Mary

In the living room, I could hear Sherlock playing Christmas melodies on his violin. I smoothed the skirt of my new dress one more time, looking at the glittering snowflakes in the mirror attached to the wardrobe door. I glanced at the three small boxes I'd arranged together on the bed. John's present had been wrapped in blue, Mrs. Hudson's was wrapped in emerald green, and Sherlock's was wrapped in a bright gold that matched the embroidery on the scarf inside the box. As I examined my small gifts, my nerves began to fray, and I opened the door to Sherlock's bedroom just wide enough to peek outside. Mrs. Hudson, John, a tall, authoritative looking woman who I could only assume was Jeanette, and Lestrade sat quietly, drinks in hand, listening to Sherlock play. Gifts sat in piles beneath the tree, and everyone wore Christmas sweaters. Oh God, I thought, I'm completely overdressed. I decided I'd have to change. I closed the door as quickly and quietly as I could. Just as I got a hold of the zipper, there was a knock on the door.

"Mary? Are you alright in there?" John asked quietly. For a moment, I stood completely still, not making a sound and hoping he'd think I wasn't in there.

"The only way you could have left is through the window, and I'm pretty sure I would have heard. The whole street would have heard. Let me in."

I groaned, pulling the door open just enough for John to slip through. He shut the door behind him and looked me over. "What's wrong?"

I crossed my arms over my stomach, giving him an assured smile. "Nothing! Nothing's wrong."

He narrowed his eyes at me, waiting for my smile to falter. "Liar."

I pushed my lower lip out in an exaggerated pout. "I'm fine. I just...I feel...silly. Overdressed. Just...stupid."

"Overdressed? Why would you feel that way?"

I directed my gaze down at my emerald green heels and back up at John. I held out my hands, trying to emphasize the issue.

John stared at me blankly. "I...I don't...Look, it doesn't matter. You look gorgeous, alright?"

I felt my face light up involuntarily. "I do?"

"No one puts together an outfit like that unless they expect to look nothing less than perfect," John replied.

My brow creased in confusion. "Um. I don't know how to take that, so I'll just take it as a compliment."

"Good! It was meant as one."

I exhaled, crossing my arms in my lap. "I guess I'm just nervous. I'm a little bad at meeting new people."

John scoffed. "No you're not. You're the PR person. If you're nervous, consider this...on the job training."

"Training," I repeated. "Yep. That helped. Way to pep talk, Watson."

John sighed. "Sorry. I'm not good at this whole comforting thing," he said helplessly. After a moment of thought, he rummaged in his pocket. "Maybe this will help," he offered, pulling out a small box.

I looked at the box and then up at him. "Um. John. I love you to death and all, but uh. I don't know if our relationship is ready for all that," I joked.

"Haha. Very funny. If you're going to be an arse about it, I can just take it back-"

"No! No, I'm sorry. I like getting gifts," I protested, taking the tediously wrapped box from his hand. "Can I open it now?"

"That's why I gave it to you."

"Yay!" I squeaked, tearing into the paper. Once I'd unwrapped it, I opened the box to find a pair of intricate snowflakes, molded out of silver with immense detail. Slender hooks extended from the tops of them, making them a delicate pair of earrings. I stared at them wordlessly for long enough to make John worry.

"Do...you not like them?" he asked. I could hear disappointment in his voice.

I clutched the box tightly as I threw my arms around his neck. "They're awesome!" I said excitedly. "I love them! Seriously. Thank you."

John seemed caught off guard by the show of affection. His ears turned the slightest shade of pink, and he smiled at the ground. "You're welcome. Hey, does this mean that I-"

I cut him off, holding the blue box out to him. "Open it now before your girlfriend sees," I joked.

He grinned, pocketing the box. "I think I'll save it. Besides, the party's still waiting on you."

I scowled. "Dangit. You saw through my master plan. Alright, let me put these on. You'd better get back to the party before they start to wonder who kidnapped you."

John gave me a suspicious look. "Alright," he replied, "but if you're not out there right after me, I'm coming back."

