AN: A very Merry Christmas to all of you! And to those who celebrate something else or not at all, I hope your day has been just as wonderful! :)

Christmas music floated around the room and Molly hummed along as she sipped her punch. It was her favourite time of year; fresh snow falling in thick flakes and Christmas lights dazzling each tree. And now the Christmas Ball.

She smiled widely as Mary and John swirled past her, their cheeks rosy from the exertion of dancing.

Mary had been so wary of John, who had been quite the flirt, but eventually he had won her over and now was a one-woman flirt. And if the way he was staring at her was any indication, he had serious plans to bring her along with him to medical school, a ring on her finger.

Molly brushed her hand against the silk of her skirt, the fabric billowing out as she swayed gently to the music. The crimson and ivory gown made her feel older than her 17 years. Her hair was in a loose braid and then pinned it back in a soft chignon and she wore ivory gloves that went past her elbows. Yes, she certainly did feel very grown up.

'Oh, Molly! You simply must dance.' Mary stumbled off the dance floor, pulling John behind her. They were both flushed from the exercise and couldn't stop smiling.

'And who, Mary, would dance with me?' Molly laughed.

Mary nodded at a group across the room. 'I wouldn't be surprised if Sherlock didn't want the first, if not all, the dances on your dance card tonight.'

Molly looked in that direction and her heart skipped a beat when she caught Sherlock's unwavering gaze. He stood tall and distinguished in his suit, his curls brushed back elegantly. And he was ignoring the entire group around him as he locked eyes with her.

Swallowing, Molly looked down at her cup and then shakily set it on the table behind her.

'Well? Aren't you going to ask him to dance?' Mary teased. John nudged her none-to-gently in the ribs and shot her a warning look.

'Of course not!'

Mary huffed. 'I thought you were friends?'

'We are!' Molly exclaimed defensively. Both John and Mary looked at her dubiously. Sure, Molly hadn't been too friendly with Sherlock, but since the day he'd almost kissed her, they were on passable speaking terms. She no longer ignored him or looked down her nose at him in disdain.

Instead, she would blush at the very sight of him and stutter whenever he spoke to her. Whatever this new air between them was, she thought it was much worse than when she'd hated him.

'Besides,' she chuckled nervously, brushing off the uncomfortable line of questioning, 'everyone knows I have two left feet. And even that is a rather generous assessment!'

Mary elbowed John again. Shooting his girlfriend one last glare, John rubbed his side and graciously held out his hand to Molly with a sincere smile. 'I'd be delighted to dance with you.'

'That's very sweet of you, John, but I'm afraid you'd go home with a broken toe or two-oh!'

Before Molly could properly protest, John had pulled her into his arms and swept her into the bevy of dancers circling the room. Stumbling, Molly pulled back and desperately tried to find her footing. She mock scowled up at John who was trying to hold back his laughter.

'If I tread on you, you only have yourself to blame!' Molly warned, but she couldn't stop the laugh bubbling up.

They danced around the room several times. And Molly only stepped on John's toes thrice (and once more on purpose when he teased her); each time the poor boy tried to hide his grimace with a smile.

The song came to an end and they pulled apart, smiling and breathless, and clapped with the rest of the dancers.

Molly thanked John for the dance and kissed his cheek. The once flirtatious boy simply beamed back at her and squeezed her hands. Yes, Molly thought fondly of her best friends, John was as in love with Mary as she was with him.

Gathering her skirt in one hand, Molly turned to leave the dance floor. But her route was abruptly blocked by a broad chest in a rich aubergine shirt tucked into a striking black waistcoat.

'I hope you don't mind if I take the next dance.'

The deep baritone voice made her heart skip a beat and she slowly raised her eyes. Sherlock looked down at her, his face expectant. Behind her, John smiled smugly and walked over to Mary, who was watching them.

Molly belatedly realized Sherlock was holding out his hands. The strains of the next song were beginning and she cautiously slipped her hand in his. With ease, he stepped forward and soon they were dancing a smooth waltz. Molly couldn't bring herself to look higher than the third button of his shirt.

