Hi everyone. I felt slightly inclined to write a little Christmas themed Sherlock fanfic. It sort of goes along with my other story, "Someone Missed" (which hasn't been updated in a while) or at least takes place in that story line. I hope you enjoy this little Christmas drabble, and please tell me what you think. Have a lovely Christmas, or whatever holiday you choose to celebrate. And please, have a wonderful New Year (I know the UK will.) :) Remember, us Americans do not need spoilers, but if you feel so inclined, at least tag them online please. I don't own BBC Sherlock, but boy if I did...

Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas

"Have yourself, a merry little Christmas. Let your heart be light…" Molly hummed softly to herself by the window, wearing a very bright red Christmas jumper, her hair down and wavy, house slippers on to complete the look of pure seasonal comfort. She watched the snow fall slowly, softly, taking her to a completely different place. A different time. She remembered being young, walking through the snow holding her father's hand. She smiled at the memory, but was saddened by it at the same time. Molly only seemed to know sadness. Her life was surrounded by it, made up by the stuff. Her mother died when she was young, she barely had memories of her. Her father died only few years ago.

They had been a team, but for a long time all she could remember was his being sick. He was a strong man, having raised her by himself since his wife's death. She supposed that's where she got her strength from. For all she didn't look it, Molly is in fact a very strong woman. Not many people saw far enough past the mousy exterior to see the strength that lie beneath. Mr. Hooper tried to make every Christmas special, just for the two of them. He would make horrible biscuits, and she'd happily eat them, knowing that he had tried his best. They'd decorate a small little tree, just enough for 4 to 6 gifts, 2 to 3 for each from the other. They would always open one on Christmas Eve, making sure to save the best for Christmas Day.

She loved Christmas time with her father. They'd always travel later in the day, to go visit the grandparents and have a proper Christmas feast, full with crackers and bad jokes to follow. She enjoyed it, spending time with granddad especially, but that time with just her father was always special. She tried not to cry when she thought of it, but now she spent her Christmases alone. That was until that Christmas at 221B. She hadn't wanted to go see her extended family that Christmas, not that she wouldn't have been happy to see them, but she just didn't feel up to it.

Now things were entirely different. Sherlock was "dead", and here she was staring out the window, with Sherlock Holmes, quite alive, sitting there in the living room. Mrs. Hudson had invited her to 221B for a little Christmas dinner, John would be there however reluctantly, she wasn't sure if Lestrade would be, never knew if he was with his wife or not. She knew that she would be welcome, but even though he wouldn't admit it, she knew that it would upset Sherlock if she went. He might follow her, and spy on them. He missed John and Mrs. Hudson. Molly knew this, because he still looked sad when he thought she wasn't looking. He didn't realize that he did it. 'They never do', she thought.

She was determined to still enjoy this Christmas, however sad it would be. She would go to Mrs. Hudson's Christmas dinner, and stay for an hour or two, and then she would make something at her little apartment. She didn't care if Sherlock found it sentimental. She wasn't sure if she was doing it for him anyway.

"Molly, please." Sherlock stated rather than asked while he held his palms together under his chin. He was sitting in a chair, legs crossed, arms balanced on the arm rests. He wore his normal pajama set and house robe, having grown accustomed to living at Molly's little apartment.

"Hmm?" she asked, still lost in her memories.

"Humming, it's annoying." He said, halfway down the stairs from his mind palace.

"Sorry, it's just…"

"Just what, Molly?" he sounded as if he was on the verge of anger.

"It's snowing. I like to hum carols when it snows." She said.

"Sentiment." Sherlock scoffed.

"Yes, sentiment, Sherlock. I know you don't care for it, but I do." She had learned to stand her ground after having lived with him for a few months.

"But it's so boring. Everyone caring about one day out of the year, as if it's any more important than the others. It's pure sentiment, and not worth my time."

"Well there are religious reasons for the holiday, Sherlock. But yes, people do care about this day more than the others. It's a day where one can show the people in their lives how much they care for them, and give them something as proof of it. I know that's just more sentiment, but it's the truth of it." She had crossed her arms and walked to the other side of the room.

"Boring." Sherlock said, eyes closed.

"Whatever Sherlock. Why is it that you hate sentiment so much anyway?" she asked.

"It's a chemical defect, and it doesn't make a difference. So why should I care?"

"You cared enough for John and Mrs. Hudson, and Lestrade to fake your death. Is that not sentiment?" she asked, standing behind his chair now. She felt confidant, but there was always a bit of nervousness that she felt whenever she confronted Sherlock. She was always nervous about his reactions, never knowing when he might react with anger.

He relaxed his body and put a hand over his eyes.

"Don't remind me Molly. I did it to try and bring down Moriarty's network properly. It's not sentiment, it's protection."

"No it's not Sherlock, and you know it. You can't hide from me. You know that I can see you Sherlock, you still look sad when you think I'm not looking. You miss your old life. Even for you Sherlock, this time of year if rough, it brings back too many memories. Even you can feel. You're still human you know. No matter how much you try to deny it or disprove it. The great Sherlock Holmes is human, and can feel."

