AN- Just a fluffy little fic for the Holiday season! Dedicated to my good friend Lady Corvidae. This is for putting up with me for all this time, darling. Hope you have fun with the cameos! Enjoy!

"No, absolutely not," John said, his voice nearly heated. Pausing outside the door, stack of files in her arms, Molly hesitated at the entrance to her lab. Were Sherlock and John quarreling again? She wouldn't want to interrupt them if they were. Sherlock had a tendency to strike out against everyone present when he was cross and she never particularly felt like being torn apart by the great Consulting Detective's deductions. While Sherlock had been unusually kind to her lately, she didn't want to jinx things. Yet the files in her arms were heavy and her limbs were just starting to tremble a bit. If she didn't get them to a counter soon she was in danger of dropping the whole pile and messing up the files Sherlock had just requested would make the man even crosser. She would just have to interrupt.

Toeing the door open, Molly bumped the door with her hip then her bum as she pushed through it, eyes on the unsteady pile. So caught up in the process of opening the door while not dropping anything, Molly jumped with a little squeak as John slapped his hand upon the counter and said, quite loudly, "Because it's Christmas! That's why!"

Papers flew everywhere, fluttering to the floor. Molly felt her face heat and she knew she was becoming quite flushed as Sherlock and John turned to look at her. "S-sorry," she muttered, stooping to quickly gather up the files.

"No, Molly. My fault. I'm sorry," John said, hurrying over. He knelt beside her, gathering up the papers and shot her a smile. "I shouldn't have yelled. You know how Sherlock can be though."

She did and yet somehow she didn't at the same time. There had been a time when Molly had thought she'd known Sherlock completely, when she thought that she had been able to see him and not the mask he wanted people to see, but that had been before. Before she'd helped him fake his death. Ever since then Sherlock had been, well, distant. There was a new wall between them and this time she couldn't see over it. That wasn't something to tell John though, not while Sherlock was there in any case, and so she just smiled tightly back at him and tried to quickly get the pages back into the correct order and in their proper folders.

Sighing dramatically, Sherlock pulled himself from his lab stool and came to hover over them both, hands in his coat pockets. "Simply stating that it's Christmas is not an adequate excuse, John," he said peevishly, brow furrowed and a pout dangerously close to forming. "Despite all of your assumptions about me, I do keep track of the days and so I am aware of the seasonal festivities occurring shortly. In all likelihood these robberies are only occurring due to the holiday season and shall cease as soon as the festivities are over. This may be our only opportunity to catch the thief."

"No Sherlock," John said firmly. He shoved a handful of papers into a folder so hard they crumpled and Molly winced, taking it from him quickly and trying to sort them out. Picking up the last paper John stood and glowered at the much taller man. "This is Lizzie's first Christmas. I'm not going overseas on some sort of wild goose chase and missing that."

"Why not?" Sherlock asked, the pout even closer to forming. His lip was starting to protrude, eyes going puppy dog soft. "It's not like the infant is even aware of the time of year, nor would she remember if you happened to pop off for a week or two."

"That's not the point!" John insisted hotly. "I'll know that I missed it and I'll never forgive myself for missing something like that. Mary will never forgive me for missing it either. Besides, I don't even know how to ski!"

Against her better judgement, Molly looked up from her files. "Ski?" she asked. Now there was something she'd never considered before. Sherlock in a tight ski suit, a pair of downhills on his shoulder and goggles atop his head, curls peeking out from under a hat as he offered her a hot cuppa cocoa. She felt herself go pink as both men looked at her and she desperately hoped that Sherlock wasn't deducing the way her mind had automatically gone. "Are you going skiing?" she asked, trying to keep her voice light.

"Sherlock was contacted to help catch a jewel thief robbing the slopes of the Swiss Alps blind," John said as Sherlock peered at her. At last the raven haired man looked away and she relaxed a bit, focusing on the ex-soldier a bit more closely. "Apparently some thief who calls himself 'Thousand Faces' has been sending out taunting notes warning of his upcoming thefts then absconding with the jewels no matter how many men the police send to guard them."

Scoffing loudly, Sherlock went back to his lab stool and slouched into it. "The police are idiots everywhere. If they'd contacted me earlier I could have had this case solved by now and there wouldn't be any of this nonsense about celebrating antique pagan rituals."

