lifeofpineapple | (no subject)

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[The lab facilities of the clinic are much nicer since the renovation. More sophisticated machines, a wider variety of resources, better organization. He can spend as much time as he likes down here, now, doing whatever pops into his mind whenever he gets bored. Which is often. Standard for him, really.

What's less clear is why he sent that clipped, terse text demanding she come down to the lab at once.

He's probably been silent for ages, just sitting at a microscope and staring and thinking and occasionally adjusting the magnification.

But then he sticks his hand out abruptly, urgently.]

Pass me a pipette.

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[She's caught in the familiar cross of what is working with Sherlock, and by 'working with', she means being in his general vicinity as he accomplishes tasks. The crossroads being between curiously enthralled in watching him work and gleaning what she can from it, and being utterly bored.

She isn't sure why she came, actually that's a lie, yes she is. And now she's been tasked to sit in his vicinity, in silence, for a reason she can't discern. Which is why his voice, when it finally comes, startles her]

Oh! Yes...Okay.

[And she's hurrying to grab one from the work table and handing it to him]

[He takes it from her without looking, and slides the dish of whatever it is he's examining out from under the microscope. He holds it up to peer at it from a slightly different angle.

Then:]

Sulfuric acid. Now, please.

[The "please" is kind of pointless when you say it in that tone, Sherlock.]

[This would bother her more, if it weren't for the fact that she's just so pleased to have something to do, to have some form of attention now. Besides, she's getting used to his abrasive nature, and this in general, is harmless.

And at least, minimal effort at politeness was made, so she's sure that's some form of progress. As such, she's going to fetch it wordlessly for him, and then lean closer to get a better look at what he's doing. Wow her, bb]

[He sets the dish down on the bench -- some kind of soil sample, by the looks of it -- and moves to pull a decent amount of that acid solution into his pipette.

Blandly, while he dispenses it into another flask full of something-or-other,]

Don't hover, Molly, it interferes with my concentration.

[There's a soft exhalation of air, definitely of the vaguely frustrated nature, before she's moving back to her original position, trying to guess what he's doing with the info she has]

What...

[A small hesitation, because she honestly knows he's more likely to tell her not to talk, or degrade her for not obviously understanding, and changes direction] Why did you call me down here?

Hm? Oh. [He adjusts the magnification on the microscope again.] Needed an assistant and John wouldn't come.

[wow okay sherlock you already won the d-bag award you can stop playing now.]

O-oh...I thought it was...

[No, don't even finish that sentence Molly, you're only going to bore him. She knows enough to know that he doesn't care what she thought of it, especially when she's wrong] I'll just go get coffee, Shall I?

Black, two sugars. Thank you, Molly.

[Just because you say the words doesn't mean you're being polite, Sherlock.]

[The way she gets off her stool sharply enough to send it jostling back into the table, sniffing mildly as she exits with enough force to also cause the door to swing far wider than it needs to be, suggests just as much.

Don't worry though, she'll be back]

[Of course she will. He knows exactly how far he's able to push with people, and with Molly that leash is very, very, very, very long.

He busies himself making his test solution. (Without goggles or gloves. Way to practice proper lab safety, Sherlock Holmes.) Coffee really does sound super excellent right now.]

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