"Yes Molly, I can feel. Too much in fact! Too much that I choose to ignore it and drown it out. If I put it away in my mind palace then I can function properly and focus on what really matters!" He stood up and faced her now.

"But what if sentiment is in fact what really matters? What then?" She moved from behind the chair.

"It doesn't matter Molly! It hasn't helped me! John's miserable, Mrs. Hudson doesn't know what to do; the cases at Scotland Yard are piling up! I'm splattered all over the newspapers and everyone thinks I'm a fraud! Moriarty's winning right now Molly! Sentiment hasn't helped me! It never has and it never will!"

"Sherlock… I know it's been hard, but you keep forgetting that I'm here for you. Whatever you need." She said, arms still crossed. "I know you choose to ignore it, but maybe this year it might be alright to try and enjoy a bit of Christmas, eh? I could make us some mince pies, put a little cheerful music on. If not for you, then do it for me Sherlock. It's the least you could do."

"You're right Molly. It is the least I could do, but I just don't feel like being cheerful. Not while Moriarty's network is still out there, working, searching. Until I know that everyone is safe, I can't even begin to try and think about enjoying myself."

"Not even for me?" she asked, slightly upset that even for her, the woman who risked everything to help him, he wouldn't oblige in the smallest of ways by pretending to enjoy a sentimental holiday with her.

"Molly…" Sherlock started.

"No, it's fine." She began to walk away, she knew it would have been a waste of her time.

"Molly." He said after her.

"It's fine Sherlock." She wiped away a tear as she walked into the kitchen, intent on busying herself with making some tea. "I know you don't care, so don't pretend." She said, filling the kettle. She set it on the stove.

"Molly." She heard his voice directly behind her. She jumped slightly, but immediately relaxed knowing that he wouldn't hurt her.

"What Sherlock?" she asked, still not facing him.

Her body tensed as she felt his arms wrap around her. She felt his breath as he nuzzled into her neck. "I do care Molly. I care too much. I care too much about John, about Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, and even Mycroft, however much I hate to admit that. And I care too much about you Molly Hooper."

She relaxed into his body, and wrapped her hands and arms over his. "Then why is my asking you to celebrate Christmas with me too much to ask?"

"It isn't, and I'm being selfish, I know. I've lived with you long enough to know that, but I just don't feel that I can celebrate it. I would be happy to spend the holiday with you, Molly Hooper, but right now, I can't celebrate anything while knowing that everyone I care too much about to let them see it, isn't safe. I need to know that they are safe, like you are."

"Like me?" she asked, turning around in his arms.

"Like you. I have you right here in my arms, I know that you are safe because I see you every day, and thankfully Moriarty failed to notice how important you are to me. You do count. However he didn't see that. Until I know that they can't be hurt, I won't be able to rest, much less pretend to celebrate anything."

"But you could pretend, just for me. At least wear the paper hat."

"Molly." Sherlock stated sternly.

"Sherlock." She countered. He hated to admit it, but he loved that about her. She had grown confidant, and he liked seeing this side of Molly. He loved to manipulate her, but it was nice to see her standing up for herself as well.

"Fine." He rested his forehead to hers. "I'll pretend to celebrate Christmas with you Molly, but please don't make me wear the hat."

"We'll see." She whispered. "We'll have ourselves a merry little Christmas Sherlock, and I'll bring back news of John and Mrs. Hudson, and it will be okay. By this time next year, you'll have taken down Moriarty's network and will be back in 221B playing the violin like always, and things will be back to normal hopefully. It will be better Sherlock, it'll just take time."

"I wish it didn't. I wish I didn't have to hide. I wish I wasn't becoming so…sentimental."

"Sentiment isn't always a bad thing Sherlock, sometimes it's okay to show that you care. It lets the people you care about know that you are in fact human, and do appreciate them."

He rested a hand on her cheek, rubbing his thumb back and forth. "I appreciate you Molly Hooper. Everything that you've done. I know I don't always show it. I know that it isn't normal for me to do so."

"This is a rare moment Sherlock, I'm surprised you're being so unlike yourself. Maybe it's because you bottle it all up so much of the time."

"Perhaps, but I think it's more because I feel comfortable around you. I feel safe with you. I miss my life at Baker Street, but I don't dislike this life with you. If only I wasn't in hiding."

"You don't have to hide with me Sherlock, I hope you know that." She searched his eyes, hoping to find something.

"I do know that, it's just not like myself to show this much sentiment. It's unnerving."

"It's alright Sherlock. It's almost Christmas, it's okay to be sentimental."

"No it's not. It's too…normal."

"Sherlock… I thought we just discussed this, I know that you're human, you can stop trying to hide it from me." She smiled, beginning to hear the kettle boil. "Come on, tomorrow's Christmas. At least you still get to spend it with someone, instead of with some appalling carolers down at the morgue. You know they can't carry a tune." He gave her a stern look. "Sorry, I forgot, I'm not supposed to try and make jokes." She bit her lip. "Merry Christmas?"

Sherlock sighed. "Merry Christmas Molly Hooper."