Molly
How did Sherlock identify The Woman by not her face? The idea bothered her somehow and she forced herself to ignore the feeling. Of course he'd have been with a dominatrix, or anyone not her or even remotely like her. Why was that a surprise at all?
Molly watched as Sherlock stormed off after being shown the body. Good that he left as quickly as he arrived because she didn't have time to wallow in self pity and embarrassment at her reaction to Sherlock identifying the body. Why did she tend to show her emotions on her sleeve? Wasn't she over him?
She covered the body and watched as Mycroft followed Sherlock, and then paused at the door to bid her goodbye.
"Farewell, Molly," he said, his eyes meeting hers with intention, and a thoughtful look on his face as he studied her.
She tried her best to not look so flustered, and to beam him a smile, but simply found herself smiling lightly and reflecting his words to him before he left.
Molly felt… empty, exhausted, and a bought of emotions about the past 48 hours that she needed time to process. It was Christmas after all, and she was only working a half shift. At least she had the remainder of the day, to celebrate however she could, and that likely involved doing her duty calling family members before passing out on her bed for a restful sleep.
—
Molly rested on her sofa, her cell phone on the coffee table and turned off. She wasn't in the mood to answer anymore calls from family wondering why it was that she wasn't coming to visit.
She made the decision after last Christmas's embarrassing incident. Her siblings brought love interests except for her which made her the subject of questions such as "When are you ever getting married?" "I'm hoping for grandkids" and anything under the sun that questioned her singlehood.
She decided she needed a Christmas to herself just this once, away from the prying and concerned eyes of her relatives. She lied to them and provided excuses about work and how she couldn't come down to visit. They gave her a hard time, but later gave up trying to convince her. Molly was relieved. After Sherlock's party, she wasn't ready to make a fool of herself again.
And so she laid there on her side, wrapped in a warm blanket, cuddled next to her was her cat, and she watched a Christmas animated special on television, something to do with a snowman and a reindeer. It was cheerful enough, and she enjoyed mindlessly watching it, trying her best not to think of negative thoughts and simply relax until sleep would take her.
Sleep didn't and she finished watching that movie and another, this time a story about a Grinch who hated Christmas. She was just getting into it until she heard a knock on her door.
Who could that be? She thought. She wasn't expecting visitors or any delivery that late afternoon. Grumbling to herself, she got up, fixed her Christmas sweater and went to the door.
When she opened the door, the driver she recalled from the other night greeted her. He was a man in his 40s with silver hair wearing a black suit and tie, just as he did the prior night. It was safe to assume he was Mycroft's valet.
A surprised expression was all Molly could give when the valet handed her a medium golden gift bag with a red bow, and a card in a red envelope.
"This is for you, Ms. Hooper, courtesy of Mr. Mycroft Holmes."
She looked down at the gift bag and envelope, which she tucked into the bag. "Uh… thank you… I mean please thank him for me, he didn't have to provide a present or anything."
The valet gave her a nod, and a quick smile. "I shall tell him, miss." He made a move to turn around to return to his car which was parked not too far from her home. Could Mycroft be in that car? If so, why didn't he come to her and present the gift to her?
"Wait, uhm… Mr…?"
"You can call me Graves, miss."
"Mr. Graves, is Mycroft with you? I'd love to thank him in person."
The valet shook his head, "He is not Ms. Hooper, although he sends his well wishes."
Molly felt her cheeks flushed. Why would she even think he'd be there in person? They hardly knew each other, and she expected him, someone of importance to the government, probably living a posh life… spending it with his family… to visit her? She was just a pathologist who helped him with a case and maybe a consultant in the future. Nothing more.
But… Why did she find it within herself to ask for Graves to stick around and wait for her at the front door? She did just that, rushing back into her home, placing the present on the living room table, as she looked for a blank Christmas Card that she could write a note in.
She hurriedly scribbled a note in the card addressed to Mycroft and sealed it in an envelope. A few minutes later she handed it to the valet who gave her a peculiar look.
"Please give that to Mycroft as a thank you!"
——
Molly found herself not long after opening the present she received. The thoughtfulness made her smile, as it truly wasn't necessary.
She carefully removed the green tissue paper from the gift bag, revealing a bottle of expensive red wine, and a colorful box of high-end truffles. Next to it was the red envelope which she took out of the bag and opened.
The card was a colorful one, a scenic snowy image of pine trees decorated with various ornaments and a Happy Christmas embossed in golden cursive on the left hand corner.
