This is somehow my third contribution to the fandom for the Christmas season. And probably the one with the most OOC-ness... This was actually written by me to the cute MissMoustachio as an exchange to a Christmas fic she wrote to me as well :3 This was never intended to be published (hence the, uhh, slight OOC-ness...) but somehow I've come to like it, and I'd like to share it with ya'll, so here it is. I dunno if you'll like it, but hey, who doesn't like mistletoes? Once again, Merry Christmas! :DDD
"SHERLOCK! You have got to stop sneaking up on people!"
"I don't 'sneak'; sneaking is for amateur thieves."
"You're an amateur detective; that's close enough for me."
"Molly, you do realise the blatant difference between-"
"You 'steal' equipment from this lab, Sherlock; I'd call that thieving, you know."
Sherlock, with nothing to say to refute that fact, pouted at her, and Molly had to stomp down that feeling of wanting to pat his head to make him feel better. Instead, she forced herself to turn around and glare at her paperwork.
Once again, here was Sherlock bloody Holmes in her lab on one of the most important days in the calender - Christmas day. It was not that she disliked his presence, nor that she had anyone else to celebrate the occasion with, but she was annoyed because she had wanted to set that day aside to pamper herself as she knew she so deserved to indulge herself after a long hard day of work - which meant soaking in the tub while listening to soft Christmas tunes, and watching Christmas special programmes on the telly in her oversized but fluffy pink dressing robe and matching soft bunny slippers. But with him around, she could not see the appeal of an overtime.
"Sherlock, you need to know-"
"I need your help."
"-...ah, forget it." No matter how much she wanted to say 'no', she could never resist that wide-eyed, pseudo-innocent look he was giving her at that time.
"What do you need?"
"Just you."
Did she hear right? "Huh? What- what did you say?"
But he ignored her and flitted around the lab instead. After a minute of silence from the man, she sighed and went back to her work.
"Coffee?"
Molly started violently at that whispered word right into her ear 5 minutes later and she jerked forward in her seat while the other occupant in the room leaned back, shoving his hands into his trouser pockets.
"You- you didn't have to do that!"
"Coffee?" he repeated, throwing in a lopsided smile for added measure, and she just had to fulfill that request.
"Yes, I'll- I'll get it for you," she replied meekly and rushed out. She did not see the cheeky and playful smirk on his lips as a result.
"Umm, Sherlock? Coffee, black two sugars?" Molly called out 10 minutes later to a seemingly empty room.
"Down here." His voice came floating from somewhere obscure and she had to do her best to follow it before finding him, well-hidden, leaning against one of the chemical shelves in the lab.
"There you are!" She beamed at him and gingerly handed the steaming cup of coffee over to him.
Sherlock nodded his thanks and took a sip before putting down the cup on a nearby table.
"Why're you here?" she inquired, looking around her while feeling confused.
"It's Christmas day today, isn't it?" he asked, ignoring her question.
"Yes, it is," she replied, feeling a bit bitter that she had to go home late again tonight.
"You are aware of the mistletoe tradition, aren't you?"
Molly visibly froze at that and, slowly, she looked up at him. He, however, had his eyes somewhere above him instead. Following his gaze, her eyes slid further upwards and her mouth then literally hung open at what she was seeing.
A sprig of mistletoe.
She could not believe what she was seeing, and the only thought that she had was 'when had I ever hung a mistletoe at this corner of the lab?'. She felt the air shift and her eyes went down, only to notice that Sherlock had suddenly come closer to her.
Too close, in fact.
"Oh, Sh-Sherlock?" Molly said nervously and tried to take a step back, but her route was blocked by a steel table directly (and conveniently) behind her.
"Yes, Molly?" He said her name in barely above a whisper, and his low and deep voice sent shivers down her spine.
Not knowing what to do, since she was obviously trapped between a table and Sherlock, she could only blurt out what had popped up in her mind at that moment. "Is that really a mistletoe?"
"Astute observation, Molly," Sherlock chuckled lightly. He came closer to her and, leaning in, planted his hands on either side of her, effectively cocooning her with his lean body.
"Like I've asked earlier on, you do know the tradition of mistletoes, don't you?" he continued, talking slowly, eyes never once leaving her face for the whole time.
She gulped visibly and gave the barest of nods. He gave a small but sexy smirk and leaned in even closer. "Let us not break tradition, yes?"
Molly had wanted to reply to that; she was not sure what, but she definitely felt like she had to say something. But as soon as she had just opened her mouth, Sherlock pressed his lips to hers, shutting her up. She gave a slight whimper at the sudden action and stayed very still, unsure of what to do. His left hand left the table and began stroking her right arm up and down as he attempted to deepen the kiss, and she reluctantly melted into him not long after.
They went on for a few more seconds before they broke for air, and Sherlock rested his forehead against Molly's, taking in large gulps of air.
"That was...traditional..." she commented quietly, eyes tightly shut, not daring to believe that...whatever had happened had truly happened, and hoping against hope that it was not another one of her pathetic, seemingly real fantasies that always involved him.
The tentative hand on her right cheek convinced her that it was all, in fact, very real, and she hesitantly opened her eyes to come face-to-face with the bright blue orbs that were Sherlock's eyes. However, the blue parts were just rings around fully-blown pupils, she noticed. He smiled and swooped down once more to capture her lips, the thumb of the hand on her cheek slowly stroking her cheekbone.
"I an beginning to enjoy traditions," he mumbled against her mouth, and before he went for one more of the many kisses they would share that night, he whispered to her, looking directly into her chocolate brown eyes, "Merry Christmas, Molly Hooper."
As he began to kiss her much more fervently this time, Molly figured she would definitely not mind going home slightly late tonight.