It would be safe to say that in between the walls of 221B Baker Street there was not a single memory involving Christmas or any other holiday that hadn't ended with a disaster.
Dr. John Watson had no faith this year it would be any different. However, upon the happy return of his best friend from his tragic fake-death three years ago, the doctor found himself enable to resist another cause for celebration.
Invitations where sent, decorations where hanged, Christmas lights where lit and even a risky mistletoe was hanged above the entry door.
Sherlock sat in his room while the decorations took place, but as guests began pouring in John demanded his presence. Mike and his wife came first, joining the happily married John and Mary in the living room. Lestrade walked in and immediately joined Sherlock in the kitchen, avoiding happy couples after his divorce.
On her way up, Mrs. Hudson opened the door to Molly.
"Molly dear. Oh..." The woman smiled.
"Hi Mrs. Hudson. How are you?" Molly grinned while the two of them hugged.
"Oh I'm just lovely, thank you!" Mrs. Hudson said while Molly took off her coat. "Oh my, Molly you look wonderful..." she noticed the creamy yellow sweater with a bow on it and the dark red flowy skirt.
"Thanks! You too." She gestured at the flowery dress "Shall we join everyone upstairs?"
Sherlock walked right by the door when Molly stepped into the apartment, he quickly greeted her with a grateful smile.
Three years ago every soul in the room would have found the gesture extremely inappropriate coming from Sherlock Holmes, but upon discovering Molly's assistance in the detective's disappearance (revealing how much he trusted her) their relationship was quickly accepted to be more than a simple flatter-in-order-to-gain-access companionship.
And yet, as Mary and her husband looked through the doorway of the kitchen at the detective and Molly, Mary had to sigh with understanding "so that's why you suggested the mistletoe."
John smiled "Well she deserves it!"
"I agree." Mary patted his shoulder and walked toward Molly, greeting her with a hug.
The celebration went on smoothly, especially since Sherlock spent most of the evening with his eyes and mouth shut, paying most of his attention to playing melodies on the violin.
Once in a while, he'd sneak a glance at the guests.
John, he was clearly glad being with his best friend in his life again but there was distance between them with Mary in the picture.
Noticing him looking, John tilted his head in Sherlock's direction, raising his glass toward his friend. Sherlock raised the sides of his mouth in return.
Turning his attention to Mary he deduced her, only the obvious things: lipstick slightly smeared but fixed quickly and not with much effort, judging by the pink traces of it on her fingertips. Conclusion, she and John had a short intimate moment a few minutes ago and Mary had to quickly fix her look without a mirror in the room, explaining the low quality of work she put into it. Mary, Sherlock found, was good for John. She was demanding but patient, a good match for Sherlock's best friend.
Sherlock's gaze shifted to Mike and his wife, who drunk quite a bit and with shiny red cheek where giggling out their conversations to Lestrade and Molly.
And then, Sherlock's gaze landed on Molly Hooper.
He noticed the drastic change of holiday-wear she chose since the last Christmas she celebrated in 221B. It may have been caused by his despicable comments at her appearance back then, or possibly simply from feeling more comfort in a simple attire. Her posture was what changed the most: head held higher, hands not fidgeting with clothing, neck long and graceful movements.
Molly noticed his gaze, and looked back at him.
Sherlock smiled at her.
He was beyond grateful for her help, but he had trouble making it clear.
Ridiculous emotions...
"Goodbye! Merry Christmas!" Called John and Mary from the door to Mr. and Mrs. Stamford who were walking down the street toward their home.
They closed the door, sighing that all the guests left, and walked back to 221B.
Well, almost all of them.
Mary walked in first, then, noticing Molly and Sherlock sitting together somewhat awkwardly on the couch, she grabbed John's hand in hers and led him into the kitchen, trying to ostracize the other two in the room.
"And," Sherlock thought of what to say "Do you enjoy the job?" He asked. He wished John was in the room to witness a conversation with Molly not involving any insults coming from his side. At the same time, he also wished John and Mary where gone from the entire building, leaving him and Molly completely alone.
"Yes," Molly smiled "it's nice to see patients leave the room alive for a change, heh." She giggled quietly, and then coughed coyly. Sherlock smiled a bit, three years being the only one who knew he was alive and braking the law a few dozen times for him, still she managed to keep an unbearably weak sense of humor.
After a silent minute Molly stood, draping her bag over her shoulder "umm, well I better go."
She walked toward the door "Bye John, Mary," looking over her shoulder "Sherlock..."
Just as she reached the door Sherlock stood and quickly walked to her, firm hand placed upon her right elbow, making her turn around so they faced each other.
He sighed "Molly."
She avoided his glare, but finally gave in to his fierce eyes.
"Hmm?" she asked.
His words came out forcefully "I- wanted to," inhale "thank you." exhale
She smiled "Oh course Sherlock..."
They were quiet when all of the sudden a little white speck fell on her cheek, her hand reached out to grab it. Their eyes looked up to see the source from which it came from.
And right there it was. A collection of red and white spots in a green mess of leafs and a little shiny red bow on top. A goddam mistletoe...
Their eyes met. She looked at his eyes, waiting for a disgusted look and to walk away, two things that never came. Her eyes trailed down his Greek nose and down to his slightly parted lips, studying his defined mouth and counting the accelerating speed of his breath.
Sherlock studied her dilated pupils, her flushed cheeks and smooth long (no-exaggerated-red-lipstick) lips.
It was a few seconds late to make a run for it when he realized they were leaning toward each other. Feeling her breath warm on his lips, her eyelids automatically dropped, he aimed for the mouth, shut his own eyes and pressed his mouth to hers.
Both breathed in and pressed closer. Her hands gingerly crawled up his arms and rested on the back of his shoulders. Hesitate, Sherlock placed firm hands on her waist, sliding her closer.
Their lips molded for a few more seconds before Sherlock abruptly pulled away.
He dropped his gaze, she looked at him with anticipation.
Catching her eyes for a brief second he wished her Merry Christmas and ran to his room, shutting the door behind him.
Molly walked outside, waved her hand to the road and sat inside a cab. Dropping her head sadly; both embarrassed and flattered. She shivered when a gust of wind from the driver's slightly-open window reached her. She tightened her scarf around her neck, and pushed her hands into her coat pocket.
Her hands ran into something. She wrapped her fingers around a small rectangular box and pulled it out.
The box was covered in glistening dark green wrapping paper, it was a bit smaller than her palm.
On it was a note.
She slowly opened it, reading the short message:
' John's idea. Merry Christmas- SH'
Even slower, she opened the box.
A silver mistletoe on the end of a thin silver chain sparkled in the colorful Christmas lights pouring from the streets and into the taxi.
Molly smiled to herself when she paid for the driver, when she walked to her apartment, when she dropped contently onto her bed, and when she fell asleep.
Holding the goddam mistletoe in her hands the entire time.