John shot him a look before turning back to Molly. "Ignore him. He's been like this all day ever since I said I wouldn't go."

"Elizabeth will never know the difference if you postpone your festivities until after the case is solved," Sherlock said from his stool.

"Yeah, but I still don't magically know how to ski all of a sudden."

"Oh I know how to ski," Molly said and instantly regretted it. Both men were looking at her again and she swallowed heavily, mentally cursing herself. She hadn't meant to say that at all, she'd just blurted it out and now suddenly Sherlock was staring at her like she was an insect on a pin. "Or, well, I used to," she quickly amended.

"Where did you learn how to ski?" Sherlock asked and then instantly answered his own question. "Family holidays spent abroad, of course. Yearly until circumstances changed and ended them."

What went unsaid was the car accident that had taken her Mother and Molly found herself surprisingly grateful that Sherlock had neglected to mention it. It was a little surprising that he hadn't, but then the detective did seem to be trying to be a bit more kind to people. She nodded, tentatively meeting Sherlock's eyes. "Yes I, ah, got rather good at it before the end actually. Not enough to leave the groomed slopes of course, but I was skiing the reds and some of the blacks by myself."

Staring at her for another long moment, Sherlock nodded abruptly. "Yes, excellent. It's decided then."

Molly blinked, brow furrowing. "What's been decided?" she asked as John sighed deeply and rubbed his brows.

"Sherlock…."

"You'll attend the case with me and operate as my assistant," Sherlock said, a smile crossing his lips. "I may have need for a pathologist on this trip."

"You're expecting that someone could be murdered?" Molly asked, frowning.

"Well, one can hope."

"Sherlock, this is a bit not good," John interjected, voice gone all firm again. "You just can't tell Molly that she's coming with you, you have to ask her first."

Sherlock sighed dramatically and rolled his eyes heavenward. "Fine," he growled. Turning towards Molly he stood abruptly strode forward, invading her space and seizing her hand in one of his own. He gazed down upon her with those piercing bright blue eyes and smiled at her softly, thumb caressing her knuckles. "Molly, would you be so kind to join me on an all-expense paid trip to the Swiss Alps to catch a jewel thief with a ridiculous name? I would appreciate it ever so much."

Heart pounding in her chest, Molly nodded once. "Y-yes. I… ah, I suppose…"

"Excellent," Sherlock said and, swooping down, pressed a kiss to her cheek. "I'll pick you up tomorrow promptly at ten. Pack lightly, I'll purchase whatever you need once we get there. Now if you'll excuse me." Popping his coat collar Sherlock smirked at her and speedily headed for the door as Molly gaped after him.

"W-Wait!" she managed to protest, rational thought coming back as Sherlock reached the door. "I'm scheduled to work over the holidays and Toby-"

"I'll take care of speaking with Stamford and I'm certain your friend Meena can care for your cat while we're gone," Sherlock said, and opened the door. He paused, looking back at her and gave her a wink. "I'll see you tomorrow, Molly."

Face scarlet and heart pounding, Molly looked to John who sighed again and shrugged uselessly. "I'll talk to him," he said, hurrying to follow Sherlock. "He can't just do things like this, demand that people jump to follow him and expect them to ask how high. I'll get you out of this, it's not right that he's dragging you along. Don't worry Molly."

Blinking, Molly touched her hand to her chest and shakily sat down as the door swung shut after John. Despite everything, despite all the history between them, Sherlock could still make her feel like a giddy school girl with a wink and a smile. She should have been revolted with herself and yet… An entire holiday with Sherlock? Alone? In the mountains? Her mind summoned crackling fires and fur rugs and she flushed scarlet before quickly tamping those thoughts down.

Sherlock had asked her on this case as an assistant and, probably, as a friend and so that is what she was going to be. No romantic fantasies, no expectations, and certainly no making him uncomfortable with her feelings she told herself firmly. They were coworkers. That's all they were and all they were going to be and, God help her, she was going to be the best goddamn coworker of all time. She'd take notes and help Sherlock with his deductions and stare as his bum as he skied down a wintry slope and…

Groaning, Molly buried her face in her hands. What had she gotten herself into?