A.N.: This can be read as Sherlolly or not.
Disclaimer: Don't own Sherlock or the lyrics in this story
The morgue was quiet on Christmas Eve; no one really wanted to work that close to the big day, and there was never that much work to get done anyway.
Molly Hooper often found herself alone on Christmas Eve, but she had never really minded. She was content to finish up her work by herself, without the interference of co-workers or consulting detectives. It was the most peace she usually got all year.
It was during these hours of silence that she upheld one of her few Christmas traditions; she had been preparing all morning, and by approximately three fifteen in the afternoon, she felt ready.
And so, as she did the finishing touches on her last autopsy report, Molly Hooper began to sing.
"Hark the herald angel sing,
'Glory to the newborn king!
Peace on earth and mercy mild,
God and sinners reconciled!'
Joyful, all ye nations rise,
Join the triumph of the skies
With th'angelic host proclaim:
'Christ is born in Bethlehem!'
Hark the herald angels sing,
'Glory to the newborn king!'"
With each word, the stresses of Christmas were beginning to slide off of her shoulders, and she felt lighter. No matter what happened for the rest of the week, she would be able to handle it.
She left the briefest of pauses before going on to the second verse.
"Christ, by highest heav'n adored,
Christ the everlasting Lord!"
Her voice faltered slightly when she heard it: music to accompany her singing.
She wheeled around on her heel and saw Sherlock standing in the doorway, playing his violin.
The sight shocked her so much that she forgot to stop singing to ask him what he was doing there. He wasn't looking at her, concentrating fully on his playing. Yet she must have sounded different, for he looked up at her and gave her a small smile.
"Late in time behold Him come
Offspring of the Virgin's womb
Veiled in flesh the Godhead see
Hail th'Incarnate Deity!"
Knowing full well that she couldn't stop singing, she decided to try and have a conversation with her eyes.
'What are you doing here?' she asked, but was awarded no answer. Sherlock nodded slightly towards her work, encouraging her to continue, to ignore him and act as though he was not there at all.
"Pleased as Man with man to dwell,
Jesus our Emmanuel.
Hark the herald angels sing,
'Glory to the newborn king!'"
Monumentally confused, Molly turned her back on the violinist and finished writing her report.
"Hail the heav'n born Prince of Peace,
Hail the Son of Righteousness!
Light and life to all He brings
Ris'n with healing in His wings"
It was amazing how he matched her tempo perfectly. She sang at a slower pace than the song was normally performed, for she felt that the song sounded better when it was slowed down. He didn't seem to mind, and carried on playing behind her.
"Mild He lays His glory by
Born that man no more may die
Born to raise the sons of earth
Born to give them second birth!"
As she began the final chorus, he began playing flourishes and improvising slightly with the music. She smirked to herself, still with her back to him.
Of course, he would have to show off.
"Hark the herald angels sing,
'Glory to the newborn king!'"
As the song ended, she wrote the final word on the report and the music ended gracefully behind her. She turned around to say something, to thank him, to comment on his playing, to say anything, but she had no chance.
He was gone.