The next morning, Brayleigh got up and made herself a cup of tea before going off to work.  She thought about stopping in and seeing Sherlock and John before she left, but thought better of it remembering what Sherlock had said the night before.

"I wonder how big  of a case this is, " Brayleigh said to herself as she put on her coat.  "Computer hackings and faked deaths aren't exactly my area of expertise, but it seems like someone went through a lot of trouble to make sure that their identities were protected."

Brayleigh closed the door behind her and walked down the stairs.  She could faintly hear the sounds of Sherlock playing his violin as she passed 221B.  I wish he would play for me sometime, she thought to herself as she stopped on the first stair to listen.  He's very talented.

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Brayleigh stood outside as she called for a taxi to pick her up for work.  The street was wet from the rain the night before, and the air smelled of petrichor.

Not five minutes later, a taxi pulled up alongside the sidewalk in front of Brayleigh.  "Where to?" the driver asked Brayleigh as she climbed into the backseat.  "St. Bart's Hospital, please."  she responded.

The usually sixteen-minute drive was made longer by the heavy traffic.  I hope I have enough to cover the extra cost, Brayleigh thought as she filed through her wallet.  Deciding that she did, she put her wallet back in her purse.  Just then, a small ding went off.  Brayleigh immediately recognised this as her phone and pulled it out of her pocket.  "Battery is almost dead," Brayleigh said with a sigh as she powered down her mobile.  "I sure hope no one will try to get in touch with me."

Twenty minutes passed before the taxi pulled in front of St. Bart's.  "How much do I owe you?" Brayleigh asked the cabbie.  "£ 10.40, please." he responded.  Brayleigh paid the fare, stepped out of the taxi, and entered the hospital.

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As soon as she put on her lab coat, Brayleigh made her way down to the morgue where she worked and began to run tests on a culture of bacteria.  Grabbing a pipet, she suctioned up a selection of chemicals and dropped them into the petri dish.  Just then, Molly opened the door.  Brayleigh was so focused on her work that she jumped when Molly came over to her.

"Hi Brayleigh," Molly said quietly.   "How are you?"

"Hi, Molly!" Brayleigh said.  "I'm good.  Who's your friend over there?"  She gestured toward the corpse on the table.

"Oh, that's Alan.  He was nice.  Went out with my cousin a few times," Molly answered.

"How did he die?"

"Accidental overdose on cyanide."

"That's a shame," Brayleigh said as she turned her head away for a second.

"It is.  Makes me worry about Sherlock sometimes,"  Molly admitted.

"Why?" Brayleigh asked.  "I just met him a couple of days ago and moved in next door.  He doesn't seem the type."

"Well, whenever he has a difficult time dealing with something, he does cocaine.  He's overdosed before, too.  I don't want anything to happen to him," Molly explained. 

"He didn't tell me about that."

"Yeah."

"So...do you like him?"  Brayleigh asked.

"What?"  Molly smiled.

"Do you like Sherlock?  I see the way you look at him.  It's difficult to miss."

"A little."

"He's brilliant.  I read his blog all of the time. It just amazes me how he can put so much together with so little information."

"Nothing is little to Sherlock."

"No, it's not.  When I first walked into their flat, he was able to tell me my life story in less than five minutes."

"So you like him then?" Molly asked.

"Ummm....If I did, would you be angry with me?"  Brayleigh responded.

"No," Molly responded, "He doesn't like me anyway, so it doesn't matter."

"What do you mean 'It doesn't matter,'?"

"Sherlock likes John, I think, so it wouldn't matter."

"Molly.  If he likes anyone, it's you."

"No.  Not Sherlock."

Just then, the door to the morgue opened.  "Hello Molly," Sherlock said as he walked in and hung up his coat.  

"Hello, Sherlock," Molly replied.

Meanwhile, Brayleigh had returned to what she was doing and pretended not to notice Sherlock's presence.  "I should let Molly have her space," she thought to herself.  "She's known Sherlock longer, and she deserves him."

"Where's John?" Molly asked Sherlock with a smile.

"Getting milk," Sherlock replied as he began to examine a slide under a microscope.

Brayleigh continued to busy herself with the task in front of her, transferring different chemicals to different portions of the Petri dish in an attempt to find one that would stint the progression of growth in the bacteria.  To keep herself focused, Brayleigh began to hum "The Phantom of the Opera" to herself, hitting every note perfectly as she did so.  She was so focused on her research, that she neglected to notice Sherlock stand up and make his way over to her.

"What are you doing?" Sherlock asked Brayleigh, who turned her head to look at him.

"I'm trying to develop a new cure for this specific strain of bacterial infection," Brayleigh responded.  "Why?"

"We need to leave," Sherlock explained mysteriously.

"What? Why?" Brayleigh asked.

"You didn't get my texts?" Sherlock asked, a hint of disgust in his voice.

"No.  My mobile's been off," Brayleigh explained.

"Here.  Let me catch you up." Sherlock opened up his and Brayleigh's texts on his phone and turned it so that she could read the messages.  

Once Brayleigh finished reading the texts, she looked up at Sherlock, amazed, and said, "Well, I can't just leave! I have work to do."  She gestured toward the Petri dish on the table.  "I'm trying to create a new way to prevent and treat this bacterial infection, and it requires my undivided attention."

Sherlock replaced his phone in his pocket.  "No it doesn't," he said.  "Molly is perfectly capable of taking care of your Carbapenen-Resistant Enterobacteriaceae while we go investigate.  Besides," Sherlock grabbed Brayleigh's shoulders and smiled.  "Why stay here when there's something fun  going on?!" 

Sherlock let go of Brayleigh's shoulders and went to the door.  After he quickly threw his coat on and tied his scarf around his neck, Sherlock looked at Brayleigh.  "Coming?" he asked, excitedly.

"Yes.  Just give me a second," Brayleigh responded as she peeled off her latex gloves and disposed of them in the garbage.  She made her way over to the sink where she washed her hands and disinfected them with alcohol wipes.  As she switched her lab coat with her jacket, Brayleigh asked, "Molly?"

"Yes?" Molly responded.

"Could you tell everyone that I had to leave on such short notice due to some family issues that needed attention, and that I'm terribly sorry for any inconvenience?" Brayleigh finished. "It would mean a lot to me."

"Yeah, sure," Molly agreed quietly.  "Bye Brayleigh.  Bye Sherlock," she said with a smile.  

Molly turned her attention back to the cadaver on the examination table as Brayleigh walked out the door.  Sherlock, who was already halfway out the doorway, waited for Brayleigh to exit before closing the door with a slam.

"So, where do we need to go?" Brayleigh inquired, picking up her pace to match that of Sherlock's.

Sherlock looked at Brayleigh out of the corner of his eye.  "The London Underground."