CHAPTER ONE: MERRY CHRISTMAS

She already knew deep down that it was going to be a disaster from the moment she took off her coat and Sherlock glanced at her fleetingly. Everyone noticed her blatant presentation of a 'done-up' Molly, except him. He didn't seem to notice a difference at all. He looked at her like the same Molly at the morgue, wearing her khakis, oversized sweaters and loafers—

same 'ol Molly, unattractive Molly, not-girlfriend-quality Molly, un-seductive Molly, 'just plain Molly'.

She felt horribly ridiculous and embarrassed that she wanted to disappear. She wanted to rewind time to decline the invitation to the Christmas party with some excuse either related to her work, cat, or 'other friends'. But time only moved forward, and there she stood with the consequences of her actions.

She regretted deciding to wear the black dress, the bow in her hair, and the red lipstick. She assumed everyone would be dress in dresses, heals, and ties, but then again she was never invited to many holiday social gatherings outside of those that took place at work to begin with. She came in way over dressed; lesson learned.

She wanted him to notice her, but instead John and Lestrade took note and complemented her… but not Sherlock. Never Sherlock.

She never felt as awkward and naked as she did, as when Sherlock berated her for her dress, her lip color, her breasts. She hoped he would enjoy his present, but instead saw and witness with horror as he brushed her off with a simple 'sorry' and kiss to the cheek before tending off the party to attend to better things. Somehow she felt robbed, and discarded; exposed and ridiculous.

"You look very lovely, Molly, dear."

She heard the compliments as she tried to be more cheerful and appear unfazed; yet found difficulty in doing so.

Sherlock's hurtful words echoed and scarred her; haunted her, more so than his fleeting shameless peck of a kiss of apology. And although he never apologized—and such a task from him was considered a feet—somehow something inside of her—her attraction towards him wilted.

Molly barely finished her drink when she bid goodbye. Lestrade offered to walk her to her car—a gentleman that he was—and she was sure he would talk to her about how Sherlock was a jerk or just "being Sherlock"—but she was tired and didn't want to hear them. She smiled at him and shook her head 'no' and was the first to leave the Christmas party in 221B.

Every step she took down the stairs brought on with it a clarity that she never felt before.

Molly found herself sitting in her parked car, quiet for a moment as she watch Lestrade retreat up the stairs to the party. She felt a pain in her chest and knew it was the hurt. Did she think the night would be anything but what it was? She would have been delusional or dreaming if somehow the outcome of the night was any different.

She squared her shoulders and steadied herself, her lips pursed as she tried to prevent them from quivering, as she held the tears that threatened to imitate. It was Christmas Eve, and for Molly she was going to spend it alone again.

The moment Molly stepped into her apartment she was greeted by her cat Toby. 'At least someone is eager to see me," she couldn't help but think bitterly. She watched as Toby rubbed her face gently on the bottom of her black heels; she kneels down and pets her companion.

"Merry Christmas to you too, Toby."

She was about to get up and take her coat when all of a sudden her phone began to ring. No one ever called her during this time, especially in the Holiday's unless it was an emergency. Her heart beat briefly—for a moment wondering if it could be a family member or Sherlock (why she had that thought—she felt like a traitor to her hurt feelings). The sound of the ringing startled Toby and she scattered away to the far corner of the apartment and disappeared from sight.

Molly stood up and picked through her purse.

The phone rang again.

She finally picked it up; having forgotten to look at the name on the screen.

"Molly Hooper speaking."

Her voice as steady as she tried her best to make.

"Oh, Molly, I hope you're not busy—we got a bit of an emergency here".

She mentally kicked herself for not reading the caller ID before responding. Of course, it was her work calling her.

Molly let out a breath she had forgotten she was holding.

"I'm… not busy; just got home from a party."

Sure, Molly, make it sound like you actually have a life.

"Uhm, we need you here tonight," Stewart, her boss sounded unsettled, and he seemed urgent, "It's about a body of a woman found, we need your expertise to look at the body—cause of death—"

"Where's Daniel? Isn't he working tonight?"

Her question was unnecessary as she knew the answer. She would be going to work. She just wanted to sound as if she cared at all, and that she sounded like she had plans that were being interrupted.

She laughed inwardly at herself. She never had plans outside of work and staying at home with her cat, and she was certain her boss knew this all too well along with everyone else.

"Daniel is here, but you're requested; it's very important."

Molly furrowed, "Requested? By whom? Stewart is there something you're not telling me?"

Stewart sighed, "Listen, we have government officials here and I think this woman's body is a serious case. The gentleman here says you come highly requested. Get here. "

"I…I'll be there, Stewart, don't worry!"

Molly wondered what kind of situation would warrant an important autopsy, where she was specifically requested. She didn't know if she should be scared and worried. She felt neither. She was curious as to what she'd find, and wouldn't be surprise is Sherlock had some part in all of it.

"Give me about half an hour." Molly began to pull her coat off, "I have to change, get out of this ridiculous clothing—"

Stewart cut her off.

"They have a car waiting for you outside—"

"Huh? What do you mean?"

Molly rushed to her window and looked out her door. She noticed a black car parked in the front of her building, a driver all in black stood outside of it waiting near the passenger door.

"Listen, Molly, do us a favor and get your butt in there. I just want this to get done with so we can enjoy our Holiday. Consider this three times pay during the Holiday."

"Government officials, you say?"

"Yes!" Stewart paused and Molly could hear a gentleman's voice behind him saying something she could not distinguish. "They'll take you to Barts, I'm here already. No time for you to change. Just go and I'll see you here."

The phone line clicked disconnected.

Without a second thought, Molly left her apartment. She had her spare clothes at her work closet. I can change there right away, she thought.

She went down the steps and was greeted by the driver of the black car. He acknowledged her with a nod of his head and opened the door.

Molly is greeted by a gentleman seated on the other side of the passenger seat. Someone she's never met but who appeared to know her all too well, and seemed very important. Words escape her, and for a brief moment she stands outside the door simply looking at him questioningly.

'What the hell have I gotten myself into,' she thought as her gaze is met by steeling grey eyes.

"Please do get inside, Ms. Hooper. We shall talk about exactly what it is your task will be."

"And you are?" Molly asked; a concern in her voice as she feels uneasy about the situation, and yet curious in the same. She needed to know who this man was before she would freely get inside.

"Mycroft Holmes," he said, "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Oh."

"Please do get inside. We have matters of grave importance to tend to."


AUTHOR'S NOTE: Please review to let me know what you think of this chapter. Thanks!