(no subject)

[workaphilic]

[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.

Comments

[mortalis]

[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]