"Yes, sir," I answered, shooing him out the door and returning to the mirror.

A few moments later, I took a deep breath and entered the living room with Mrs. Hudson and Sherlock's gifts in hand. As I entered, Sherlock had just finished a piece, and I could hear him speaking with Mrs. Hudson about it.

"Oh, that was lovely Sherlock. I wish you could have worn the antlers," she said.

Sherlock smiled modestly, possibly for the first time since I met him, and replied, "Well, Mrs. Hudson, some things are better left to the imagination."

I stepped on a creaky floorboard, and suddenly all attention was on me. As the room fell silent and I felt a wild blush creeping up my neck, I briefly considered taking John's earlier idea and jumping out the window headfirst. Before I could give into the bolting instinct, Mrs. Hudson smiled at me.

"Oh my! Mary, you look positively beautiful," she expressed, beaming at me before looking up at Sherlock. "Doesn't she look beautiful, Sherlock?" Sherlock met her gaze before turning to study me. He gave me a hard once over, making me blush harder, but I held his gaze, trying my hardest not to look down. Finally, he gave the smallest of smiles, making sure to make direct eye contact with me as he did so.

"Yes. Yes she does," he answered. Finding new confidence, I crossed the room, but held back when John's girlfriend approached Sherlock. She was slender and held an air of authority. She wore a no nonsense dress that screamed teacher, and an expression that told me she wore the pants in the relationship. I took a step back, avoiding her gaze.

"Sherlock. Nice to see you," she said, holding out a hand.

Sherlock held his violin beneath one arm and shook her hand. "Yes, nice to see you too, Sarah."

Immediately, Jeanette's expression sunk into one of irritation. I gasped involuntarily, attracting both parties' attention. I clapped one hand over my mouth, muttering, "Ignore me."

"What is it?" asked Sherlock. Jeanette looked at me expectantly, and John looked just about ready to run for the hills.

I hesitated, unsure of whether or not answering him would cause a fight. "Um...that's not Sarah," I mumbled, biting my lip.

Sherlock looked genuinely confused. "She's not?"

"No, Sherlock, she's not," John repeated, clearly annoyed. "This is-"

"No, no wait! I know this," Sherlock insisted. Behind he and Jeanette, I could see Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson beginning to watch the scene unfolding. "Okay after Sarah, there was the blonde, the one with the spots...Hm. Who came after the boring teacher?" My eyes widened.

"No one," Jeanette replied through clenched teeth.

"Ah! Jeanette. Process of elimination," Sherlock said as he took a seat in front of John's laptop, completely oblivious to the murderous glare Jeanette was sending his way. I brought a hand up to my forehead as John ushered Jeanette to a less irritating conversation with Lestrade. Placing my gifts on the coffee table in front of the couch, I stood between Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson, trying to see what Sherlock was up to.

"Sherlock! Really?! It's friggin' Christmas!" I scolded him, nudging him in the shoulder.

"What's wrong, dear?" Mrs. Hudson asked.

"He's on John's blog! That's my job, remember?"

"Then you haven't been doing your job very well. Oh God no," he said abruptly, rolling his eyes away from the door. I looked up and watched a sort of nervous looking woman enter in a long, black coat. Her hair was pulled back from her face in carefully styled waves, and, by the way Sherlock had reacted, I could only assume that this was Molly. As the other guests greeted her, she began to unbutton her coat, and before she'd even opened it, I knew I wouldn't be the most dressed up person anymore. Beneath the coat, she wore a fitted, black dress with champagne colored rhinestones in a thick border across the neckline. I nearly choked when I saw Lestrade staring at her. In fact, the only person that didn't seem to be staring at her was Sherlock, who seemed very distressed about the blog.

"John! Something's wrong with your blog."

"What do you mean? Nothing's wrong with it. I was on it yesterday," I insisted as John joined us.

"The counter's stuck at 1895, and it's been that way since last night."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh no. Christmas will have to be canceled," I joked.

Sherlock studied the page closer, and a look of outrage crossed his face. "You put up a picture of me wearing that hat?!" he asked in disbelief, glaring at John.

