Hi guys, I was hoping to finish writing this fic and start posting it a few days back but somehow I just haven't had any time to do any of that. But let's not worry about that now, it's almost finished and I have plenty of time to edit and finish etc. before we get to the final chapters. So, shall we get ourselves in a Christmassy mood?

I have to thank Amyutz for the prompts (which she sent me ages ago) that developed into this story, one of them is the flash-forward that this story starts with.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. After the last two supernatural fics this one is definitely just good old, crime, romance and Christmas fluff.

Chapter 1

John yawned as he made his way into Sherlock's flat. He'd had a very disturbed night, what with everything that had happened recently. He really needed a coffee.

Sherlock meanwhile was still asleep in bed...the bastard. John knew he shouldn't grumble. He'd do the same every day if he was single with no responsibilities, but damn he was jealous.

As the coffee got going he heard movement. A few minutes later Sherlock emerged yawning and brushing his hair out of his eyes. It was that movement that made John notice something unusual.

'What's that?' He said, pointing at Sherlock's wrist.

'What's what John? You need to be more specific.'

John pushed off the kitchen side and made his way over for a closer look. 'That mark on your wrist?'

He couldn't help but notice that Sherlock seemed somewhat embarrassed, quickly shrugging his dressing gown so it fell further down his arm, covering said mark. It didn't stop John from spying that he had a similar red indent on the other arm.

'If I didn't know better Sherlock, I'd say those marks had been made by handcuffs. Did you get arrested? You said you were coming back here when you left last night, what the hell did you do?'

Sherlock huffed. 'No, I wasn't arrested. I didn't leave the flat.'

'But they are handcuff marks?' John tried to take hold of Sherlock's wrist but the taller man pulled it out of his grasp.

'Yes, goddammit they're handcuff marks. Does it really matter?'

John snorted, and made his way back over to the coffee machine to pour them both a cup, he was starting to wonder though if he wouldn't need something stronger.

'Yes it matters. Don't tell me you were experimenting on yourself, I've told you before you'll end up tied up and unable to get yourself out of it. God knows what Mrs Hudson might find when she comes up here one of these days.'

Sherlock rolled his eyes and took his coffee from John's outstretched hand, then the two of them made their way into the front room.

'For your information I got them...' Sherlock cleared his throat. 'I got them recreationally.'

John was aware his eyebrows had almost shot off the top of his head on hearing that line. His mind boggled.

'Recreationally?'

Sherlock turned on him. 'Do you have to add a question mark onto everything I say this morning?'

John chuckled. 'Yes, I think I do. So you're telling me you had handcuffs on last night... recreationally?'

Sherlock looked nervous again and just nodded.

'And what exactly does recreational mean to you? Because to the rest of us that implies something sexual.'

Sherlock sat down in his chair and scowled. 'And why would you think it would mean anything different to me?'

John laughed outright at that. 'Because you're Sherlock Bloody Holmes, you don't do sexual, you're married to your work, remember.'

John tilted his head, having a sudden thought. 'So, hang on, are you saying you weren't alone?'

His friend groaned and closed his eyes, but seemed to come to some sort of decision.

'Yes John, that's exactly what I'm saying.'

So, Irene was here?'

At that Sherlock snorted. 'You see John, but you don't observe. Irene was a challenge, an intriguing puzzle, but if you think I'd be mad enough to put my trust in her, to have serious feelings for her, you're more stupid than I ever thought you were.'

John sighed. 'Yeah, thanks for that. Wait...so you have feelings for whoever you were with?'

Sherlock nodded thoughtfully. 'Yes, yes I do and I think it's about time I really told her.'

'So come on then, put me out of my misery. Who is it?'

He saw a small smile play across Sherlock's face and it told him more about his friend's feelings for this mystery woman than anything else had. He found himself leaning forward in his chair in anticipation.

'It's Molly...Molly Hooper.'

Four weeks earlier

Molly glanced out of the window of her front room and sighed. It felt as if the weather matched her mood, as she watched the rain drizzling down her window, and the grey clouds beyond. She'd been hoping to go out for a few drinks with friends that evening, but at the last minute it had been cancelled, and now she had nothing of interest to look forward to...just a long, lonely weekend and shit weather.

Toby curled around her ankles, meowing, and she bent down picking him up. He immediately butted her chin with the top of his head, starting to purr, and she smiled as she scritched his cheek.

'Ah well Toby, looks like it's just you and me again this evening. What do you fancy for your dinner because I'm thinking pizza?'

A couple of hours later and her order was due to be delivered. She'd found a film to watch on Netflix and she'd cracked open a bottle of her favourite Merlot; all in all, she was feeling much happier about her lonesome evening. At least staying home meant she could wrap up in her favourite but deeply unflattering pyjamas, and with the added bonus of not having the hassle of doing her hair and make-up.

The doorbell rang and she buzzed in the pizza guy without checking. She knew she ought to but after all, who else was going to be coming around at eight o'clock on a Friday evening in late November.

It was, therefore, a complete surprise when she opened her door to find Sherlock, just making his way up the stairs, and carrying what looked to be her pizza.

'What? How are you here? And is that my pizza?'

Sherlock held up the large, flat box and glanced at it.

'Given the size of it Molly I'd say it's safe to say it's our pizza. I do hope you weren't planning on eating this all yourself.'

