AN: Just a quick drabble inspired by Rupert Graves amazing jaw drop during the Christmas scene

Molly had managed to maintain some kind of composure while he was in the room, but as soon as Sherlock departed with the present from the mantle she said a very quiet "Excuse me" and made a beeline for the washroom, because she couldn't keep it off her face any longer. She was used to dealing with Sherlock and his rather, blunt way of stating people's faults, but this time she had been absolutely humiliated. It was like high school all over again; people laughing and making jokes and enjoying the little show she put on as she tried to keep herself together. That was why she became a forensic pathologist; dead people can't relentlessly tease you. And she knew that Sherlock wasn't as cruel as those girls in the hallways, and that he hadn't meant to be cruel, but that didn't make it hurt less.

Molly stepped onto the tiled floor and then closed the door behind her, the click-clack of her heels echoing slightly as she made her way over to the sink. She looked at herself in the mirror, at all the effort she had put into her appearance, then hung her head and laughed a laugh that choked off into a small sob halfway through as tears began to fall. She had tried so hard, planned this for weeks, all for it to torn apart in one minute by the very man she was trying to impress.

Knock knock.

Molly lifted her head in time to see the door open slightly, and remembered that she had forgotten to lock the door. She kept her eyes locked on the door in the mirror as she saw a shoe step through the doorway, then a leg, then the inspector.

"Molly?" The inspector looked towards the left first before his head turned and his eyes caught hers in the mirror. "Oh Molly," he sighed. He stepped through the doorway fully, closing and locking the door behind him and then leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets.

"I-I'm alright, inspector," Molly stammered, trying to discretely wipe the tears off her face. "I just, um, came in here to fix my… my makeup."

"Molly don't listen to him." The woman froze. "He was just being an idiotic prat," Lestrade stepped away from the wall and crossed the room to where Molly was standing. "And to be honest, Molly Hooper," he said, grabbing her shoulders and turning her around to face him, "You could so much better."

Molly sniffed and gave a small shake of her head. "Please," she whispered, "Just, stop. I really don't need pity right now inspector, I just need a bit of time to… collect myself."

Lestrade lifted one of his hands from Molly's shoulders to subconsciously rub the back of his neck and his eyes moved from Molly's. "Look, John feels horrible about what happened, and Mrs. Hudson is really worried about you. Just…" His eyes once again caught hers. "Don't leave without coming back to the party for a bit, alright? There's still plenty of wine left, it can still be a good evening."

Molly broke eye contact with the inspector to stare down at her shoes. "I… I'll consider the offer, thank you. Now, it would be nice if you would step out, just so that I make myself presentable," she said, gesturing towards her ruined makeup.

Lestrade nodded, sliding his hands off her shoulders so that they hung at his sides. He gave Molly a small nod, and turned to leave. He reached the door, turning the handle and opening it, but just before stepping out, he turned his head back to Molly.

"You know, Molly, for all of Sherlock's so called "great skills of observation", there is one thing, quite a noticeable thing, that he overlooked."

"What," Molly said, rolling her eyes. "What did the great Sherlock Holmes miss in his brilliant deduction?" Her voice broke on the last word as tears threatened to fall again.

Lestrade stood there for a moment, looking Molly up and down, and then stated, very matter-of-factly: "He overlooked the fact that you look absolutely beautiful tonight."

Then he walked out of the washroom, closing the door quietly behind him.

Molly turned back to the mirror and grabbed a tissue from the box balanced on the rim of the sink, getting ready to start wiping off the dripping mascara, but when she brought her head up and actually looked into the glass she saw a small smile on her face, and Molly may not have been Sherlock Holmes, but even she noticed little things from time to time. Smile on her face. Blush on her cheeks. Smile in her eyes.

Molly's smile widened.

She was happy.

Thanks for reading! Reviews always appreciated.