A/N: A slight interlude to fill in something I felt was missing from S3.

The next morning, John came over and did a complete inventory of Sherlock's refrigerator and pantry. "Mary assumed, quite rightly it seems, that you don't have any ingredients we'll need for tonight. You'll need to get rid of the severed foot in the fridge and the eyes in the ice cube tray in the freezer. Honestly, what is it with you and eyes?"

"Molly won't mind, she's the one who gave them to me."

"The rest of us will mind," John said peevishly. He printed off two recipes from the internet then quickly wrote out a list, handing it to him. "This is what you need to buy."

"Me?" Sherlock asked incredulously. "You actually expect me to go to the shop a week before Christmas? It'll be an utter madhouse."

"Consider it penance," John muttered.

"I thought that was what tonight's about."

John's response was a towel thrown in his face.

An hour later, Sherlock was still in the grocery store, glaring at the baking aisle's offerings like they had personally offended him.

"Hello, Freak," a familiar and unwanted female voice chirped behind him. "Didn't expect to see you here."

"Go away, Donovan." He'd deliberately picked a store far from Baker Street so he'd be less likely to run into someone he knew. So much for that.

"Need some help? Food shopping can be quite intimidating." She smirked.

"This," he waved an arm at the aisle, "isn't food," he sneered. "Food shopping I can handle. These are ingredients."

"Ingredients for what?"

Sherlock hesitated then sighed quietly. "I was an insensitive clot."

"You?" she smirked. "Never."

He ignored her interruption. "As punishment, I must endure an invasion of Baker Street by my 'nearest and dearest' tonight, as if the Christmas party next week won't be trying enough. John is insisting on serving hot chocolate and that I be the one to buy it. He was apparently unaware of how many types of chocolate there are."

Sally took the list from him and looked it over. "Not all of this is for hot chocolate."

"I'm also to buy ingredients for biscuits. John asked everyone to bring biscuits to share, and that apparently includes me."

"Well, I suggest peppermint bark instead, it's a good stress reliever."

"How so?" Sherlock asked, intrigued despite himself.

"Crushing the hell out of candy canes then breaking up the bark itself. It gets all of my holiday aggression out."

He considered her suggestion. John had said biscuits, but getting aggressive had a certain appeal after the frustrations of yesterday. "Alright, you've convinced me."

Sally gave him the first genuine smile he'd ever received from her. "C'mon, I'll help you." She showed him what he needed for both the hot chocolate and the bark.

"Are candy canes and peppermint extract really necessary?" he asked dubiously.

She smiled a bit. "Just trust me, Holmes."

He glanced at her shopping basket – a bottle of red wine, a box of gourmet chocolates, a celebrity tabloid, and a DVD of some ridiculous romantic comedy. "I see you're single again."

Sally nodded, sighing a bit. "I got tired of trying to compete with a role-playing game."

They took their groceries to the shortest check-out line, Sherlock magnanimously paying for hers as well. After a split-second's hesitation, he turned to her. "I'm in desperate need of a coffee, what about you?"

She blinked in surprise then nodded. "Sure."

Once they were settled in a booth at Starbucks, Sherlock decided to just ask the question that had been on his mind almost the entire time he'd known Sally. "Why don't you ask Graham out?"

She choked a bit on her gingerbread latte. "God, Sherlock, warn a person when you're going to ask a question like that."

His responding grin was anything but repentant. "Well? His divorce was finalized ages ago. He's single, you're single. You didn't have any qualms about dating a married man, I can't imagine you'd object to a divorced one."

"He's my boss," she reminded him. "The Met has rules about things like that. Greg might not see anything wrong with letting you tag along, but he's not about to date a subordinate."

"Then why don't you find a new detective inspector to work for? Dimmock could certainly use the help."

"Dimmock's an ass," Sally said firmly. She blinked in surprise. "Don't tell him I said that." She sighed quietly. "Greg's the best man I've ever worked with. I've learned so much from him."

"You can't keep going on like you are," Sherlock responded. "You're miserable and it's going to affect your work. You need to decide who you want more – Gavin the boss or Gavin the boyfriend."

She smiled a bit. "Why don't you ever call him by his proper name? Surely the great Sherlock Holmes can remember one person's full name correctly."

Sherlock shrugged. "He doesn't look like a Greg." At her responding smile, he added, "Don't avoid the question, Donovan. That's my act, not yours."

She took a deep breath then let it out slowly. "I have to think about it. Whichever one I choose, it would mean a big change." She smiled mischievously. "What about you and Dr. Hooper?"

Sherlock sipped his coffee. "What about us?"

