Disclaimer: The following is a fan based work of fiction that combines elements from the anime Tokyo Ghoul and characters from the show, Sherlock. Neither of which belong to me, but to their respective owners. If you like what you're reading, be sure to leave a vote and a comment.

"So another ghoul related incident I'm guessing. Off to the crime scene then?" He asked. Sherlock simply pulled his jacket onto his body and pulled his phone out of one of the pockets, checking the time.

"Right now, no. Lestrade and Donovan are in a press conference with the media hounds and won't be finished until later. This case is being looked at by another detective inspector who I don't care to meet. So for the time being, we have the morning off". He said. Despite hearing this, John furrowed his brow at the sight of Sherlock's coat.

"So then why are you dressed to go out?" Asked John. Sherlock simply deposited his phone back into his pocket and looked back at the TV despite it's lack of sound. John was also dressed to go outside, but he was under the assumption that it was for the sake of a case.

"Because right now, I'm going off to St. Bart's to see if Molly has anymore corpses for me to look into". He said. With this in mind, John turned off the TV and moved to grab his own jacket. As he placed it on his shoulders, his flat mate stared at him quizzically. "What are you doing?" Asked Sherlock.

"Well, I'm going with you. Can't stay cooped up in here forever. Besides, I could use the exercise for my limp". He said. Sherlock knew that it'd be pointless arguing with the former soldier, so he turned on his heels, and made for the door to leave the flat, with John in tow. The taxi ride to St. Bart's felt longer than it should have, with a pregnant silence engulfing the car. Sherlock appeared to be within the confines of his mind palace, leaving John with his own thoughts. As the taxi stopped at a red light, John took the time to look out the window and really survey his surroundings.

A café that was bustling with business as people filled the inside and outside seats. A school that had an ocean of kids coming in, ready to start their day. And a grocery store that at was open for business. Even if the city was now a feeding ground for an entire species of ravenous beasts, John wanted to hold on to the fleeting idea that London was no better than it was before the ghouls appeared, thinking back to the conversation that he had with Sherlock, not to mention his time as a military doctor, even if they hardly seemed related. Anyone optimistic enough would argue that in a year, or so the ghouls would disappear from the earth, and be a story for the history books. But John didn't have the privilege of calling himself optimistic. Before long, the two of them made their way into St Barts. and straight down to the morgue to see Molly.

Walking down the long hallway, John took note of how many CCG officers were around, interviewing grieving families about their deceased kin. The aura that they carried about them was almost as intense as their dark trench coats. And especially the briefcases that they carried with them, no doubt containing their quinques. Just about the only thing that could kill a ghoul was the kagune of another ghoul, thus leading to the harvesting of ghoul corpses after they've been killed, for the soul purpose of detaching their weapons from their bodies, killing and harvesting other ghouls for their own kagunes, and repeating the cycle all over again. The corpses were just as messy as a human death, but so long as it was one more ghoul wiped off the earth, no one really cared. All it was, was further justification for Sherlock's previous statement about the cruelty that this world dishes out for both species. John was quick to come out of his reverie once he and Sherlock approached the elevator. Since the ride down was a short one, Sherlock choose now to speak.

"Can you not do that so loud, it's deafening". He said. John looked at him quizzically before he took a moment to catch on to what he was referring to. In the time that they've been flat mates, John managed to pick up on certain quirks and habits that Sherlock was accustomed to doing, no matter how unpredictable, or much of a high functioning sociopath he claimed to be. His favorite one was to comment on how loud John's thinking was, whatever that was supposed to mean. The more that it came up, the more John was able to call his flat mate out on it, just the same. This was one of those times. John rolled his eyes in exasperation before responding.

"Oh let me guess, am I thinking too loud for your fast paced brain?" The sarcasm that dripped off of his words did nothing to faze the consulting detective, but he still responded to John, with raised eyebrows.

"Yes. Good work, John". Before John could find the words to respond, the bell above them chimed and elevator doors came open on their floor. Naturally Sherlock was the first one to exit the leave it, with John in tow. As soon as they entered the morgue, the consulting detective immediately took notice of the three lifeless corpses that laid on individual slabs, completely covered by the body bags, not even looking at Molly who'd just finished putting away a bone saw. The longing look that was in her eyes went unnoticed by Sherlock, but it didn't stop her from trying to start a conversation.

