes, Officer. This is my sixth time here." He nodded, smiling awkwardly, and opened the door for her. Shivering as cold air rushed in, she wrapped her coat tighter around her body and walked out. Hunched over against the wind, she nearly bumped into a tall figure in a dark coat.
"Sherlock." And Dr. Watson not far behind him, a common sight these days.
The detective looked momentarily surprised to see her. "Molly." After a moment staring at her, he said, "Ah, Lestrade still thinks he can get something out of you, doesn't he? Foolish thought, there's no way Moriarty would have been so sloppy as to let you learn anything useful."
Molly winced. Same as ever, Sherlock didn't know how hurtful he could be. No, she corrected herself. It wasn't that he didn't know, he just didn't care.
"Sherlock," Dr. Watson said warningly. Sherlock glanced back at him, then at Molly again.
"Being rude again?" he asked. Dr. Watson nodded. "Sorry," Sherlock said, and if she hadn't known better it would have sounded sincere. Dr. Watson must have known better too, as he frowned, sending an apologetic look to Molly. As if he was apologizing for Sherlock, as if he could apologize in Sherlock's place.
A month ago, that would have hurt more. But Sherlock wasn't the biggest heartache she had, now.
"It's fine," Molly said quietly, ducking down into the warmth of her coat and walking away. "I have to be going."
"It was nice seeing you," Dr. Watson called after her, a vaguely concerned look on his face. She paused for a second, watching, but Sherlock's attention had already drifted away from her.
Of course it had. He never paid her attention unless he needed to use her, or she did something strange. Hiding, staring longingly from a distance, leaving with hardly a word, none of that was unusual for her, around him.
But around Jim -
No, it was still too soon. It still hurt too much. She spent the cab ride home pointedly not thinking about him. She thought about work, until her thoughts drifted towards the investigation going on because of Jim-from-I.T.'s easy infiltration of the hospital. Then she thought about Toby, until she remembered that she was almost out of the cat treats Jim had bought for him. She didn't even bother trying to think about something inane, like television; she couldn't even look at her Glee DVDs without remembering their karaoke night.
All of that had been a lie.
When Molly got home, it was to the sound of the faintest whining plea. She was late, and it was past Toby's dinnertime. Scratching him behind the ear was only a momentary consolation, and he was soon meowing painfully, clinging to her work pants as she scooped out a bowlful of vitamin-enriched food pellets.
Setting the bowl down, she winced as Toby's claws detached from her clothes, one by one. While he started on his dinner, she grabbed a frozen meal from her freezer and started it heating up in the microwave. Sitting at the kitchen table, waiting for it to finish, she considered Toby. He needed her for food, affection, and attention, like nobody else did.
And that wasn't perfect, but at least there was somebody who needed her. Who didn't lie to her. Who made her happy.
"At least you'll always love me, eh Toby?"
Toby climbed into her lap, purring when she scratched that spot behind his ear again. For the moment, it was enough.