…poor title. I know… Well, I do believe this had become too long, and had tons of useless information, but hey, it's the season of giving; time to give a longer fic, compared to my kid!lock Christmas special :P
"So?"
"I like that one."
"Well, I don't; this one looks nicer."
"Greg, that colour sucks."
"But we always use gold, John; it's becoming too predictable."
"Now you're sounding like Sherlock."
"I heard that, and that sounded like an insult!" Sherlock shouted to the two boys from across the school hall. He was, however, ignored.
"Look, purple is different," Greg continued on, dangling a purple-coloured ornament by its hook and swinging it right in front of John's face.
"Purple is boring," the other boy retorted.
"Now you sound like Sherlock."
"That also sounded like an insult to me!" Sherlock interjected, but again, none of the boys paid any mind to him.
"How about red?" Molly interrupted as she came closer to John and Greg and showed them the red ornament.
"I dunno…" John frowned in disapproval.
"But it's a traditional colour, you know; how can we have Christmas without the colour red?" she reasoned, flashing a sweet smile at both the older boys.
"Molly's got a good point, however," Greg voiced out after a minute of deliberation.
"Okay, then: red and gold it is," John announced with finality, but was soon cut short by Greg, who countered with, "No: red and purple."
"Red and purple don't go together, Greg!"
"Yes it does; it's time to be different!"
"I don't care about being 'different'; I want a traditional Christmas tree, and we can't have that if there're no golden balls!"
"Look, Greg, John," Molly cut in, bringing her hands up to stop them from furthering their petty argument, "it actually wouldn't hurt to have all three colours on the tree, would it? Red, purple and gold. And maybe silver, since we have some of those. It'll look much colourful, and prettier, in my opinion."
John and Greg looked at each other, internally considering her proposal. Finally, after 2 minutes of further discussion, both teens agreed on all four colours to be put up on the Christmas tree.
"You certainly are smart in compromisation, Molly," John commented, giving her a grateful smile for resolving their mini-conflict. "Sherlock was horrible at it during that time Greg and I couldn't decide on a present for dear teacher Mrs Hudson."
"Yeah," Greg chipped in, agreeing with him. "We were deciding on either large notebooks for her to write on or a nice Christmas jumper. Sherlock had gone for a skull, which was dumb actually."
"I'm still here," Sherlock hissed in response and made his way to the three of them, but, once more, was not taken notice of.
"He said she might need the company," Greg went on, smirking at the memory.
"She does need the company, doesn't she?! She's always alone at home after work since her husband's always working from late night to morning. Don't lonely people require a skull for company?"
"That's what he said," John nudged at the grey-haired teen, and both burst out laughing while Sherlock felt his face grow hot with surpressed irritation and slight anger.
"John Hamish Watson. Greg Lestrade."
Molly said both their full names with such authority that both young men literally straightened themselves up to attention. Boy did they knew, from previous experiences, that it was never a good idea to go against her whenever she used her commanding voice.
"That wasn't kind," she continued in her stern tone of a voice.
"Sorry, ma'am," John replied submissively.
"Sorry, Sherlock," Greg apologised for the both of them to him, who scowled at them.
Molly then clapped her hands together, all traces of a commanding officer gone, to be replaced with her usual cheery demeanor. "Alright, then - now that's done, let's decorate the tree!"
"Boring and tedious," Sherlock instantly blurted out, rolling his eyes, but stopped short when he came face-to-face with her cold hard glare.
He quickly amended what he said in a fake jubilant voice with an equally fake and ridiculous smile. "I mean, yes - let us decorate that tree!"
"My god, you're useless."
"Oh, shuddup, Sherlock. Not like you can do any better."
"You just watch me."
Ten minutes later found the curly black haired teen tangled up in white sparkly garlands as well.
Molly climbed up the short flight of stairs to the school stage, giggling about some things with Sarah and Sally beside her. All three girls discussed about the special Christmas performance that would happen in a few hours' time, and they were certainly excited about it.
Sally held up a hand to stop their conversation 3 seconds later and, with her other hand, indicated to the three now squabbling teenagers right in front of them. She, Sarah and Molly took a few moments to listen to what they were up to now.
"You've hung that last ornament, Sherlock; now let me do that!"
"No, Greg; you've done enough for the garlands hanging. I'll do it."
"I could do it," came a third male voice.
"No way, John," Greg disagreed, shaking his head to emphasise his answer. "You're too short."
John glared at him. "You can carry me up there, you know."
"Oh, I'm sorry; you're too short, and too heavy."
"Wait, are you saying I'm fa-"
"Okay, okay - what is going on here?" Sally intervened once she noticed that these 6-year-old-stuck-in-16-year-old-body males were never going to reach a compromise.