'I hear you've been accepted to Bishop's College to study medicine next fall.'

Molly nodded. 'You heard correctly.'

He turned them about, Molly's skirts flowing around them. 'Do you have any preference for speciality? Or are you as of yet undecided?'

Her gaze moved higher and she focused on his Adam's apple bobbing just above his shirt collar. 'I, erm, I hope to pursue Pathology.'

She held her breath and waited for the inevitable laugh of derision most everyone, aside from her friends and father, had given at the thought. Women studying medicine was no longer a strange occurrence, but pathology itself was a field few women pursued. Maude Abbott, however, had played a large role in building Molly's confidence in her choice of study. The physician's research and her zealous pursuit of knowledge had inspired Molly.

Molly was at peace with her decision. But for some reason, she dreaded hearing Sherlock's mockery of her choice of study. They had been competing for top honors for years, but he'd made no secret that he thought everyone else to be significantly inferior to himself in every way. So, she braced herself for whatever harsh deduction he had for her and how studying Pathology was a foolish decision.

'On the contrary, I think it admirable.'

Molly blinked in surprise and looked up at him.

Sherlock looked down and to the side, almost shyly. 'You have very readable expressions.'

'Oh.' She licked her lips and tried to ignore the way her heart was pounding.

'And I wish you all the best.'

Molly bit her lip and lowered her gaze. 'Thank you.'

They did another turn about the room in silence.

'Have you decided where you are going to study?' Molly asked.

Sherlock hummed a yes. 'I shall be starting at Queen's College next month to study Chemistry.'

Molly stumbled to a halt, her eyes widening. 'You're leaving?!'

Barely aware of Sherlock tugging her out of the way, Molly blindly followed him out into the empty hall. Turning to face her, he ran a hand through his hair.

'I didn't mean to say it so suddenly, but…' He looked down at her with a small smile. 'Yes, I am leaving. I finished my exams last week; though I could have been done years ago, had my parents not insisted I 'try to make friends my own age'.'

Molly swallowed and looked down at her hands, twisting her gloved fingers nervously. A thousand words ran through her mind, but, for once, none would come out.

'Aren't you going to say anything?'

A blush rose in her cheeks and she turned her head, still unable to meet his gaze.

'I don't know what to say.'

He lowered his voice to a soft whisper and stepped closer. 'Maybe that you'll miss me.'

Her breath hitched and she looked up at him. His face was shadowed in the dim light, but she swore she saw his eyes sparkle and soften as he gazed down at her. His lips twisted in a sad smile.

'Of course. Of course I'll miss you,' Molly said, forcing a quiet laugh. 'Who else will I be able to compete with?'

The light in his eyes dimmed and he looked away. 'Right.'

Molly's heart clenched and, without thinking, she reached out for his hand. 'I'm sorry, that didn't come out right. I… I will miss you terribly, Sherlock.'

He squeezed her hand, but his smile seemed forced.

'Will you write to me?' She ventured timidly, trying to undo the damage her thoughtless words had caused.

'As often as I can.' He let her hand go and shoved his hands into his pockets. Jerking his head toward the door, he said, 'You'd better be getting back. I've got to go home. Lots of packing to do.'

'Oh, right.' Molly's heart sunk. 'When do you leave?'

'Friday after next. My parents want me to celebrate the New Year with them. Classes begin the week following and I'll only barely arrive in time to settle in.'

Molly bit her lip. For all outward appearances, he looked fine. But she could see beneath that bravado and she knew he was as scared of this major step in his life as he was excited.

She smiled reassuringly and leaned up on her tiptoes to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. 'You'll be brilliant, Sherlock Holmes. I know it.'

He stared down at her in surprise. Then, suddenly, he was cupping her cheeks and pressing his lips to hers. Before Molly could realize what was happening, he'd broken away. His nose brushed hers and their breaths mingled as he whispered, 'Merry Christmas, Molly Hooper.'

Then he was gone, striding down the hall and grabbing his coat, before bursting out into the cold, the blustery wind following in his wake.

As the door slammed shut behind him, Molly raised a trembling hand to her tingling lips.

'Merry Christmas…'