DISCLAIMER: Thank you, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Thank you, BBC. I own nothing.
Basil
»It is absolutely preposterous!"
Mary was holding back her laugh at the sight before her. John was sitting on the sofa, seemingly unaffected with the scene, but she knew him better than anyone. She could tell, by the alignment of the wrinkles on his forehead, that he was barely containing his laughter.
"Oh dear, why are you so negative? Mary and John did it; I don't see why you can't."
Mrs Hudson, God bless her, was standing behind Molly and Sherlock, holding up a branch of mistletoe. Molly Hooper was blushing so hard her face was the same colour as the bow tying the unwanted herb.
"Do you know that mistletoe was a key ingredient in a Celtic pagan ritual that included climbing up an oak tree, burning down a bunch of mistletoe and sacrificing two white bulls, all in order to cure presumed infertility?"
Mary chuckled slightly.
"Oh, hush dear. It's a Christmas custom that if two people are caught under the mistletoe they have to kiss!"
John was shaking slightly, still not looking up from his paper. Sherlock looked positively livid, and then in one brief second he put his lips on Molly's cheek and gave her a peck.
Mary thought the poor girl would faint. Sherlock moved away from Molly and hissed down at his landlady and occasionally, housekeeper.
"Next time, Mrs Hudson, please, put up something a bit less pagan – basil, perhaps."