The First Twenty-Five Days of December

Chapter Ten: Frost

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock.

John was floating on cloud nine.

It didn't matter that he had a busy day at the clinic, making up for missed appointments from Monday.

It didn't matter that his window was covered in frost because the temperature dropped.

In all honesty, it didn't even matter that he slept very little because…well, because of floating on cloud nine.

Even when Lisa picked at him and teased him for being so out of his mind happy, he couldn't even fake a grimace.

Life was superbly perfect at the moment, and it would take something akin to a natural disaster to destroy his mood.

And what made his Saturday even more fantastic was that his shift was over by noon, because the other doctor was in with him, and they went through their patients rapidly. He was out of his office by 12:30, and was only just walking towards the tube when he was stopped by someone shouting his name.

"John Watson! Fancy a pint?"

He looked up to see Greg Lestrade pulled over, his head sticking out of the window. If he wasn't mistaken, Molly Hooper was sitting beside him in the passenger's seat.

"Yes, I'd love a pint!"

And just like that, John was sitting in the back of Lestrade's car, grinning like a fool.

"Is there a reason the two of you are aiming to get pissed before 1:00?"

John, Molly, and Lestrade occupied a booth in the corner of a small and empty pub. John was watching as the two people across from him knocked back their pints quickly, as if they were being timed.

Lestrade answered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Just finished a bloody terrible investigation and I'm rewarding myself with a weekend off and pints with this woman, who saved my arse and basically solved the case."

John lifted an eyebrow and looked at Molly. She blushed beneath the combined compliments and scrutiny and looked at the table. "I don't want to talk about the case."

"But she was brilliant!" Lestrade said, sliding out of the booth. "Another round?"

Molly nodded her head energetically, but John declined, nursing his own beer. He had a feeling he'd be driving Lestrade and Molly home before the end of the day.

As Lestrade meandered over to the bar, John took the time to observe Molly. She looked exhausted, dark circles smudged beneath her eyes, but she was smiling at him now. "How are you?" he asked.

"Exhausted. I've basically been living in my office for two days with Sally Donovan." She fiddled with her cup and sighed. "But the case is done, I'm drinking and with friends, and I don't have to work the rest of the weekend, so I'm fine."

"And," John said, sipping at his drink, "how have you been since I saw you last Friday?" He remembered her bout of crying over her grief and he wanted to make sure she was alright.

"One day at a time…" Molly murmured, offering a smile to John, but he could see it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I've been really stressed with work—this case has been brutal—and I haven't had much time to…evaluate my…feelings on Sherlock so…" she trailed off, biting her bottom lip.

John had the distinct feeling that Molly wasn't being honest with him, but he let the matter slip. Grief made people do things they wouldn't normally do, and he was certain she wasn't self-medicating or hurting herself, so he let the matter drop for now. His main goal was to get her to smile and to see the grin reach her eyes.

He nodded his head, ending the conversation when Lestrade returned to the table with two more pints. "I ordered enough fish and chips to feed a small army, so I hope you're hungry!"

"Great! I'm starving!"

They fell into easy conversation after that, and John tried not to focus too much on Molly's small form across from him. She perked up a bit when after their third drink (and the end of John's first), Lestrade asked, "So how's your friend? The woman you were telling me about the other day?"

"Oh! Mary?" John said, trying to act nonchalant. He smiled at Molly and said, "I met a woman on the tube. She's a music teacher. Bloody brilliant and perfect and I guess we're dating. Nothing…official. We've only been on one official date—"

"Official?" Molly asked, lifting a brow. "What's an official date?"

"This bloke here met this woman and they've been seeing each other without actually going on dates."

Molly still looked skeptical as she turned her gaze from Lestrade to John. John just laughed and said, "I've seen her six or seven times in the past ten days, but we've only been on one date, and it was last night! We've had lunch and texted a bit, but you know…" He shrugged his shoulders, not sure what else he wanted to say.

"Tell me about her!" Molly asked. And John could see a hint of the old Molly Hooper peeking through her exhausted exterior. He leaned closer to the people across from him and began describing Mary, their official and unofficial dates, and his incident without his cane.

John forgot what it was like to manhandle a grown man, but he somehow managed to get a clearly pissed Lestrade into the backseat of his car. Then he helped Molly into her spot in the front, and then crossed over to his side of the car.

He had to do a bit of adjusting to the mirrors and the seat, but other than that, he was comfortable driving Lestrade's car.

"Can you even drive?" Lestrade asked, launching himself between Molly and John. John raised an eyebrow and said,

"Put your seatbelt on." He glanced at Molly. She was already struggling to click her seatbelt. "And of course I know how to drive. There just isn't a point to do it all the time when there are perfectly good cabs, busses, and trains to take around London."

Lestrade grumbled as he threw himself into the backseat and put on his seatbelt. John could distinctly hear him complaining about how he was an officer of the law and didn't need to listen to "bloody army doctors who think they're so cool".

John just tried not to laugh.

It was even harder as Molly tried to have a conversation while also adjusting the heat settings, her coordination a little off. They hadn't even pulled onto the road, and John had a feeling this was going to be a very interesting car ride.

He wasn't wrong. Between the pub and Molly's flat, Lestrade and Molly were reduced to tears at least three times as they laughed and tried to tell jokes to John. He didn't quite understand their jokes, but laughed because their delivery while intoxicated was hilarious.