She scowled and muttered something about left overs the following day, but she stood back and let him in. It had been a few weeks since all that business with his sister, and she really hadn't seen that much of him, so it was almost a pleasant surprise.

As she followed him through to her kitchen, she couldn't resist challenging him further.

'Anyway, how do you know I wasn't planning to share this with someone else? Maybe I'm expecting a date.'

He smirked and raised an eyebrow. 'Wearing those pyjamas...I think not.'

And just like that Molly remembered she was in her favourite but ratty Snoopy pyjamas. She folded her arms across her chest feeling more than a little embarrassed.

'So, once again, why are you here?'

Sherlock placed the box down on the side, and leant against the kitchen cupboards as he slowly removed his gloves, shoving them into the pocket of his coat. For the first time he seemed nervous...reluctant? Molly wasn't quite sure which, but she certainly felt more curious.

'Maybe we can have the food first...and I could join you in a glass of wine?'

She was in no mood to throw him out, so she relented, getting down a couple of plates and pouring him some of the wine. A few moments later, they were sat side by side on her settee as they ate the food and exchanged some small talk.

Molly asked after his family, and heard that Sherlock's parents were still struggling to come to terms with the fact that his sister was, and had been, alive for the last twenty years without their knowledge.

'And you? How are you coping? I can't imagine what it must have been like, to find out you had a sibling you had no memory of.'

Sherlock sighed and picked up his wine, taking a deep draught before speaking.

'I find I'm most disconcerted by the fact that I can't trust my own memories, my own brain. I hid this from myself...what else am I hiding or repressing?'

He shifted his plate, putting it down on the coffee table even though he'd only eaten half his food, and Molly sensed that he was ready to tell her why he was there. She felt a sudden prickle of nerves and she mirrored him, putting her own plate down.

'What is it Sherlock?'

'I...I don't want to be like her.' His voice seemed to crack with emotion. It had Molly leaning towards him and putting her hand on his arm.

'You're not Sherlock. I know I've never met her, but from what I've heard, you couldn't be less like her.'

'But I've tried to be. I've spent my whole life trying to be cold and logical and emotionless, to rise above human needs and desires...and yet, when I was confronted with someone who was the perfect embodiment of that I...'

He sighed again and closed his eyes as he gathered his thoughts. When he opened them again, he looked directly at Molly and she felt caught by the intensity of his gaze.

'I don't want to suppress my feelings any longer, but I don't know how to change...I don't know how to...to love.'

Molly shook her head and smiled. 'Of course you do, you love John and Rosie, and Mrs Hudson. You loved Mary. You showed them how much by the way you tried to protect them over the last few years...by your actions.'

'No, you misunderstand me Molly. That's platonic love, I'm comfortable with that. And I know familial love...I know I love my parents and even Mycroft. I'm talking about romantic love.'

Molly felt her stomach swoop, and all of a sudden she could feel her heart hammering in her chest. 'Oh.'

'I...I want to...to try to experience it.'

Molly slowly nodded her head, but inside she felt a complete mix of emotions. She had no idea where he was heading with this, and she certainly wasn't thinking that this would be with herself, she was definitely in the friend zone. She thought she'd made peace with that...so why was this conversation making her heart thump and her words stick in her throat?

'OK, it isn't really something you can just try on and then discard Sherlock. Either you feel attracted to someone or you don't. Have you ever felt attracted to anyone?'

She felt like she was holding her breath as she waited for his answer, knowing when it came she would be crushed by it.

'If you mean physical attraction I suppose I felt it with Irene Adler. There haven't been many women that I've had a physical response to, but I remember definitely feeling it with her and...and...'

Molly swallowed down her disappointment. 'Well, that's a start. So, why have you come to me?'

Sherlock frowned. 'I would have thought that was obvious Molly.'

'I suppose you want me to give you some advice...how to go about dating or something? After all, you don't have that many female friends. But, you know what to do don't you? I mean, I know John said it was fake but you dated Janine.'

She swore she saw Sherlock roll his eyes and grimace a little. 'That was more of a paint by numbers thing. It's easy enough to watch a few films or tv shows and work out what is expected in any given situation, but I never felt anything for her beyond friendship. Interacting with her on a physical level was...well, more of a clinical exercise...an experiment. I didn't feel any desire for her and that's what I want to let myself experience. I want to be with someone who I feel something for...I want to see if I can be physical with someone, sexual even.'

Molly felt an infinite sadness for him. Being with someone should be so easy, simple human nature. She wanted to help him so much, but she was still very confused about what exactly he wanted. She also knew this could tear her apart, helping him to be with someone else. She pushed that pain away for now, trying to concentrate on him. He was her friend; he'd come to her for help, and she would give him as much as she could.

'Alright, I suppose we have to start with you being open to being attracted to someone. I know John said that you're still in touch with Irene so maybe you should start there.'

He frowned and shook his head. 'No, she's in the past, and anyway I could never trust her. Not then and not now. She isn't who I want.'

Molly nodded her head. 'OK, so who then?'

He frowned and looked her in the eye again. 'I don't think you understand Molly. I've come to you because it's you. You're the woman I want a relationship with.'

And we're straight to the point, in chapter 1. I know…that's not very like me…it's normally slow, slow burn but believe you me there will be bumps along the way.

So, are you in?