Christmas was different that year.
They were both far too aware that it could be his last.
Mrs Hudson didn't even bother with their usual routine of fighting them about getting a tree in the flat, and she even helped decorate it.
Sherlock 'supervised' (his words, not John's), which meant he lazed about on the couch, criticizing their work.
When it was all said and done, the flat looked quite Christmasy, stockings hung on the fireplace, Christmas cards laid out, and even Billy was adorned with a stocking hat.
Sherlock had muttered about how hats were useless for skulls, since they were meant to keep in body heat, and since Billy didn't have a body, there was no point. Mrs Hudson threw a pillow at him as he said that.
He pouted until she made him a cup of gingerbread tea.
"Does Molly know?"
Sherlock glanced up at him. "Why should she?"
John stared at him. "Because she's our friend. Because she likes you a lot, even if it's unrequited. Because she deserves to know, rather than find out later when it's too late for her to come to terms with it."
"You mean when I'm dead."
John sighed. "Or something along those lines."
Sherlock shrugged. "If you wish to tell her, I wouldn't be opposed to it. But I'm certainly not going to do it. She'd be worse than Mrs Hudson."
And indeed, Sherlock had struggled with Mrs Hudson. After John had told her, and they'd finished speaking, she had marched upstairs, demanded he stop reading 'that silly book' and give her a hug.
John had found the scene far more amusing than he should have, Sherlock's arms awkwardly wrapped around Mrs Hudson as she tried not to cry.
He'd embraced her before, and it had been more natural then, but John supposed the sheer amount of emotions and unspoken words forced something between them. Pity.
Perhaps the tears would melt it.
He headed off to the kitchen to make tea, which somehow had managed to help.
Sherlock was right. Molly would be just as bad.
John sighed. "I'll invite her around for a cuppa then. You can be out if you want, but you will have to talk to her eventually, and it might be best if you didn't save it for the Christmas party."
Sherlock glanced up. "Christmas party?"
John looked at him. "It's been mentioned before. Recall tree decorating? Mrs Hudson and I were discussing who to invite, and when we asked you, your only reply was a humming noise, which we took to mean you didn't care who we invited."
Sherlock frowned. "So who's coming?"
"Lestrade and Molly. And Mrs Hudson of course."
Sherlock nodded. "Will there be a girlfriend of the month?"
John glared at him. "Not likely."
"I was only asking."
John sighed, but texted Molly, inviting her over the next day.