AN: Little known fact, the 12 days of Christmas actually start the day 'after' Christmas and run until Epiphany. So, I'm using that to justify the fact that the story will run through the next few days as I get caught up. This one was a bit of a struggle and not as humorous as I would have liked. Don't give up though, I haven't lost the humor, it's just been delayed for a little while. - CG


12th December

Sherlock looked down at his mobile. 7:02 pm. He wouldn't be surprised if Molly didn't call today. She very likely had a substantial hangover. Additionally, she had to work a half shift today. It would be tomorrow before she called. If she called. Molly had been incredibly upset with him and he admitted he deserved it.

What are you asking forgiveness for? Lying or leaving or for coming back?

Her words were haunting him and since he arrived home last night, Sherlock had been trying to come up with a suitable answer. Of course he was apologizing for leaving. More than that, though, he wanted to apologize for hurting her. But no kiss was going to make amends for that. He needed to do something more. What could he do to make her listen to him? It was time to seek advice from someone more experienced in women and apologies. He sent a text to both John and Lestrade.

Both men brought food and drink with them when they came in. Lestrade brought pizza and beer, John had a shepherd's pie and cider. Apparently, they both thought this discussion was going to take some time. Sherlock was appreciative, still limping around his flat meant meals consisted of whatever was in his cupboards. There wasn't much.

"Have to admit, never thought I'd be here, having this conversation," Lestrade began, finishing his second beer.

"I didn't ever think I'd be in this situation," Sherlock confessed. Alcohol was apparently loosening his tongue as well as it had Molly's. He would need to be careful, he thought, as he poured another glass of cider.

"And what exactly is the situation?" John asked. He wondered if Sherlock was going to really be honest with them about his feelings for the pathologist or if he only wanted advice on how to get out of the awkward situation of last night's public humiliation.

"Last night, Molly was quite clear about the fact that I have hurt her. Countless times in the past, not the least of which was the last Christmas we spent together. I have been trying to apologize to her for that this year. However, something always keeps me from being successful."

"That's what you said last week," John added. "You attempted to decorate her flat."

"You?! Decorating? I would have paid to see that," Lestrade laughed. "She didn't like it?"

"She was allergic." Sherlock was beginning to doubt the wisdom of inviting these two over. "Do either of you have any useful advice or is mocking and drinking going to be the bulk of it. I got plenty of that last night."

"Ah, yeah." John took another swig of cider, "What happened last night?"

"I promised I would not say," Sherlock answered, sipping from his own drink.

"Then how are we supposed to help?" Lestrade asked.

"I can extrapolate from the basics. What would you do to apologize to a woman?"

"Depends on how you feel about her," John replied. Anticipating the glare from his best friend regarding the mere mention of 'feelings,' he continued. "How I apologize to my sister is vastly different from how I apologize to Mary."

"Most women like flowers," Lestrade contributed, killing his third beer and contemplating a fourth. Amazing how much easier talking to Sherlock was when he used alcohol to knock the edge off.

"But Molly isn't like other women. This has to be special, she deserves it." Sherlock found himself protesting. He looked at his glass of cider. It was empty for the...third, no fourth time this evening. Maybe he should slow down.

"Maybe start with that," John said. "Tell her how you feel. Be honest. I know it's hard for you, but like you just said, she deserves it." He drained his glass, knowing that was the end of the conversation. Sherlock's eyes had already glazed over. Lestrade recognized it as well and the two older men let themselves out.

Molly was curled up on her sofa at the end of what had been a very long day. Waking up hungover and discovering Sherlock wanted to talk had certainly put her on edge. Throughout the entire day she had been jumpy. She blamed the two broken test tubes today on her nervousness about talking with him, expecting him to confront her at the lab. Maybe it would be better to just pretend like it hadn't happened. That way nothing would change in their friendship. She had embarrassed herself enough, didn't need a repeat of three years ago.

That's exactly what she'd do. She'd text him, thanking him for making sure she got home safe but asking to never speak of it again. Whatever it had been. That would be the end of it. But just as she reached for her phone, the screen lit up.

Please come to dinner. Tomorrow 8pm. Baker Street.

Oh no. She had just decided not to talk about it. The last thing she was going to do was agree to a dinner specifically arranged to talk about it.

Thank you, but I think we should just forget last night ever happened.

You were right, though. Let me try to make it up to you.

I don't remember what I said, but I'm sure I wasn't right about anything.

Don't argue. Just come to dinner.

Molly sighed. It was too late at night and she was too tired to keep arguing. Maybe she'd find a way out of dinner sometime tomorrow. Leaving his last text unanswered, Molly muddled through her evening routine cursing the ability of alcohol to inspire one's confidence while inhibiting one's good judgement. Little did she know, it had the same effect on consulting detectives.

End Day 12 - Cider