Chapter Text
The slide came into focus as Sherlock delicately twisted the microscope’s knobs. If his theory was correct (and they usually were), that very slide, containing a small sample of dirt, would mean life or death for his client, Ms. Naomi Keats. If he just adjusted a bit more…
The dull clap of plastic on metal broke his concentration and he jerked his head up. Next to the microscope was a tray of food. Low-quality: it had to have come from the hospital cafeteria. Sherlock wrinkled his nose and turned to Molly, who now stood next to him, for explanation.
“You need to eat something,” she ordered. Sherlock turned back to his microscope silently. There was a scrape as the tray was inched closer to him, nudging his arm. He huffed.
“Molly, you of all people know that I don’t eat when I’m on a case. Slows me down.”
“I don’t care,” she rebutted, crossing her arms. “It’s been days and it’s not healthy. I know the food here is hardly gourmet, but the fish usually isn’t that bad. Come on, I’ve even cut it for you.”
Sherlock opened his mouth, snarky comment about hospital food already prepared in his mind, but Molly shook her head.
“No, I’ll have no more arguments. Eat.”
Another moment passed as Sherlock weighed the situation in his mind. Molly had grown quite stubborn recently and if he didn’t give in then, she might never let up. And a grumpy Molly was difficult to work with.
As he pondered, Molly sighed. “Please? It’ll make me feel better if you did.”
Sherlock released one of the knobs of the microscope to take up the fork and stab a bite of the fish. Under Molly’s watchful gaze and while still frowning at her, Sherlock ate it. She smiled.