"Is there an 'us?' I thought it was just 'you' and 'her.'" She grinned. "Everyone knows she's been in love with you for ages. As for you, Hat-Man, you've fancied her for a while now."

Sherlock scoffed. "I don't 'fancy' anyone. I would never do anything so juvenile."

"Love, then."

"My personal life is not under discussion, Sergeant."

"Ooo, defensive." Sally grinned. "That's a definite 'yes.'"

Sherlock huffed in annoyance and continued to sip his coffee.

After a moment, Sally said quietly, her eyes on her cup, "I want to apologize to you."

"For teasing me about Dr. Hooper?"

"For thinking you were a kidnapper, and a fraud. When you were arrested, I was smug. When you jumped … I felt justified. I honestly thought only a guilty man would've committed suicide. Internal Affairs grilled me, Anderson, Greg, everyone pretty hard during their investigation. I assumed they would come to the same conclusions Anderson and I had." She toyed with the lid of her cup. "When they cleared you, I was in shock. I didn't know their verdict until it was on the news. All I remember is the sound of my coffee mug hitting the floor before running to the loo and losing my breakfast in the first stall. The guilt I felt over forcing an innocent man to kill himself hit me like a freight train."

Sherlock nodded. "And when I revealed my ongoing survival?"

She smiled weakly. "I had to sit down, I felt so light-headed. It was like the weight of the world, or at least one arrogant consulting detective, was off my shoulders." She took another deep breath. "I'm sorry, Holmes. I was jealous of your skills and angry that you were always rubbing our … my face in my mistakes."

"You're forgiven, Sally." He smiled a bit. "Just make sure you have all the facts first next time."

Sally laughed weakly. "Noted."

He finished his coffee then said casually. "Why don't you come over tonight? George will be there."

She smirked a bit. "You're incorrigible."

He smirked back. "Is that a no?"

"It's a yes. Maybe seeing him outside of work will help me make up my mind." She grinned. "If nothing else, it'll be a chance to see you have to deal with your feelings like the rest of us."

"Joy of joys," Sherlock muttered.

A few hours later, Sherlock was in the middle of crushing a dozen candy canes with a rolling pin he'd borrowed from Mrs. Hudson when he was interrupted by the voice of his former flatmate.

"What on Earth are you doing?" John asked as he came into the kitchen, utterly confused. "Mary sent me over to check on you and it looks like I'm just in time – there aren't any candy canes in chocolate crinkle biscuits."

"Change of plan," Sherlock responded between attacks on the candy canes. "I'm making peppermint bark."

"We decided everyone was bringing biscuits."

"No, you decided. I decided to show my rebellious streak. Sgt. Donovan is helping me."

John looked around the otherwise unoccupied kitchen. "She is?"

"I am," came Sally's cheerful voice from Sherlock's mobile, which was propped up against the blender. "He's got me on speakerphone. Hello, Dr. Watson."

"Um, hi, Sergeant," John said, confusion evident in his tone. "I didn't know you and Sherlock were on speaking terms."

"It's amazing what a cup of coffee can do," Sally responded. "And please, call me Donovan. Or Sally even, if you want. Holmes needed help with the bark and I needed to make my own biscuits for tonight, so I agreed to help him virtually."

"Call me John. You're coming over?" John asked, surprised.

Both men heard Sally laugh. "Don't faint, but Holmes invited me."

Sherlock rolled his eyes at his best friend's incredulous look. "We buried the hatchet. You already invited all my other friends over, what's one more? Especially since Anderson can't make it."

"Right…" John looked a bit dazed but decided to go along with Sherlock's decision. "I just hope we have enough chairs."

"I just hope somebody remembers to record the party," Sally said, her smirk evident in her tone. "I, for one, am going to want to watch it over and over. Now, Holmes, are you done crushing the candy canes?"

"I guess I'll leave you two to your candy-making," John said, looking a bit dazed as he left.

Sherlock went to the sitting room windows to make sure his friend had actually left, then went back to the kitchen. "Enough about the bark, Donovan. You have to help me – what do I wear tonight?"

"Your aubergine dress shirt, obviously," Sally replied, in a decent imitation of himself. "Dr. Hooper can't keep her eyes off you when you wear it." Then he heard her mutter, "Neither can any other woman, for that matter."

Since he assumed she included herself in that statement, he decided to politely ignore it. "I was going to save that for … something."

"Your first date, perhaps?" Her chuckle was a little too knowing for Sherlock's taste. "The sapphire one, then. It brings out the blue in your eyes. But no jacket, this is supposed to be a casual get-together."

"Noted."

"Do you even own a pair of jeans?"

"Back to the bark."