A/N: This was written as three little parts in response to a Sherlolly request by an amazing artist on tumblr. She does some amazing Sherlolly art and I absolutely love her work. Her tumblr username is flavialikestodraw. Anyway, I enjoyed writing Sherlolly a little more intimately than I usually do. I can't help it. Some days, you just want them to kiss and kiss and kiss...

Second Chance to Dream

I.

This was the first Christmas party since, well, he had fallen. Here he was, resurrected, unabashed and moving full steam ahead into new cases. But for tonight, he slowed down a little, played a touch of violin for the guests, toasted a drink or two, and waited. When she finally arrived, she was bashful, avoiding his eye completely. It had been three years but the lesson from that first Christmas stayed with Molly like a splinter in her skin. The moment she showed up, with a smaller bag of presents this time, she greeted everyone with her usual cheer. Molly was deciding between greeting or ignoring Sherlock, as he was probably going to ignore her anyway. To her surprise, he put down his violin, strode up to her and reached for her, pressing her close to him as his lips kissed the side of her face. "I am sorry," he whispered, "Forgive me." He then pulled apart and lowered his head to kiss her gently on the lips. With a hint of a smile and a dancing light in his eyes, he told her, "Merry Christmas, Molly Hooper. It's good to be alive, because I have someone like you."

II.

It had gone marvellously well. Certainly the happiest Baker Street had ever seen. More importantly, it had been a comfortable Christmas party. No awkward deductions made, no mention of infidelities, no impasses. In fact, Sherlock had been surprisingly quiet in speech and unusually gentle in manner. He spent most of the evening sitting next to Molly, listening to all the chatter and conversation that floated around him. Molly would quip in ever so often, making her odd but endearing little contributions here and there. Molly had calmed down from the sudden embrace and declaration that had been Sherlock's Christmas greeting. His resurrection seemed to have also brought to life a sincerity and humanity that didn't exist before. Molly was grateful for the change. Throughout the night, she would steal glances at him and she could see that his eyes were brighter, but also softer. When the night ended and people were taking their leave, Molly was last to go. She had stayed back to help Mrs Hudson clear the table of wine glasses and cheese trays. When Mrs Hudson finally shooed her away, Molly said her goodbyes and reached for her coat. It was then that Sherlock's hand reached out and stopped her.

"Stay with me a little while longer. Please?" he asked gently.

Molly left her coat where it was on the hook and let Sherlock lead her to his room.

III.

When he shut the door behind them, Molly could feel her heart in her mouth. Everything had gone smoothly, but it was completely abnormal, as far as being around Sherlock Holmes was concerned. Quiet when he should have been snarky, gentlemanly when he should have been cold. He even put his arm around her several times when she would make her silly little jokes as guests chatted. Everything about tonight was wonderful, but it was so terribly unusual. The circumstances around Sherlock simply being here was unusual. After all, to everyone, it really did seem like he had come back from the dead. It certainly felt that way to Molly. So when he shut and locked the door behind them, she could hardly breathe anymore. Was this some kind of second chance to dream? Gently taking her hand, Sherlock led her to the edge of his bed where they both sat quietly. He took her hand in his and brought it to his lips, kissing it gently. Molly was in sheer disbelief, but also deliriously happy. When he let go of her hand, she simply couldn't resist taking the plunge. Taking his face in her hands, she kissed him with the full depth of her emotions. Every bottled feeling she had been hiding inside drove her kiss.

The warmth of her body and the sheer bliss of her mouth on his own was simply too much for Sherlock. He succumbed to the blood that raced in his galvanised veins as he pulled Molly in closer, matching the depth of her kiss with his own. When their faces parted, they both wore stunned, but amused expressions. Sherlock was not familiar with being out of breath this way, but he was no longer going to deprive himself of such glorious pleasure. He wrapped his arms tightly around Molly, who returned his embrace, kissing the side of his face.

"I never dreamt…that this day would come," Molly whispered shyly into his ear.
"Neither have I, to be honest." he replied, and they both laughed softly.
"But I certainly have dreamt of it…" she continued, gently touching her lips to his perfect jawline.

Sherlock reached for her face and drew her in for another kiss. Never had the proximity to another human being generated such remarkable electricity under his skin. It was such ecstasy that it was almost illogical. This Christmas night, however, logic was to take a backseat.

"Tell me all about this dream, Molly Hooper," said the handsome detective, slowly turning the lights down.

Molly kicked off her shoes, undid her hair and pulled him to towards her. With a satisfied sigh, the pair kissed again as Molly began to tell Sherlock all about her dream.

End