John held up his hands. "Don't look at me. Mary put it up."

"Hey!" I protested.

"Besides," he added, "people like it."

"What?! No they don't. What people?! Mary!" He began to look like a small child throwing a tantrum. I quickly joined Mrs. Hudson on the couch to avoid his hissy fit.

"Wine?" John offered, passing by me.

I waved my hand in a negative gesture. "No thanks. Not a huge wine person."

"How's the hip, Mrs. Hudson?" Molly asked.

"Terrible, dear, but thank you for asking," Mrs. Hudson answered.

Molly smiled. "Don't worry, I've seen worse. But then again, I do post mortems." The room fell absolutely silent. No one seemed to have much of a response to the statement. Molly raised a hand to her lips. "Oh God, I'm sorry."

"Molly, don't make jokes," Sherlock said without looking up. I looked at John, who cleared his throat and addressed Lestrade.

"So Greg. How's the wife?"

"Great! Back at home. Things are going well."

"Still with the P.E. Teacher," Sherlock muttered loudly enough to be heard. John scowled at Sherlock.

Lestrade cleared his throat. "How's Harry?" he asked John.

John raised his glass in a singular toast. "Good. Stopped drinking."

"Nope," Sherlock interjected. I could see irritation forming on John's face, so I tried to dissipate it a bit.

"You know, John? I think I will take that wine now," I hinted, gesturing over to the table by the door. As he left, Sherlock kept talking.

"Oh and have you all noticed? Molly's got a new boyfriend."

"Oh come off it," said Lestrade.

"Take the night off," John mumbled.

"Sherlock, please," said Mrs. Hudson. I simply groaned.

"No really!" he continued, standing up and crossing the room. "She's got a date with him tonight, and she's even gotten him a present. Did no one notice the gift at the top of the bag? Wrapped extremely well, while the others are slapdash at best, and color coordinated with her lipstick, unconscious decision or not. She's even dressed up to take away from her small lips and lacking br-"

He stopped midsentence, and my jaw dropped as Molly's expression told me everything I needed to know.

"Oh my God," I whispered, completely mortified for both of them. I dropped my head into my hands.

After a moment of silence, Molly said in a shaky voice, "You always say such horrible things."

"I...I'm so sorry. Please forgive me."

I looked up, trying to figure out who had just said that. That couldn't have been Sherlock of all people, could it? I asked myself as John handed me a glass of wine. With the entire room watching, Sherlock kissed Molly on the cheek. I began to chug my wine, hoping that, should the evening get any weirder, at least I'd be drunk for it.

A woman moaned passionately, and Molly gasped, making me spit out my drink.

"That-that wasn't me!" she insisted, cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

"No, that was me," Sherlock said.

Lestrade's eyes widened. "It was?!" he asked. The look on his face made me laugh hard enough to nearly fall off the couch. "What? What's so funny?"

"It's...it's a text tone!" I forced out in between peals of laughter. "Oh. Oh my God, that was good. I need to use the bathroom. 'Scuse me."

When I returned from the restroom, Sherlock was missing from the group. I asked John where he'd gone, and John pointed me in the direction of his room. Seeing an opportunity, I grabbed Sherlock's present from the coffee table and approached his room. The door stood slightly open, and I could hear Sherlock speaking in a hushed tone.

"Mycroft, I think you're going to find the woman tonight," he said. I crept closer to the door, struggling to hear what was said on the other side of the line. "No, you don't understand. You're going to find her dead." Another pause. "She held an item that she called her life, her protection." Pause. "Now she's chosen to give that item up." Pause, and then click as he hung up. I came out of hiding, knocking lightly on the door.

"Are...you okay?" I asked hesitantly. Without looking up from the phone in his hand, Sherlock uttered a short, "Yes," and shut the door in my face, startling me enough to make me clutch the gift tightly to my chest. I stood, staring at the door for a moment, unsure whether to persist or not. In the end, I looked down at the gold wrapping paper, drummed my thumbs on it, and placed it on the mantle beside Sherlock's skull before returning to the party.