Goodness! Thanks for all the kind words and encouragement. Glad you liked part one. Part two is full of fun and confusion. Once again, I want to thank MizJoely for her beta work (and proofing it twice because of me and my changes!).

Hope you all have a safe and happy New Year!

I own nothing. Enjoy ~Lil~


Part 2

The first of what would be many oddities occurred two days after Molly's unusual visit to Baker Street. She had a couple of much needed days off following her hellish shifts, thank God. Her flat was a mess and Toby had not been pleased with her absence; he'd graciously expressed this by pissing on her favourite throw, the little shit. After a short but restful two hour nap - she refused to let her sleep schedule get thrown off because of the occasional odd shift - she had an early dinner then was back in bed by ten. She spent the next day cleaning, doing laundry and trying to coax Toby out of his mood.

All her domestic work finished, Molly was relaxing with a bowl of butternut squash soup and catching up on some back episodes of Outlander when her buzzer rang.

It was John. After speaking to him and unlocking the door, she crawled back under the throw (her second favourite, as #1 was still soaking in enzyme solution - she really liked that throw and was unwilling to give up on it!) and waited for him to come up. She was laser-focused on having a 'nothing day'; not even John Watson was going to mess it up.

"Heya!" he said as he walked in.

"Hullo," she returned. "I just made squash soup, want some?"

"No thanks." He weakly waved her off. "I'm running errands. You're one of many."

"How's Rosie?"

"Perfect and infuriating," he answered.

Molly laughed. "That's my girl."

Sitting in the armchair next to the sofa, he wrung his hands nervously, "Ah, Molls?"

Something was afoot, obviously. "What's wrong, John? Why am I an errand?"

Looking down, not meeting her eyes, he said, "I'm, er, sorry about putting you in the middle of things…"

"What are you talking about?"

His head came up. "When I was… After Mary died and I was…" Rubbing the back of his neck, he huffed and said, "With Sherlock. Asking you to give him that note and run interference…"

"John…"

"No! It wasn't right and I should've apologised a long time ago."

He was right, of course. It was a shitty thing to do, but she didn't care, didn't mind. The man had just lost his wife, for God's sake. "What brought this on?"

"Ah, Sherlock…" Reaching into his coat pocket, he pulled out an envelope. "... asked me to give this to you." Still holding it, not passing it over to her he said, "I was tempted to toss it out. I mean, it can't be good, can it?! What the hell can it be that he couldn't give it to you himself?"

Molly held out her hand. "Well, let's see, shall we?"

He was clearly expecting the worst. Reluctantly, he handed it to her, then crossed his arms over his chest like an angry child.

Shaking her head at John's petulance, Molly inspected the white envelope. It looked and felt like a card. A card from Sherlock? Not bloody likely. Opening it, she almost gasped to indeed find a greeting card inside. Then, laughed loudly as she saw several badly drawn skulls on the front. Inside it read, "Baby, it's skulls outside" and was signed with only an 'S' under the horrible joke and the date in the bottom right corner.

Still laughing, she handed it to the man across from her. He took it, read it, then looked up, confused. "What the hell?"

Molly stood and took the card back."Inside joke." She walked to the bookcase that held some of her most precious possessions, setting it up in front of the set of medical encyclopedia her father bought just before she started university. The card was ridiculous and strange and wouldn't be funny to anyone else, but she loved it.

John followed her. "I don't get it; what's the joke?"

Turning, she faced him. "He's just being an idiot," she said with a smile.

"He's not making fun of you?"

"Why would you think that?"

"Because he's… him!"

Molly patted John's shoulder. "He's actually being… cute, I suppose." She waved a hand. "Nevermind. And don't worry about anything that happened during that awful time. I was happy to help, even if it was unpleasant."

He was silent for several seconds. "You are… something else, Molly, do you know that?" She was about to make a joke to defuse the tension when he spoke again. "It's just too bad that he doesn't see it."

John Foot in the Mouth Watson strikes again. Unable to keep her face impassive, the hurt must have shown because he reached out for her - perhaps to comfort or apologise - but she moved away.

"Ah, you've got those errands, right?" she said, walking back to the sofa. "Not to mention you interrupted my day of doing nothing. Very rude of you, John."

"Molly…"

Once again ensconced in her bubble of comfort, she smiled. "It's okay. Really. Thanks for bringing the card."