Once at Molly's flat, John instructed Lestrade to stay in the car, and he happily complied. Then he helped Molly out of the vehicle and to her home. Navigating the stairs was a bit difficult, but Molly was light and not nearly as hard to man handle as Lestrade, so they managed.

John had to unlock Molly's door for her, and then he followed her as she stumbled inside, nearly tripping over her cat. "Toby!" she squealed. "You're prolly hungry…"

"I can feed him if you want me to do it," John said.

"Thanks!" Molly promptly threw herself on her sofa, and John went into her kitchen. After briefly exploring, he found a small tin of cat food and opened it. The cat was trying to eat before John got the tin on the floor. Then he filled his water bowl.

When Toby was set, John filled a large glass with water and left it on the counter. Then he went to her bathroom and rummaged around for paracetamol. He left the bottle beside the glass and then went to Molly. Before he could ask her if she was going to be alright for the rest of the day, his eyes were immediately drawn to a very familiar violin that was resting on her coffee table. "W-why do you have that, Molly?" he demanded. All of Sherlock's belongings should have been locked up in the flat.

Molly opened her eyes and first looked at John, then she followed his gaze to the instrument in question. She sat up slowly and for a moment she was quiet. Then she said, "Oh bollocks."

"Molly?"

"I—I stole it." She was wringing her hands together and refused to look John in the eyes. "I saw Mrs. Hudson on Thursday and I just—I just—don't hate me. I can play Twinkle, Twinkle on it!" She was reaching for it when John snapped from his surprised stupor and carefully stopped Molly from picking up the instrument.

"Maybe when you're sober?" he said, laughing lightly. "And I could never hate you Molly," he said firmly. "People do…we do silly things, don't we?"

Molly looked lost in thought as she replied a few seconds later, "Yes we do…"

After a moment, John remembered that Lestrade was still sitting in the backseat of his car. "Alright, I have to go Molly. Make sure you drink plenty of water—" He stopped as she suddenly procured two bottles of water from between her sofa cushions. "Okay. That's perfectly normal." She just grinned at him. "Anyway, drink that, and sleep. You'll feel—"

"I am a doctor, you know."

John nodded his head. "Of course. Text me if you need anything." He took a step away from her sofa. "Really, Molly, anything. If you need to talk or vent or what have you, I'm always here."

"Thank you John." Molly stumbled from her couch and launched herself at John, wrapping her arms around him tightly. "You're a good person, John Watson."

John chuckled and patted her back. "You are too, Molly Hooper."

She shook her head, but didn't say anything else. At the moment, she was smiling genuinely at him. "I'm very happy you met Mary. She is good for you."

John just nodded his head and Molly slowly dropped her arms. "Get some rest, Molly."

Molly returned to her sofa, and once John was certain she was alright, he left her flat and returned to Lestrade's car.

"Thank you so much. Brilliant afternoon. Glad you didn't crash my car. Gonna be a great night. Football!"

Lestrade all but threw himself onto his sofa, kicking off his shoes and reaching for the remote on his coffee table. John just shook his head and went into the kitchen, getting a large glass of water and digging around in his drawers until he found paracetamol. He returned to the sofa, and Lestrade sat up enough to drink the entire glass before flopping back down. John left the paracetamol but refilled the glass and grabbed a second one just in case.

When the Detective Inspector was comfortable and watching an old football match, John dropped his car keys onto the table beside Lestrade's phone, and bid his farewells before leaving.

He had just enough time to catch the tube back to his flat.

When John got home, he was full of fish and chips and he didn't really want to do much, but he knew he had to get things ready for his sister's visit the next day, so he set to work.

First he collected his spare pillow, duvet, and sheets, and folded them beside his sofa. Then he started his laundry, knowing he needed fresh towels and clean pajamas for the week.

He was glad he cleaned in his bathroom on Wednesday morning, because all it needed now was a quick wipe down. Then John set to work cleaning up his kitchen, checking his groceries, and making a quick grocery list and sticking it to the fridge with a magnet .He made a note to go grocery shopping after work sometime that week.

As he switched his laundry from the washer to the dryer and put in a load of towels, he realized he should give his sister a call before she arrived the next morning.

"Johnny!"

"Hey Harry! I'm just checking in. You're still coming tomorrow, right?"

"Correct! I'm actually packing my bag right now! I'm so excited to see you…little brother!"

"You're about two seconds away from sleeping outside Harriet!"

"Jonathan Watson! Don't you dare threaten me!"

John laughed at how convincingly she sounded like their mother. He began filling his kettle as he said, "Okay Mum."

"I'll be there early. But don't wake up for me, alright? I've got a key, and you need your rest."

"Believe me; I will be enjoying my lie-in tomorrow."

"Great! Well, I'm sorry I have to cut this wonderful phone call short, but I have laundry to finish."

"Yeah me too! Wasn't expecting a lengthy conversation tonight. I'll see you in the morning."

"Night Johnny."

"Night Harry."

John shoved his phone in his pocket and waited for his water to boil. It was still relatively early, but he could feel himself getting into what his sister used to fondly call, "bedtime mode". He was making tea, contemplating changing into his pajamas, and settling in front of the television.

If he went to bed too early, he wouldn't be able to enjoy his lie-in. So John turned off his kettle and focused on finishing his laundry and getting everything ready for his sister's visit the next day.

A/N: Hello! First posting for today! Thanks for reading! :)