A/N: The Baker Street Christmas party is always a setting I like to use or reference. So even though I was going to be somewhat late for an appointment, I simply had to write out this sweet little scene in my head. Hopefully you'll enjoy it. Happy Labour Day! x
Consent
He paced the flat nervously as he had the first time, when he had invited her for a spot of crime-solving. Today, however, there were neither crimes to solve nor experiments to do. When she showed up, she smiled gently at him, as she always did. He walked towards her, eyes hovering around his shoes. Had it been his way, he would not have been doing this. However, with both John and Mary nagging him to death about it, he was left with no other choice.
"You wanted to see me?" she asked.
"Yes…" he replied.
"What about?"
"I…was asked…to ask you…" he began.
"Oh, so this isn't something you wanted to ask me…" Molly interrupted, eyeing him suspiciously.
"Well, it…sort of is but, you know, I…"
"I haven't got all day, Sherlock," Molly said with a sigh. Years of tolerating him had left her a little impatient with him of late. Who could blame her?
"Right. Sorry." he answered.
Clearing his throat, he finally looked up at her, properly. His eyes were bright, as always, but Molly never saw the secret shyness behind their blue.
"Molly…"
"Yes?"
"Please come to the Christmas party tomorrow…" he said, just short of mumbling.
Molly smiled and shook her head.
"I'd already told Mrs Hudson I wasn't coming," she said softly. It was her turn to look at her shoes now.
"But you'll be alone at Christmas…" Sherlock blurted, realising his bluntness too late.
"Yes, you're right," Molly answered coolly, "This will be the first one alone after two years of Christmases with Tom."
No one spoke for a while. The silence hung between them as dust would dance in a shaft of light.
"Do you miss him?" Sherlock asked suddenly. His voice was quiet, almost gentle.
"Surprisingly, no. Not really." she answered with a shrug.
"Good. So you should spend it with us then." he said.
"How does that connect, Sherlock?" she asked with a laugh.
"It doesn't…" he confessed, looking awkwardly around again.
With a soft sigh, Molly readjusted the bag on her shoulder and seemed poised to leave. Her eyes lingered on the oddly quiet and uncertain detective before her. Inside her head, she was secretly amused, but she remembered to keep a straight face. They had to be grown-ups now. No more cat-and-mouse games.
"Is that all, Sherlock? I have to go," said Molly, fiddling with the ends of her scarf.
"Please come tomorrow…" Sherlock repeated, surprising both Molly and himself.
"Why?" Molly asked gently.
Again, Sherlock cleared his throat, more from nervousness than anything and took a few steps forward to Molly. Carefully, he leaned towards her and gave her a gentle kiss on the side of her face.
"Come tomorrow, Molly. Please." he whispered.
"Why?" asked Molly again.
"Because I miss you," he said.
Sherlock swept her into his arms and held her, as though emphasising his point. Molly did not have to say yes. Instead, she wrapped her arms around him and smiled, before going up on her tip toes to kiss him gently on the lips.
END
