They're singing 'deck the halls', but it's not like Christmas at all.

I remember when you were here and all the fun we had last year.

-Baby, Please Come Home

Molly was sipping on a warm cup of chai whilst typing up an essay to submit to another prestigious medical journal. She couldn't help but think about Sherlock, though. He was out there dismantling Moriarty's network on Christmas Eve. It just felt so unfair to him. Yes, he didn't show much enjoyment during the previous Christmas, but surely he'd rather be celebrating with his friends than be all alone and in danger.

Despite the cruel remarks he had made, Molly did have fun last year celebrating at 221B. She had no family left, so it was one of the best Christmases she had had in a long time. Carolers could be heard from outside, but she just couldn't get into the holiday spirit this year. At least she and Sherlock wouldn't actually be alone in being alone this year.

She became lost in her thoughts, thinking about the way they had parted. Unashamedly, she had cried when it was time for him to leave, not knowing whether he'd come back at all. Something shifted between them in that moment, as Sherlock had gathered her in his arms in an attempt to comfort her. She had told him that she'd miss him and he said the same of her. He assured her that he would be back; to not lose hope. And then he had kissed her. Truly kissed her. It hadn't been chaste, nor was it lingering. It had been tender and emotionally fueled.

Molly wasn't sure if it meant more to her than it did to him, but even now she could still feel the ghost of his kiss on her lips. More than likely, he did it as a gift for her; a thank you. She did not allow herself to hope for more than that. At least if he didn't come back, she would know the feeling of his kiss. She knew she mustn't think like that, but it was all she had left of him aside from his spare pajamas in the bottom drawer.

A knock on the door snapped her out of her thoughts and she got up to open the door to none other than Mycroft Holmes.

"I'm delivering this on behalf of my brother," he told her. "Merry Christmas, Miss Hooper."

"Thank you," she told him. Molly closed the door as he turned to walk away. It was a beautifully wrapped gift in icy blue paper with a bow on top. She knew Sherlock wasn't one to give gifts, but it must be important if he felt the need to send her one. Opening it up with care, she found a letter and a velvet pouch. She quickly unfolded the letter, needing to hear his words in his voice in her head.

Molly,

I hope you are well. I wanted to thank you again for helping me. A lot has been done but there is still more to do. Are you familiar with covalent bonds? Of course you are. Just as atoms become unstable when not sharing electrons, I am unstable without you. That probably didn't come out quite right. What I mean to say is that without you sharing your heart with me, I cannot function, which is why I choose to share my heart with you as well, even if it doesn't seem I have much of one to give. I hope you don't mind, but I had Mycroft's assistant tail you to figure out what you would like for Christmas. In a way, it is physical proof that I am giving you my heart. I miss you dearly. Merry Christmas, Molly Hooper.

Yours truly,

Sherlock

Her eyes filled up with tears at the words he had written especially for her. It was even written in his hand. Setting the letter aside, she opened the pouch and lifted out a beautiful silver necklace with a diamond heart pendant; the very one she was fawning over with Meena whilst shopping a couple weeks ago. Too bad it would be another year before she could snog the breath out of him.

It was November when the news of his return swept the nation. They had been solving crimes together all day and she was having fun with her best friend again. Another Christmas was approaching and pretty fairy lights already lit up the city. Molly wasn't sure why she was taken aback when Sherlock asked if she fancied some chips. Perhaps it was because she still couldn't quite wrap her head around the fact that he loved her.

"Moriarty slipped up. He made a mistake," he told her. "Because the one person he thought didn't matter at all to me was the one person that mattered the most." Those words had her heart pounding in her chest. His finger was suddenly tracing the chain around her neck and he lifted it slowly to reveal the pendant hidden beneath her jumper. "You're wearing it."

"Of course I am," she smiled. "I've worn it every day since receiving it. I never got to actually thank you for it."

"I am happy you like it," he replied. It was awkward for a split second until Molly spoke up again.

"So," she began, "I believe you said something about chips?"

"I did, didn't I?" he smirked.

"One last thing," she told him before tugging on the lapels of his coat and pressing her lips to his. He was surprised at first, but quickly reciprocated, happy that he hadn't missed his chance with her after all.