Perfect Timing

Molly drew in a painful breath before entering the morgue. This was it, this was where she was going to build up her courage and ask Sherlock out. Yanking the rubber band from her pony tale, she shook out her long caramel coloured hair and walked over to him. Doctor Watson was there but she didn't mind, she liked him. Sherlock was sat down, looking through a microscope at what Molly could identify as skin cells. He didn't look up at her when she walked in, as apposed to Watson, who smiled brightly. 

"Hi Sherlock, Doctor Watson," Molly smiled nervously at them. 

"Hi Molly, please call me John," John smiled before shooting a glare at Sherlock when he didn't answer, "Sorry about him."

"Yeah, it's okay. He's like this whenever he comes into work." She said, her heart racing as he glanced at her briefly before looking back at the microscope. 

"Have you done something with your hair?" He asked, taking some notes down, "It looks... Different."

"Erm... Yes, I ... I have." Why did she always have to stammer? "I took it out,"

"Good, that side pony tale was annoying me," He muttered, his iced blue eyes flickering between the notes and the microscope.

"Okay... Erm... Sherlock I was wondering whether -" 

"Black, two sugars please," He answered simply, gaining a look from John. 

John immediately clicked on and answered for her, "That's not what she was going to ask you, Sherlock."

"Yeah, thanks ... John," She said, smiling nervously at him, "I was just... Well... Maybe... Would you like to have dinner?"

He looked at her briefly with those beautiful blue before taking more notes, "I don't eat when I'm musing over a case, I'd much rather have coffee. Black, two sugars,"

Molly's heart picked up speed and she felt a sweat break out on her palms. He didn't know what she meant. 

Closing her eyes, Molly took yet answer deep breath. Sherlock heard the increase of her breathing and checked to make sure if she was okay, "Molly?"

"I was just wondering if you'd like to have dinner. With me?" She opened her eyes and peeked at his expression which was emotionless as he rose from his chair and looked at John. 

"The skin cells show that the body was exactly six days, four hours and twelve  minutes old. Yes, it was electrocuted but by what?" He threw his hands up in the air, "What could possibly electrocute a human like that."

Molly has started to think that he'd forgotten about her. Maybe she could slip through the door unnoticed. She very much doubted Sherlock would notice her at all, he hadn't even answered her question. A sinking feeling made it's way to her stomach and she felt her throat tighten. 
She felt sick. This had been a very bad idea.
Just when she was about to give up and head for the door, Sherlock turned to her, fixing her with those icy blue eyes.

"Molly, I told you just a moment a go that I don't eat on a case. Good day." 

Sherlock walked past her, his coat blowing a breeze as he headed for the door. John followed him, shooting her apologetic glances as she turned away and pulled a body from the refrigerators. Disappointment washed through her body, freezing her to the core. He'd said no. After waiting and praying and building her hopes up, he'd said no. 
She really needed a drink

***

Three hours later Molly was dressed nicely as she headed for the nearest pub, desperate to sit down, drink a little and drown in her sorrows. 
He'd said no. 
The winter whether was cold and harsh and she knew she shouldn't have worn a dress but she didn't have anything nicer to wear. The dress was electric blue and knee length, matching her blue high heels and complementing her pale skin. 
Molly pushed the doors to the pin open and sat down at the bar, taking out her purse. 

"What can I get you love?" The barmaid asked, smiling warmly at her as she dried glasses. 

"Red wine please, Rose," She muttered before speaking again, "Actually make that a really big glass of red wine,"

"Rough day, huh?" The barmaid asked, pouring Molly her glass. 

"Yeah," She sighed, "Men,"

"Who needs them," A woman next to her answered. 

Molly glanced at the woman. She had dark red hair and a pale face with few freckles. She was extremely pretty and slender. Her dress was even shorter then Molly's, the pink material hiking up her leg. 

"Here here," Molly answered before turning to the woman and extending her hand, "Hi, I'm Molly, Molly Hooper."

The woman looked at the hand before extending her own, "Amy Pond."

"So, someone's treated you badly as well?" Molly asked as the barmaid placed the drink in front on her. She sipped the massive glass while she waiting for Amy to answer. 

"You bettcha," She sighed, "It's a long story,"

Molly smiled slightly, "I have time. I'd rather not get back to where... He is."

"Okay then," Amy smiled back before her face turned solemn, "Exactly a year ago my Husband died."

"Oh. I'm sorry for your loss," Molly interrupted, feeling sorry for her new friend.

Amy, however, smiled slightly at Molly's concern, "Thanks. Anyway we had one, very close friend and I half expected him to stay with me when Rory died. But did he? No. He took me home after it happened, promised to visit and never came back. Last night he turned up to my house, asking for my help on something without so much as a 'I'm sorry',"

"Wow, seriously? That bastard! That's way worse then mine," Molly muttered, her brown eyes wide and her mouth forming an 'O' shape. 

"Okay then, shoot," She downed her glass of vodka as Molly sipped her wine, "Mary Anne? I'll have another vodka and please can you get my friend another red wine. On me,"

"Well I work at a morgue." Molly started, taking a sip of her other wine. 

"A morgue?" Amy interrupted, "That's where you cut up dead bodies, right?"

"Yep. The guy I like is a detective and often comes in to see if I have a dead body he can cut up... Without authorisation,"

"Really?" Amy asked, interested. 

"Yeah, he's a sociopath so he has to keep his mind active twenty four seven. He'll just sit and he won't talk for hours."

"Wow," Amy breathed. 

"I know! Anyway, I'm in love with him. It's not even a crush, I'm in actual in love with him. He barely notices me though and if he wants something he'll give me complements to bring my hopes up just to knock them back down. I've asked him out multiple times and he just dismisses it. I asked him out today and I asked him if he wanted coffee the other week,"

Amy leaned forward, "What did he say?"

"He said... Black, two sugars," Molly laughed bitterly. 

"Did you actually get him coffee?" She asked, gulping more vodka, "I would've slapped him,"

"Yes I did," Molly muttered regrettably, "I was just trying to impress him. At one point I thought I'd gotten over him, I had a boyfriend and took him to meet him,"

"Did you? What happened?"

"He deducted that he was gay and told me to avoid the heartache by breaking it off," Molly sighed. 

"Are you sure he wasn't jealous? That sounds like jealousy to me," Amy mused. 

Molly shook her head, "No. He doesn't want me. I can't match up to him at all. He needs someone like... Him." She sighed, "Turned out Jim was gay though. And a criminal master mind."

Amy nearly spat out her drink, "What?"

"I dated a criminal master mind. The guy I like, well, he turned up briefly to tell me the news and walked off without another word. I wanted him to stay, I really did. I just wanted to be held, is that too much to ask?"

"No, not at all. I wish my guy would hold me," Amy said sadly. 

"What's the extent of your feelings for this guy?" Molly asked, drinking more wine. Her head has begun to spin. 

"I don't exactly know. I can never tell with him. I want to be with him, I think about him a lot and I do care about him. But he's so ... Awkward," Amy made a desperate noise. 

"I hear you! It's awful," She sighed. 
Molly downed the rest of her wine and checked her watch, "I'm gunna have to go now, I have to be at the morgue early but... Do you wanna meet for coffee tomorrow?"

"Sure," Amy smiled, "I'd like that,"

"I'll meet you at Lucy's coffee shop
at twelve, thats my lunch break." Molly smiled back, "Bye,"

She walked off, through the door and out into the cold, bitter air, feeling (for once) happy.