Prompting Part XXIX

[sherlockbbc_fic]

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Fill: At Right Angles (1b/?)

[anonymous]

He pushed open the door leading to a brightly lit lab, full of state-of-the-art equipment. Joan barely stopped herself from whistling as she took in gleaming post mortem tables, ventilated formulin mixing unit, and stainless steel dissecting benches. There was even an overhead projector, presumably for teaching purposes, and a bunch of brand-new electronic apparatus she didn’t recognize from her days as a student. “Bit different from my day,” she commented, stepping inside.

“And mine,” Mike chuckled. “Molly? Molly, are you-oh, it’s you, Sherlock.”

Mike stopped abruptly, and Joan nearly bumped into him. She leaned around his solid bulk to get a better view of the room. Seated at one of the counters on the far side of the lab was a pale, praying mantis of a man, with a thatch of unruly dark hair. He was bent over one of the microscopes, ignoring them completely.

“You know you’re not supposed to be in here without a staff member,” Mike chided, but he sounded more amused than angry. “Have you seen Molly recently?”

“Canteen,” the man grunted without looking up. “She offered to get coffee.”

“Ah,” Mike said as though that explained everything. He turned back to Joan. “Sorry, Joan, it looks like Molly’s a bit occupied at the moment. Shall I walk you through the paperwork now then, and we can do the lab bit later?”

Before she could respond, the pale man interrupted. “Who is she?”

He’d directed the question at Mike, eyes narrowed. Rather rude, considering Joan was standing right there.

“Sherlock, this is Dr. Joan Watson, an old friend,” Mike replied. Joan quietly thought “old friend” was stretching the point a bit, but she was hardly going to argue. “She’ll be filling in while Molly’s on maternity leave. Joan, this is Sherlock Holmes. He’s a private detective, and he uses the labs here sometimes.”

“Consulting detective,” the man-Sherlock Holmes-corrected Mike haughtily.

“Nice to meet you,” Joan said.

“Hmm,” Sherlock hummed. He was staring at her in an incredibly invasive way. It made her want to cross her arms over her abdomen and hide. Oddly, she didn’t feel like her breasts were in danger of being ogled though. “Afghanistan or Iraq?”

“Um…what?” she said flatly, glancing at Mike. He was hiding a grin, the git.

“I said, Afghanistan or Iraq,” Sherlock repeated, rolling his eyes impatiently.

Joan opened her mouth to retort, but just then a petite, if distinctly rotund, brunette woman bustled into the lab. She was clutching a steaming paper cup in one hand and a doughnut in the other. “Sherlock, I got your-oh!”

“Molly,” Mike smiled at the brunette. “I was just looking for you. This is Dr. Watson. She’ll be covering your shift starting next week.”

“Oh!” Molly said again, this time in delight. Joan eyed the sloshing coffee warily as the woman attempted to wave hello with her hands full. “That’s wonderful. I was beginning to worry we wouldn’t find anyone. It’s not the most glamorous job-I mean, what do you put in a job ad for morgue technician?” she giggled nervously.

“Wanted: one qualified medical professional, necrophiliacs need not apply,” Sherlock quipped, swooping to grab the coffee cup out of Molly’s hand. “Don’t worry Molly, Dr. Watson here fulfills both criteria.”