Interruptions

Molly reached out one gloved hand to turn the cadaver's face away from her. There, now she could see the damage more clearly. Significant bruising on one side of the neck, torn sternocleidomastoid. She looked again, then scribbled some notes on the form. Bloody paperwork. It seemed like she was buried in mountains of the stuff; just when one thing was almost finished, another would pop up. At least this one was fairly straightforward- as straightforward as a homicide victim's autopsy can be.

Jonathan had called in sick and Karen was on maternity leave, so she and Andrew were left with twice as much to do today. She tried to look at the bright side- overtime pay. Heaven knew she needed it- yesterday she'd received a notice that her rent was going up. Almost too far up.

Focus. Molly moved down, turned the stiff arms to see if they'd gotten any injuries. A few scratches and bruising on the left, just bruising on the right. She had just pressed the ballpoint pen's tip to the paper when her phone buzzed in her pocket. She jumped, dropping the pen on the cadaver's shoulder. "Sorry," she mumbled to the deceased, retrieving the pen and setting her clipboard down. The phone buzzed again. Who would be calling her at this hour? It was the middle of the day, all her friends (the few and extraordinary) were at work, Sherlock always texted, and anyone from work would page her. Carefully, she peeled off her right glove and dug that hand into her pocket.

She flipped the phone open with her thumb and peered at the caller ID: UNKNOWN NUMBER Molly sighed and hit the green button, then held it up to her ear. "Hello?"

((Please, someone.))