(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

[workaphilic]

Black, two sugars. Thank you, Molly.

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

[mortalis]

[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]

[workaphilic]

[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.]