"The star at the top of the tree - I believe someone has to put it up," Sherlock briefly explained, and she nodded in understanding.
"It's easy to resolve this, uh, situation. Molly, you go up then; you're the lightest among us all," she said, pointing at said girl and then up at the tree.
"In case you haven't noticed, Sally, I'm as short as John," Molly replied, and John winced at the indirect description of him.
"Not a problem, Molly; we do have the tallest guy in class to help you out anyway," Sarah said, smirking at her.
"Tallest guy?" Molly echoed, puzzled.
"Yeah - Sherlock."
She felt her face heating up as Sherlock glowered at Sarah, while Greg frowned and went over to stand beside the teen, to ascertain if he was, in fact, the tallest (John knew all too well he had lost that title without competition). And he was, apparently.
Sarah went on, purposefully ignoring a certain blushing Molly Hooper (and she was secretly taking pleasure from it at the same time) and the intense glare from Sherlock. "Sherlock will be able to carry you up, I'm sure. I've seen him carry more than 22lbs of weight for more times than I could remember."
"Sarah, we need to go, remember?" Sally suddenly interrupted. "Mr Stamford had said he wanted to see us about the performance."
"Oh yes!" Sarah answered, and she turned to her friends to wave goodbye. "Merry Christmas, then!"
"Greg, since you're the second tallest," John addressed him after both girls had left, "help me out with the streamers?"
"We'll need a ladder for you, though, short guy," Greg teased, and was punched hard on the shoulder as a result.
"We'll be off now, Molly, Sherlock," he added, saying it to the both of them.
Once John, Greg, Sally and Sarah had all left the school hall, it was just Molly and Sherlock left, the former having her head bowed down and face flushing crimson red while the latter frowned up at the green (and highly artificial) medium-sized tree. After calming herself down, Molly looked up as well, and furrowed her brows at a sudden thought.
"Do not doubt that I cannot get you high up there," Sherlock answered her thoughts languidly, not even taking a glance at her.
Surprised that he had managed to read her mind, she was about to question him on how he knew, but stopped herself just in time; this was Sherlock Holmes they were talking about. Instead, she nodded and her eyes roved around the stage to find that golden star to be placed at the very tip of the school's Christmas tree. She spotted it, went to pick it up, and walked back to where the only other teen was at.
"Ready?"
The question caught the poor girl terribly off-guard and she stared wide-eyed at the male beside her. He had gotten down on his knees and was looking slightly upwards at her.
"Wha-what 'ready'?" she asked nervously.
He gave her his best 'really?' look, then gave in and explained to her his plan. "Look, Molly - 'ready' means you sitting here on my shoulder," he patted his right shoulder with his left hand, "and I standing up. I have calculated and it would be possible for you to reach over and put that useless star at the very top if we do this way."
"I- I sit on your shoulder?" she repeated, very unsure of the idea.
"Either that, or I carry you up by the hip, although I admit I will not be very good at it."
"No, no! Sh-shoulder's fine! It's- that's fine…"
Sherlock sighed frustratedly at her (never-ending but adorable) blushing face and, still down on his knees, extended a hand to her direction. "Here. You know we have not much time left. Unless you want to be seen by that four people we call 'friends' on my shoulder, then we better hurry up."
Molly immediately conceded and took his hand. It actually felt warmer than she had initially thought as she was gently led towards him. He guided her to his shoulder, where she awkwardly and shyly sat, and after making sure she was secure, he got up.
She was definitely lighter than he had expected and he had managed to carry her up with ease. Wobbling a little when he stood on both feet, he instinctively brought his right hand up to hold the girl steady by the hip. He, of course, did not see the effebt of his unconscious action on her face.
Getting over whatever she was feeling, Molly took a deep breath in and, seeing the tip of the tree, stretched her hands out with the star. She finally managed to place it right after more than 4 times and she looked down to Sherlock, who was looking intently up at her, with a small smile. "Done."
He nodded his understanding and, taking a few steps back from the tree, lowered himself carefully. She hopped off and smoothed her school skirt while he rolled his shoulder, which was aching slightly.
"Is your shoulder okay?" she enquired hesitantly, watching him roll it backwards.
"It's fine," was his curt reply.
"Oh. Okay…"
Molly took her gaze off him and studied the end result of their efforts on the tree instead. To her, it looked extravagant, but she was worried that they had gone a little overboard with the decorations. "What do you think?" she asked the boy beside her, gesturing to the colourful tree.
"Outrageously atrocious; a sore to the eyes; the worst decorated tree of the century."
"What?"
"In my honest opinion, that. From a third person's point-of-view, however, it should look decent enough."
"…ah."
Sherlock, after one final shoulder roll, cracked his knuckles while turning to face her. "Now what?"