Clearing his throat, he seemed to be considering saying more. Thankfully he didn't. Instead, he walked slowly to the door. "You're all right?" he asked as he opened it.

"I'm always all right, John."

o0o0o

Oddity #2 happened the very next day. Molly was back to work and very much recovered from her lack of sleep. Even Toby was in better spirits. And after a lengthy soak, her throw had been returned to its pleasant smelling self.

Midway through her shift, an intern came into the lab carrying a small wrapped parcel.

"Dr. Hooper?" she said.

"Yes, Alex?" Molly answered.

"This was just delivered for you." She placed it next to the microscope Molly was using.

It had no return label, just her name and 'Saint Bartholomew's Hospital, Pathology, Personal and Confidential' written on it. Confused, Molly asked, "How did you get it then?"

Alex shrugged. "Don't know. I was paged to come to the welcome desk and asked to bring it to you."

"Well… thanks." Alex smiled and left the lab. Molly went back to the analysis of the cultures she was working on; she'd been asked to rush them and was nearly finished.

Twenty minutes later, she got up, grabbed the package and went to her office. Once she had typed up her findings, she printed them and sent an email to the oncology, letting Dr. Krishnan know that his report was ready. He had requested a hard copy. Dr. K always picked up his reports in person, an antiquated habit, but what could she do?

Looking to her left, she saw the package and finally had time to open it. She didn't recognise the handwriting, so that didn't help solve the mystery. She opened it to find a small white box. Pulling off the lid, she laughed and immediately knew the sender. As she took the t-shirt out of the box, Dr. Krishnan walked into her office. Good Lord, was he waiting in the hall for his precious report?! The man needs a hobby!

"Dr. Hooper, do we need to talk about the meaning of the word 'quickly'?" he asked in his usual impatient voice.

She was still laughing, however. Between the image, the words on the shirt and Dr. K's ridiculous need for expediency, Molly couldn't stop laughing.

"What the hell are you laughing at?" he growled, trying to sound intimidating. Hard to pull off as he was one of the only people in the entire hospital who was smaller in stature than Molly. The tiny man put his hands on his hips and huffed, then reached for the shirt, snatching it from her hands. "Cereal killer?" he read. "I don't get it."

Molly picked up the report and handed it to him. "Ah, sorry, inside joke." She took the t-shirt from him and smiled as she looked at the skull and spoons (instead of crossbones) underneath.

"But, it's misspelt," he argued, ignoring his all-important report. "It should be s.e.r.i.a.l not c.e.r.e.a.l." Turning to leave, he added, "You should return it. I wouldn't pay for a shirt with improper spelling."

"Thank you, doctor," she said with a giggle.

o0o0o

Molly did wonder if there would be any more awful skull humour coming her way but received nothing the next day or the day after that. It turned out that Sherlock was heavily involved with a case; something about missing jewels attempted murder and a member of the House of Commons. Greg had explained this when he came in with DI Hopkins midweek.

She was convinced that Sherlock's foray into comical gift giving had been an aberration when, a week after the t-shirt delivery, she opened her personal email to see that she'd been spammed with skull… shit. He had sent her over two dozen skull related jokes, images, memes and a dirty limerick that bordered on indecent. How he managed to find it, she couldn't fathom, until she did a little internet search and stumbled upon a 'limerick generator' that answered all her questions. If he wanted to accomplish something, Sherlock Holmes would certainly find a way.

Thinking it would be fun to pay him back for all his gifts, she set about looking for the perfect 'thank you'. This was decidedly odd behaviour from her long-time friend - and they were proper friends now, had been for quite some time - but it felt… good. Normal. Like a fun little game between mates. It was certainly more healthy than drugs or obsessive detecting.

Twenty minutes later, Molly found just what she was looking for. Remembering something that Mycroft had said about Sherlock's childhood aspirations of being a pirate, she giggled as she clicked on the image of a coffee mug with a skull and crossbones on it. Across the top, it said: 'To err is human', underneath it said: 'To arr is pirate'. She was still giggling as she entered Sherlock's address in the send to field.