She opened the card and was surprised to find a personal note— she had expected it would simply be his signature under a standard greeting card blurb, but it wasn't. She was also not expecting 2 tickets to some concert to fall from it.
She sat back on the couch with the card in hand, and wine and chocolate forgotten as she read the note written in what appeared to be his handwriting.
"Dear Molly,
I hope that you enjoy this present as a mere token of my gratitude. Have a Merry Christmas.
Until we meet again,
Mycroft Holmes"
It was short and sweet, and made her smile. She was glad she gave him a card, and hoped that it also brought a smile to his face. He seemed quite thoughtful, and she liked that about him. It was unexpected, especially with his quiet and serious demeanor. Molly wondered if she had him all wrong.
She picked up the tickets that had fallen. They were two tickets to an Ansel Adams photography expedition, a limited opening event that was several weeks away. Based on the ticket it looked like an evening event of wine and music, along with a limited showing of the famous photographer's work.
How did Mycroft know Ansel Adams is my favorite photographer? She asked herself, feeling in her gut that Mycroft was very intentional with such a gift.
She placed the tickets back on the table, and wondered if this was something Mycroft had deduced from her. Then she remembered that at her desk in the lab, she had a framed black and white photo taken by Ansel Adams of mountains and large boulders in the desert, littered by the alien-looking form of many Joshua trees. It was such a unique scene that Molly thought it looked like an alien planet, and was something she truly loved and wished to one day visit in person.
During days of frustration, she'd glance at that photo as a reminder that once summer came she was going to force herself to take a proper vacation and leave the country. She wanted to get out of the London mug and explore the interesting landscape of the Joshua Tree National Park, and disconnect from the world and disappear into its desert landscape. No one paid much attention to it or ever asked her about it. Mycroft didn't mention it either in the time during the autopsy and the breaks they'd taken.
Mycroft likely had studied her workstation before she arrived. He probably already knew more about her than she'd like, especially if he was similar to Sherlock. Regardless of how he did it, it was still one of the most thoughtful presents she received.
She stared at the tickets, there were two and she was uncertain who she could possibly take with her. She didn't have any close friends who shared her same interest; she didn't really have any in London to be fair. Most of her close friends were in Manchester, along with her family members and siblings. She had her work acquaintance, although she was certain they were the last people she'd want to invite to go with her. Most of them had partners, and also she didn't want to see them outside of work when she practically saw them almost every day of the week.
She sighed, as she opened the box of truffles and popped one in her mouth. It was dark chocolate—her favorite—and its richness and bitterness was something she enjoyed. For a moment she forgot how alone she truly felt, as she allowed herself to envision a new version of herself and her life in the upcoming new year.
——
Mycroft
Mycroft returned home from his parent's home where he ate an early Christmas dinner with them and his brother Sherlock. It had been amicable, as the brothers behaved themselves and made sure discussion at the table was lighthearted for the sake of their parents.
When the dinner ended, both Sherlock and Mycroft walked away with matching cashmere sweaters—a Christmas tradition— and a peck on the cheek and a "one day you'll both bring home a lady" quote from their mother. Mycroft bit his tongue, and simply nodded. He loved his mother and knew that as his parents grew older, and he and Sherlock as well, that the want of a daughter in law and grandkids would be in their thoughts.
He didn't want to break it to his parents that he was unlikely to ever get married, as his work kept priority. There was also the fact that he hadn't met a woman yet who piqued his interest or who would agree to his line of work, and it's ambiguities.
Well, he'd like to think so, until a memory of Molly Hooper came to mind, as he entered his home after being dropped off. He had every intention to not delve into her mystery and the interesting attraction he had for her uniqueness. That of course changed when his valet handed him a red envelope.
From Molly Hooper
To Mycroft Holmes
"Curious," he thought as he opened the card. It was a colorful picture of an orange tabby cat wearing a Santa Claus hat and words below saying "Cheers and Merry Christmas!"
Somehow it was exactly the kind of card he expected she'd have in bulk to hand out to friends and family. He was neither, and so the meaning behind her giving him a card, he was certain was due to his present to her.
He opened the card and read the beautifully scrawled message. A smile formed on his lips as he read it.
Dear Mycroft,
Thank you for the thoughtful gift. I've yet to open it as I'm writing this before Graves gets impatient and leaves!
Whatever it'll be, it has brightened my day and I appreciate the kind gesture.
I hope you have a wonderful Christmas and New Year!
Warm Regards,
Molly Hooper
Mycroft's smile widened as a feeling he hadn't felt in years hit him.
"Fascinating," he said out loud.
He was attracted to Dr. Molly Hooper.
End of Part 1