Sherlock stirs, his mind foggy and his eyes heavy. For a moment he can't even remember falling asleep; or did he pass out? Groaning a bit and rubbing the sleep from his eyes he sees a flash of baby pink out of the corner of his eye. Finally coming into the reality of his surroundings, he takes in the blanket and pillow nest, the dirty dishes, the somehow muted telly, and of course a gorgeously disheveled and nude Molly Hooper asleep next to him within the array of blankets and pillows, one soft baby pink blanket draped over her lower half. Her face is nuzzled deep into a pillow as she sleeps soundly on her stomach, her other arm pinned under her body. Sherlock gently brushes hair from her face and smiles gently, remembering the lovely night of intimacy they had the night before. He leans down and presses a soft kiss to her cheek before spotting his boxers on the floor a few inches away and slipping them on, quietly moving into the kitchen.

Molly had made Sherlock breakfast on more than one occasion, and she is usually up before him. Therefore, this is a great opportunity for him to do the same. Or at least attempt to; he wasn't as great of a cook as Molly was. Glancing at the calendar, he sees today's date, December 8th, circled in green. He ponders what that could mean as he put on the coffee maker and begins to crack a few eggs into a pan; his weak attempt at an omelet.

A few moments later, Molly stirs, the sizzling and smell of eggs in the pan wafting over and waking her senses, bringing her back to the realm of consciousness. She groans softly as she stretches, a rosy blush coming to her cheeks when she realizes the state she is in, and she pulls the blanket over herself, covering her breasts. "Breakfast smells good", she says softly.

"Really? Oh good I must be doing something right then. How are you feeling? I know we didn't expect to fall asleep on the floor last night."

Molly smiles shyly, blushing more. "Yeah…unplanned but, still pleasant."

"Pleasant?"

Laughing she stands up and walks over to where he is in front of the oven, holding the blanket around her body like a towel. "Alright, more than pleasant. How about /pleasurable/?"

"Getting there", he teases.

"Hm…alright Mr. Holmes. Last night was fantastically mind-blowing", she giggles.

Sherlock grins and leans down, pecking her lips gently. "That's much better, Doctor Hooper. Now I suggest you go and slip into some comfy clothes so we can eat before we shower."

"Oh, so is this a thing now, then? /We/ shower?"

"If you want it to be, I won't complain", he smirks devilishly.

Molly snorts and waves him off sarcastically, walking down the hall to her bedroom and putting some sweats and a t-shirt on. Returning to the kitchen, she leans on the island and watches him, a content smile upon her lips. He smirks at her.

"Yes, Margaret?"

"Ew! I told you NEVER to call me that, ugh."

He laughs and shrugs. "Alright, alright. I get it. It's like when my father calls me William", he shudders.

Molly grins and shrugs. "I don't know, I think William is a nice name. It's just not…you. You know?"

"Yes, I know. What are you staring at anyway?"

"Oh just the sight of my handsome /beau/ attempting to cook. I should get you an apron."

He covers up his chuckle with a scoff. "Ummm no."

"Oh fine, but I can still stare."

"That's fair. Oh, y the way, why is the date circled in green on your calendar?"

Molly gasps. "Today is the eighth?"

"Yes…why?"

"I have to get my Christmas tree today! Oh, Sherlock we can get one together!", she squeals excitedly.

Sherlock puts on a fake, uncomfortable smile. "Oh…er…"

"Please", Molly pouts, looking at him innocently.

"I'm not…a tree person. You remember the parties at Baker Street. We have one of those small tabletop ones. Space saving and convenient, storable, they don't shed."

"Oh…okay." Her face falls into a look of sadness and he hates making her sad.

Sighing, he plates the omelet and gently pulls her close. "If you really need help getting a tree then fine…I'll go with you."

She beams and throws her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. "Ohh good. I know you are still learning how to deal with sentiment and all that, but it's Christmastime. I want to spend the happy events with you. I want to decorate it with you and kiss near the twinkly lights. I have this gorgeous, frosted glass angel tree topper from my grandmother as well."

Sherlock smiles fondly at how happy she looks just talking about it and supposes that it can't be too tedious if it makes Molly that cheery. He hands her a plate and gets them both some coffee. Molly grins and pops a few pieces of toast I the toaster for them. Sherlock grabs some cereal and sits on the sofa. Molly joins him moments later with her breakfast and some toast for him.

Molly hops out of her car and gazes up at the rows of Christmas trees. She grabs Sherlock's hand and pulls him along, looking for the most perfectly green, plump, evenly sized, and healthiest one. They walk down rows and rows and Sherlock sighs, getting a bit irritated with how crowded it is. Suddenly Molly gasps.

"That one is PERFECT! I need that one Sherlock!", she exclaims giddily and childlike. He can't help but smile as she leads him over to where a tall, fat, very green pine tree stands, clustered behind many others. Sherlock assesses the large tree and let's out a breath.

"Molly this tree is more than half your size."

"I know that's why it's perfect!"

"How are you even going to get this in your house?"

"Well I have you to help me."

"Do you even know how heavy this is?"

"I have an idea, but we can do it!", she chirps optimistically.

"Oh boy…well…go get the person who takes the tree to the car then."

Molly nods and rushes over to lead one f the workers to the tree. After many minutes and standing in like for another fifteen, then finally get back into the car and head back to her house. She is thrilled the entire ride home, and Sherlock can't help but enjoy the look of pure joy on her face.

Hours later Sherlock is still shaking pine needles out of his curls as Molly brings the box of lights, tinsel, and ornaments over for them to begin decorating it.

"Getting a damned tree into a stand should NOT take that long, Molly!"

"I know, I'm sorry. I forget how temperamental it can be." She wraps her arms around his waist and nuzzles his chest. Dipping his head, he kisses hers and let's out a comfortable sigh, holding her for the moment.

Molly looks up at him with her warm cocoa eyes and cups his cheek. "Thank you. I know you didn't want to go with me, and…I know I can be too much…"

Sherlock furrows his brow and kisses her, quieting her words. "Shh", he murmurs, pulling away. "I like seeing you happy. It's alright. Now let's get decorating huh?"

A grin spreads across her face and she nods, beginning to twirl the lights around the tree. Sherlock, of course, helps her with the top part of the tree that she cannot reach. Then they add some silver and red tinsel. Lastly, together they hang a multitude of ornaments. Molly seemingly sentimental of each and every one, and Sherlock being understanding and listening to the stories that go with them.

Once they are all hung in the perfect place, Molly very carefully takes out her grandmother's delicately beautiful angel tree topper and looks up at the tree, huffing. A mischievous grin comes to her face and she glances at Sherlock.

"Ohhh Sherlock!?"

"Yes, Molly?"

"I need you to lift me up so I can out this on."

He raises an eyebrow and quirks his head. "Molly my muscles are still burning from carrying most of the weight of that tree."

She pouts. "I'm not that heavy, am I?"

"What? No! No, of course you're not."

She chews her lip and bats her eyelashes at him, which he groans at in response. "Ugh, fine. You are impossible."

"Good, we are even then."

He chuckles and lifts her up carefully as she sets the angel pristinely on top of the tree. Sherlock lowers her into his arms bridal style, and she gasps, giggling, before the two share a perfect kiss near the twinkling lights of Molly's Christmas tree.