DECEMBER

'Fitton Tower, this is Mike Tango Alpha, inbound from Paris requesting clearance to land.'

'Ay, MARTA! Good to see you flying around up there. Couldn't find yourself a man-plane in Paris then?'

'Guillermo,' Sherlock snapped at the ATC's second in command. The man was a jokester and constantly driving Sherlock's sanity to the edge; but there was no one else, aside from Anthea, at ATC that would take their single airplane airline seriously. Or even semi-seriously. 'Just put us in the queue and shut up.'

The silver-haired ATC commander was good-natured and always took Sherlock's jabs with either a fond sigh or a hearty joke. 'Weeell, I could put you in the back of the queue. Or I could put you in the front… if Sherlock sings me a happy Christmas song.'

John guffawed beside him, ignoring Sherlock's quelling glare.

'Absolutely not,' Sherlock bit out.

'Aw, not even one little chorus of Jingle Bells,' Lestrade prodded. John, noticing Sherlock's normally low level of tolerance was depleted, and wanting to not be barred from landing at Fitton for the rest of eternity, cut in before Sherlock could say anything else.

'Lestrade, if you would just put us in the queue,' he quickly spoke. 'The Captain's had a bit too much holiday this year.'

'Understood.' The ATC officer complied. 'Take two circuits and you are cleared to land on runway 7.'

Sherlock heaved a breath and gripped the controls tightly. He just wanted to land the damn plane and forget this trip ever happened.

oOo

ONE DAY EARLIER

Rented Hangar in Paris

A rushing white noise filled his ears and he was acutely aware of his heart thumping against his ribs. The words seemed to taunt him.

Merry Christmas, Sherlock. Love, Mollyxxx

Instead of cowering in embarrassment, Molly stood tall and leveled a hurt, righteously angry stare on him.

Sherlock stared down at the beautifully wrapped box and swallowed thickly. He felt the weight of all eyes upon him, most heavily hers, as the silence stretched.

Then, without a word, Molly turned and walked away, the clip of her heels each like a dagger to his heart. Mary shot Sherlock a withering glare before hurrying after her friend.

'Well done, little brother,' Mycroft drawled as he drew up to Sherlock's side. 'In less than ten seconds, you have managed not only to make a fool of yourself, but hurt Miss Hooper far deeper than even I could have expected of you.'

Sherlock ignored the jibe and instead elected to leave the dwindling festivities and sought sanctuary in MARTA's cockpit. Here, in the silence, in the one place he felt most at home, he dropped into his seat and stared at the gift in his hand.

Miss Hooper has love on her mind...compensating for the size of her mouth and breasts...shall we expect a happy announcement soon? Dear ol' Jim waiting at home right now?

He closed his eyes and tried to erase his own horrible words from his memory, but they only seemed to grow louder. What had he been thinking? He kept speaking rubbish until he flipped over the tag and realised that the idiot he thought she had fallen for was not Jim, who apparently had been out of the picture since the 'gay' fiasco. No, the idiot she'd fallen for was Sherlock.

Idiot, indeed.

His hands shook as he undid the ribbon and slid his finger under the wrapping paper, revealing a white box. He frowned, unable to deduce what was inside. A first.

Lifting the lid, his eyes went wide.

Nestled in a cloud of tissue paper was a Captain's hat. Not just any Captain's hat, but a stunning piece of art. The black fabric was clearly of highest quality and the gold braid that stretched around the front was polished to perfection. The embroidered wings were impeccable and Sherlock could not find a single imperfection.

Picking it up reverently, he settled the hat on his head and tugged it down, smiling at its perfect fit.

The shimmer of the gold, glittering ink on the tag caught his eye and he picked up the tag. He brushed his thumb over the words so carefully written. Before he could talk himself out of it, he tucked the tag under the Captain's stripes on his left shoulder.

For safe keeping, he told himself.