Knowing they had nothing else to do then, she shrugged. "Umm, now we wait?"
Sherlock turned his head to his right and looked out to the other end of the school hall -where the glass doors of the entrances were-, mentally estimating how much time Greg and John would need to take to be back judging by their usual walking speed and the weight of the streamers and ladder that would undoubtly slow them down. With nothing to do (and not daring to stare at his oddly angled yet handsome face for the remaining of the waiting time), Molly fidgeted with her fingers, when she remembered something. Looking up to her classmate, she figured now was as good a time as there would ever be (since there was nobody there besides them, giving it the sense of privacy as well) and softly said to him, "Uh, Sherlock, I- I've brought you a…Christmas gift…"
Slightly startling at her sudden voice in the heavy silence, he had wanted to tell her to not start a conversation, but what she had said made him bite his tongue. Instead he cautiously replied, narrowing his eyes at her suspiciously. "Why?"
She frowned in response. "Huh? What do you mean 'why'? It's the Christmas season; don't you give Christmas gifts on…Christmas?"
"Not me, I don't."
"Oh…" Her voice showed traces of hidden disappointment.
Before she could say anything else, John and Greg came ambling through the glass doors. "Hey, tallest guy - a hand here?!"
Sherlock rolled his eyes at their struggle and went to help them out, and both he and Molly temporarily forgot about their chat.
"Get a move on, Molly! Why are you so slow?!"
"Ah! Just- just be patient, Sarah?! I still need- I forgot something here! Sally, get Sarah out; she's distracting me!"
"I'm distracting you?!"
"Okay, okay! Sarah, move out," Sally chuckled under her breath at Sarah's mock baffled expression before maneuvering them out of the classroom.
"Molly, we'll wait by the school gate!" she called out to their brown-haired friend, who shouted back an 'okay!'.
Molly continued hunting for her water bottle for an additional 7 minutes before finally finding it wedged between two stacks of textbooks in the corner of the room. She took a moment to puzzle at how it could have possibly gotten there (she suspected it was a prank by Greg and Sally; both were notorious at them) but shrugged it off and sighed with relief instead. She twirled around, and screamed at the silhouette behind her.
"Molly," the deep voice rumbled out a reply to that loud sound.
"God, Sherlock!" she panted out of shock and took in gulps of much-needed air into her lungs. "You've- you've got to stop doing that!"
"Doing what?"
"That appearing out of nowhere and scaring the bejezus out of people!"
"If it's any comfort, you won't be suspectible to heart attacks easily at this young an age."
"SHERLOCK."
He shrugged, obviously confident of his answer and was not exactly sure why it could be wrong. He then turned to her in a sober manner, and Molly thought she could see him being a little…hesitant and shy?
"Y-yes, Sherlock?" she proded gently.
After a few seconds of silence, he looked directly down at her. "You have a…gift for me, you said…?"
She stared at him blankly for awhile before remembering that she did and, snapping to attention, immediately rushed out, "Oh, yes, yes! I do! You, uh…you want it?"
"It's Christmas, isn't it? I've been led to believe by a certain someone that it's the season of giving."
Molly bit her bottom lip to (poorly) hide a smile as she reached into her sling bag that was already slung over her shoulder and took out a carefully wrapped red present topped with a small silver bow at one of its corners. "Here - Merry Christmas," she beamed, handing it to him politely with both her small hands. She then brought her eyes downcast, her shy nature immediately taking dominance of her behaviour.
From her peripheral view, she saw him turning her gift between his long and lean fingers. She dared to look up to his face after a moment, but she had never expected him to come leaning towards her and pressing his lips to hers.
"Merry Christmas, Molly," he mumbled against her mouth before straightening himself up.
She must have had that severely shocked look on her face because Sherlock sighed heavily and understood that she somehow required an explanation. "John always does that to whatever girlfriend he has when said girlfriend gives him gifts, but he has none in return. I don't have a gift to produce, and you have…given me a gift…" His confident voice faltered at the end, and he shifted uncomfortably on his feet. He still had his eyes on her, though.
"Ah, that's- that's- oh, that's okay… It was- it was nice. And sweet…" Molly stammered, blushing furiously.
He visibly relaxed and gave her his trademark (playful and adorable) smirk before pivoting on his heels and striding out the doorway, his left hand unconsciously grasping the red gift tightly. Molly allowed herself a few seconds of silent squealings in delight before composing herself and rushing out the classroom to inform her friends of the 'Christmas gift' she had received from Sherlock, not forgetting to turn off the lights and fans on the way out.
Yes - it was definitely, by far, hands-down, the best Christmas gift she had gotten so far.
Once again, MERRY CHRISTMAS! :DDD