As much fun as that had been, she'd wasted half of her morning off and still had to finish her Christmas shopping. She had less than a week to get the remaining gifts she'd yet to pick up and it was her last day off before the holidays. She had managed to get Christmas and the week following off this year. Christmas Day would be spent with her mother, as she had missed it the last two years, but she had no set plans for Boxing Day. John had mentioned going to his sister's, but she hoped she'd get to spend some time with Rosie; the toddler meant the world to her. She briefly wondered if Sherlock had plans, but didn't dwell on it. After all his family had been through, they needed to be together for the holidays.

o0o0o

The presents just kept coming. Every day after the emails, Molly received a skull themed gift from Sherlock. Thursday it was a lovely - she was fully aware that most people would think her odd for calling anything involving a skull lovely, she simply didn't care! - snow globe. Friday's silk scarf, covered in gorgeous stylized skulls gave her pause, but she didn't think too much of it. On Saturday she received a pair of skull earrings. The small black studs with black crystals inlaid in the eyes caused Molly to gasp aloud when she opened them. They were delicate and oddly feminine. She instantly loved them.

Sunday, things started to get… well, a bit personal. Or, more personal considering the scarf and earrings.

She sat staring at the stunning glass vase with narrowed eyes, as she tried to figure out why the infuriating man had sent it. The etching of a sugar skull was unsurprising - he was keeping with a theme, after all - but the vase was filled with a dozen black roses. Roses?

She tried not to read too much into it; black roses did fit with his macabre motif. That was it, right? It was just his dark sense of humour. Nothing more. Nothing.

Thankfully, she'd not seen or heard, apart from the gifts, from the detective. He'd not even responded to her silly mug! Which she was sure had been delivered by now and was having second and third thoughts about having sent to him. What was this all about? Why was he showering her with gifts all of a sudden?

It had been funny at first. Now it was just confusing.

Christmas Eve was a killer in the morgue. By the time she finally got home, Molly was exhausted and frankly not looking forward to the long train ride to her mother's the following morning.

As she was getting out of the tub, she heard her buzzer ring. Answering it, she tied her dressing gown and the voice on the other end said, "Dr. Molly 'Ooper?"

"That's me."

"I 'ave a delivery from a Sherlock 'Olmes," the voice replied.

"Of course you do," She pressed the button to allow him to enter. "Bring it up."

Five minutes later she was signing for yet another package and thanking the rather rough looking young man. She sent him on his way with a Christmas-sized tip and placed the package on her coffee table. Sitting down, she looked at the package with no small amount of trepidation. What had he sent her this time? A severed head? Oh, could I be so lucky? The roses had spooked her, plain and simple.

Though she was attempting to guard her heart, that vase, well, the vase and its contents, were doing their best to cause an old, familiar feeling to flare.

Sherrinford had been awful and she hadn't even been there! Words were spoken that could not be unspoken. He'd never explained himself, though it wasn't exactly necessary. Mycroft and Greg had come by the following day to remove the multitude of cameras from her flat and make apologies. Whilst a half dozen agents de-surveilled her home, the DI and The British Government explained the events that led up to The Phone Call.

Sherlock had never mentioned it. Never said a single word about it.

But then again, neither had Molly. Far too worried about his mental well-being after hearing about all that had transpired, she had simply pushed that call, those words to the back of her mind and pressed forward.

"It's The Hooper Way, dear," her mother said when Molly visited about a month later. "Your father was quite good at pushing away the ugliness to focus on what other people's needs. You're like him..." Reaching out, her mother tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, then patted Molly's cheek like she did when she was a small child. Mum's eyes suddenly looked sad and a bit watery. "I know you love him, sweet-pea, but how long are you going wait for something that's never going to happen? You need to move on. This Sherlock doesn't seem to realise what's right in front of him."

It was solid advice. Her mum was good for that, solid advice and the best sticky toffee pudding in the British Isles.

The package was taunting her. Of course, so were the roses. They sat on her breakfast bar, being beautiful and confusing her poor old heart. She had brought them home since she had a week off and couldn't bear the thought of them dying… alone… in her office... without her.

"Oh, bloody hell!" she moaned to her empty flat.

Snatching up the package, she forcefully ripped off the brown paper wrapping. Underneath she found a plain white box. Okay, she thought, it's probably just another silly t-shirt, right? With a deep breath, she removed the lid…

"What the actual fuck?!"


Okay, I've left you hangin' and I'm not even a little sorry. If you'd like to see gifts, visit my tumblr or AO3 account (same name). I'm posting everything except the snow globe, I lost that image when my computer had a meltdown and could not for the life of me find the original... Grrrr!

Thanks so much for reading! A review would make me all kinds of happy! Love and Joy in 2019! ~Lil~