"Sherlock, hi. I wasn't expecting you until later on this week. Everything okay?" Sherlock moved around the morgue, looking at various tools, and chemicals that were neatly organized, not even looking in her direction. Meanwhile, John stayed glued to one spot. When he finally acknowledged her, it was for the sake of the motionless carcasses. He pointed to them before looking over at Molly.

"The bodies, how fresh are they since they've been taken from the crime scene?" Almost immediately, Molly came over to the first corpse to the left, and pulled back the zipper for Sherlock to examine it further.

"About 48 hours. I didn't do much too much to it, knowing that you'd want to take the first stab". The smile that she wore was meant to be reassuring, but Sherlock just gave her another sideways glance and took a magnifying glass to the corpse. The head and neck were virtually unharmed, if not caked in a bit of dried blood, but looking further down, he could see the carnage that befell the chest, sternum, and stomach. The skin had been ripped open and pulled apart in a messy attempt to reach the lungs heart, and various other organs. Which was done successfully. The ribcage had been all but decimated, save for a few broken shards. Among the organs that were gone were the large and small intestines, liver, pancreas, and half of the heart.

When he pulled the bag back further, Sherlock noticed that the entire left arm was also missing. However, the legs were still intact. Taking the magnifying glass to the shoulder area where the arm was missing, Sherlock noticed the teeth marks that littered the skin. While this was made to look like an animal attack, the human imprints that showed up were painfully obvious to the consulting detective. John stayed where he was, giving Sherlock the space he needed to work. He noticed Molly on the other side of the morgue, fiddling with something that didn't actually need her attention, but served as a distraction to not look longingly at Sherlock. When the consulting detective finally addressed her again, she must have jumped at least three feet in the air.

"Did you identify them yet?" He asked. Molly practically fast walked over to where he was, but no before she picked a clipboard from off of a table and handed it to Sherlock, who lowered the magnifying glass.

"All three of them were local college students. Toxicology report showed heavy traces of alcohol in their bloodstreams. Looks like they were powerless to fight their way out of this one". That sentence alone had both John and Sherlock raising their eyebrows in irony. But Sherlock was the one to make a comment out of it.

"Them and everyone else in London. What else?" He asked. Molly stayed glued to her spot, but occasionally bounced on the toes of her feet.

"Well nothing important. Ordinary kids, college students, never hurt anyone a day in their lives. But apparently that didn't matter to whatever ghoul did this". She finished solemnly. Sherlock remained unfazed by her words, whilst continuing to look over the clipboard and glancing back at the bodies.

"And in due time, that ghoul's reason for doing this isn't going to matter to the investigator who makes a new quinque out of him". He said. John tried, but failed to suppress the chuckle that escaped him. Molly gave a brief shrug of her shoulders, and took a look at the bodies in wonder.

"I don't know. Maybe there was a tiny bit of reason behind it. I mean take away the menacing red eyes, the abnormal predatory organ, and ghouls can't be that different from humans, right? All doing what we have to do to stay alive in a world with a thousand ways to die, am I right?" Her final words were coupled with a humorous smile and a chuckle that was meant to be followed by one from John, and maybe even one from Sherlock, God willing. But all it got her were odd glances from both men, as if she'd sprouted a kagune of her own. And even more so, a disapproving look from Sherlock.

"For all your skills as a pathologist Molly, your sense of humor is severely lacking. Don't make jokes. It doesn't suit you." He said. She could only hang her head in shame, as Sherlock carelessly tossed the clip board on top of the body. Of all the times that John could have given a helping hand to the situation now was definitely a great one.

"Is there anything else you wanted to show us, Molly?" He asked, while placing a gentle palm on her shoulder. As quickly as her sadness had come, it was masked by joy, and contentment.

"No that's pretty much it. I'll keep in touch if anything does come up." She said. John nodded his head, and directed his attention to his flat mate, who was playing with the tag tied to one of the dead men's feet.

"When you're ready, Sherlock, I know a place where we can stop for some breakfast". Sherlock ignored him for another minute before, proceeding to zip up the bag, and make his way out the door, without even a sideways' glance at Molly, who watched him leave out of her peripheral vision. John took this opportunity to speak for himself and Sherlock, and gave her a warm smile.

"Thanks for your help Molly, as always...and if it's any consolation, I get where you're coming from with the whole ghoul situation". He said. She flashed a warm smile of her own, feeling a slight boost of confidence.

"It's no trouble at all, doctor. I only wish Sherlock could see it the way we do". John fell silent, opting not to mention the fright that Sherlock had in encountering his first ghoul, and patted Molly on the shoulder one last time, before giving a final goodbye, and exiting the morgue.