CHRISTMAS EVE 2015
Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse…
BANG! CRASH! WALLOP!
Molly Hooper's eyes snapped open. There was an intruder in her flat. She was just reaching for her mobile to call the police when….
"Owwww!" the unmistakable baritone vocals of one Consulting Detective roared as Sherlock clearly tripped over the presents under her Christmas tree. This was quickly followed by a tinkling crunch as he collided with said tree.
By this time Molly was up out of bed and marching angrily into her sitting room.
"Sherlock Holmes! What the hell do you think you're…"
Molly's mouth hung open at the sight in front of her. She blinked several times, but even after she shook her head vigorously, the vision remained.
The detective was in the process of straitening his jacket, but not his regular jacket. This one was red, with white trim. It appeared to have no buttons, being secured with the aid of a black belt around his narrow waist with a large buckle on the front. The jacket matched the trousers that were as per his requirements unusually tight. The outfit was completed with a red hat that sat on a jaunty angle upon his head, and on his feet he wore black, shiny boots.
Sherlock Holmes made a very sexy Santa Clause.
Molly became embarrassingly aware of her own attire, which consisted of an old t-shirt and sweatpants. She was torn between the urge to race back to her room to grab at the very least one of her half decent dressing gowns, or staying put so she could continue ogling the detective in his new outfit.
Sherlock, having untangled himself from the wreckage of the tree had moved to stand directly in front of his pathologist, who was attempting, and failing, to keep her eyes from the amount of bare, pale skin that was on show under the jacket.
"Is this for a case?" she asked in a desperate attempt to divert her attention from the distracting glimpses of naked flesh that were firing her imagination with all sorts of naughty thoughts.
"Case?" Sherlock looked confused.
Molly indicated what he was wearing, averting her eyes as even more skin was revealed when he looked down to inspect what he wore.
Sherlock noted with satisfaction the breathless quality of her breathing and the heated flush that dusted her cheeks.
"No Molly," he said, his own breathing becoming erratic.
He reached inside a trouser pocket and removed a sprig of mistletoe that he held above their heads. Leaning down, his lips just brushing hers, he explained, a wicked glint appearing in his aqua coloured eyes. "This is all for you. Merry Christmas my love."