The body was recovered from the rubble at the pool, and one of her coworkers went ahead with the autopsy before Molly got back from her personal leave. She supposed it was their way of being nice, so she didn't say anything. She never did say anything when she was angry.
Most of the remains were still in the lab in one place or another, waiting to be dissected by students. They'd be pitched eventually, of course, and Molly thought the word "Biohazard" on the bins could hardly be more appropriate. In retrospect, that was exactly what Jim had been.
But there were odd bits around that made her wince. A hand, for one, missing two of the distal phalanges and cut here and there with small bits of shrapnel, but still with its familiar nailbeds and the freckle on the back of the thumb. She remembered the pads of those fingers, tracing up the sides of her waist as Jim kissed her, very softly and slow.
It couldn't actually do any harm for her to take it home. Molly put the hand in her freezer while she was trying to decide what to do with it.
The brain was another part she couldn't bear to have thrown away. There was a little percussive damage, but it was mostly intact. Molly had bought an old-fashioned glass specimen jar a few months ago on eBay.
She presented it to Sherlock with a large red bow.