Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock.

Lestrade was surprised when he got the text to come to 221B Baker Street for Christmas. Normally, he would have been with his family at this time, watching old Christmas classics by the fireplace. That wasn't the case this year. Him and his wife had been having some problems, but he didn't think it would get to the point that he'd be spending his holiday with this ragtag bunch. At least being with good company would get his mind off of everything.

He went up the steps to 221B, greeted with a sign under the door knocker in Sherlock's elegant handwriting:

Let yourself in.

The smell of gingerbread cookies and mulled wine wafted down the stairwell. "Silent Night" on the violin floated through the air as he made his way into Sherlock and John's flat. Everyone was quietly talking amongst each other as Sherlock played his violin. Lestrade was surprised at how good he was; he heard from Mycroft that when he played, it was like descending on earth to unleash their wrath. He suspected that Mycroft only said it due to their sibling rivalry.

Everyone greeted Lestrade with cheers and hugs, with Mrs. Hudson offering a goblet of mulled wine. He took it gladly, offering a toast to good friends and good times. They toasted and drank. Mrs. Hudson made a damn good mulled wine, he thought. It provided a sense of a safe haven from the blustery wind battering against the window. He chatted with John, sharing giggles at the childish nature of him and Sherlock while in Buckingham Palace. His suspicions were confirmed: this dynamic duo really were 5-year-olds in adult bodies.

A quick blast of air indicated that someone else had arrived. It was Molly. Lestrade had only talked to her while they were on the job, so to be outside of the office was a little odd. Frankly, being with everyone outside of work was a little odd, but pleasant. But nonetheless, the first thing that he noticed was that her hair was down, a nice change from her usual ponytail or side bun. He wasn't prepared for when she took off her coat.

Staring was putting it politely. No doubt, she was pretty, but she was looking absolutely gorgeous. It took a lot of effort for him to pick his jaw off the floor because he was blown away. Her black dress hugged her in all the right places as she smoothed down the front of it with a shy smile. The silver trim along the top hem sparkled, drawing attention to her elegant neckline. It also looked nice with the festive bow in her hair. Those lab coats that she wore did no justice for her. Granted she has to wear them since she's in a morgue, but now he would never look at her as just an average woman again. He kept that in mind as he tried to ignore Sherlock's snide comments that continued to kill the holiday mood.

She turned around to start chatting with him as he was about to tell her how beautiful she looked, but Sherlock had to ruin it. As he tore her apart, Lestrade looked around at everyone else. It was clear that they were all staring daggers at him, with John throwing the most. He had to fight the urge to snap at him in his flow of deductions. Unfortunately, he had never been good at getting a word in anyway. His heart broke as he saw the look on her face; it was like kicking a new puppy. Molly called him out on being an asshole to her after he saw her gift to him. His apology (Lestrade didn't think he was capable of giving one) was sincere and topping it with a kiss on the cheek. The erotic moan text alert quickly changed the mood in the room as everyone snickered. John pointed out that that the count was up in the 50s. Lestrade, like everyone else who had eyes, suspected that the two, if they weren't in love, at least loved each other. No flatmate would keep ever keep track of text alerts. It was clear that John was jealous of his best friend forging a connection with a woman, particularly THE woman. Sherlock approached the mantlepiece and froze at the box on top. He quickly disappeared into his room. Naturally, John followed a few minutes later.

Molly leaned on the counter, idly swirling her glass. Lestrade joined her, silent for a few moments.

"Great party, huh?" He said.

She surprised him by snorting. "Just peachy." She gave him a sidelong glance and quirked a half-smile.

"He doesn't understand that what you've done is completely normal for women. It shouldn't be viewed in a bad way. I think that every woman deserves to look and feel beautiful whenever they want without it having to have negative implications." He meant every word, not only for her sake, but for women everywhere. Thanks to his teenage daughter who was a budding feminist combined with his already strong moral values, he had gained a whole new respect for women.

Molly nodded before her eyes popped and her mouth formed a perfect O. She turned to him and said, "You really think I look beautiful?"

"Of course. I was going to tell you before that git had ruin everything. But yes, you look stunningly beautiful this evening, Molly."

Her face flushed and not just because of the wine. "Well, thank you! You know, no one's ever told me that."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I don't exactly have a great track record with boyfriends."

"I'm sure you'll find someone."

"Merry Christmas, Lestrade."

"Merry Christmas, Molly."

She gave him a peck on the cheek and a small smile, one that reached her eyes. Lestrade grinned. The rest of the evening they talked about everything, getting in more than a few good laughs.

He gave her a big bear hug before they parted ways back to their homes. Molly walked back to her flat feeling like she really had a friend in Lestrade. She hadn't had someone to confide in since she found out who Jim really was, so this was a nice change of pace.

Lestrade was glad to have perked Molly up. It wasn't often that she was down since she always trying to be positive about everything. With her being surrounded by dead bodies all day long, he was happy to be able to call himself her friend.