Shivering from the biting wind, Molly jammed her keys into the door with numb hands. She barely made it to the table, setting the groceries down just in time as the bag exploded.

"Shoot." Molly grumbled, stooping over to pick up the cans of cranberry sauce. Lestrade, his wife, Mrs. H and Mrs. Turner were coming over tonight for a Christmas dinner party. She also invited John, but he had politely declined, saying he was busy.

Molly hung up her jacket and got to work on the turkey. She wasn't much of a cook herself, but she was determined to make the party as best as it could be. After all, it had been a little over half a year since Sherlock faked his death, and this reunion was important to her. The others weren't to know that he was alive, of course. Molly, Mycroft, and a handful of his 'homeless network' were the only ones who knew that he wasn't dead.

Molly lifted the turkey and set it in the oven, wiping her brow. It was already 3pm, and her guests would be arriving at 6. She still had to make the potatoes and gravy, vegetables to go with the turkey, and of course, pumpkin pie. Sighing loudly, she pulled out her laptop and began Googling recipes. If only she could've gotten her hands on one of Mrs. H's cookbooks!

ooOoo

"Thank you so much for this wonderful party!" Mrs. Lestrade thanked her, shaking her hand. "It was great to finally be able to meet you. Greg has said so much about all his friends, and I'm glad I could finally introduce myself!"

"Yeah, thanks Molly!" Greg graciously replied.

"It's my pleasure. I'm glad you came. Merry Christmas!" Molly beamed.

Mrs. Hudson and Mrs. Turner came next. "Oh Molly dear, thank you for having us!" Mrs. Hudson's voice dropped down, suddenly becoming barely audible. "It's been hard for all of us after Sherlock, but it's really nice seeing all his friends back together in one place."

Molly longed to tell Mrs. Hudson the truth, but Sherlock had swore her to an oath of secrecy. Still, it broke her heart seeing the old lady so distraught over Sherlock's death.

After everyone had left, Molly closed the door and slumped down on the sofa. It had been nice to see most of Sherlock's friends in once place again, as Mrs. Hudson had said, but there was one person missing.

Molly stood up and put on her jacket, before grabbing the still-warm food on their plates and bringing them outside to the balcony. She set them on her table, pulled up another chair and opened a bottle of red wine.

She sat there for a long time, staring at the snowflakes falling down onto the city beyond. London was always beautiful, but the fine layer of crystalline white made everything prettier. If only Sherlock could be here with her to see it...

Crunch! Molly jerked up, snapping back to reality. Had she fallen asleep? The sky seemed darker and the stars had moved, but everything else was as it should've been. What was that sound? She thought, looking up. It seemed to be an animal.

No, not an animal, Molly realized, footsteps!

Just then, a large cloaked figure dropped from the balcony above her, landing with a quiet thump and sending snow everywhere.

"Molly." Sherlock stood up, dusting ice off his coat.

"Hey, you," Molly grinned, biting her lip to stop herself from laughing. "What was that entrance? Are you Batman now?"

Sherlock shrugged. "I seem to have miscalculated which flat you lived in. Thankfully I was only one floor off."

Molly couldn't help it. She giggled. Sherlock gave her an abashed smile.

"Do sit down." Molly gestured to the empty chair across from her. Sherlock took it, scooting himself closer to the table. "Eat some food, I saved some for you."

"Thank you." This surprised Molly, but she didn't say anything as he helped himself to the dishes. "It's very good." He remarked through a mouthful of pie. "Did you make it?"

Molly nodded, pleased with herself. After they finished, she poured them both a glass of wine and Sherlock took his.

"Cheers," he said, raising his glass to hers with a clink. They drank in silence, taking in the cityscape below them. Sherlock's eyes had a faraway look in them, but he reached over the table and took her hand in his. It was surprisingly warm.

"I'm glad you came." Molly murmured, looking up at him.

"Me too," he replied. "I'm sorry to have missed the party, but since I'm legally deceased, it would spark a lot of awkward conversation."

Molly chuckled, scooting her chair around so that she was sitting next to Sherlock. As she did so, Big Ben chimed midnight. Sherlock turned to face her.

"Merry Christmas, Molly Hooper," he leaned in and planted a gentle kiss on her lips. Molly smiled softly and leaned against his shoulder, dozing off for the second time that night.

When she awoke, the sky was bright and the day was new. Molly turned to look at the chair next to her, but Sherlock was gone.

Instead, folded up neatly on her lap was a midnight blue scarf.