A/N: A little T rated Christmas fun just in time for...Halloween? Ah well, the muse knows no seasons! This fic came about after I was reading a story where Sherlock fakes a relationship with Molly when she visits her judgy family for Christmas. Many thanks to Nocturnias for reading it over for me and pronouncing it Good.
"It'll be fine, Molly, you'll see."
Molly gave Sherlock a doubtful look. "I hope so. But it's only been six months since I broke things off with Tom, and my mum's always been against people rushing from one relationship to another. Used to warn me about it all the time when I was younger." She rolled her eyes at the memory. "It was almost ten years after my dad died before she met Charlie, and it was another year after that before she'd agree to go on a date with him! She'll probably make a few pointed comments about us - and don't be surprised if she puts us in separate bedrooms, either!"
Sherlock kissed her. "Then we'll just have to sneak around after everyone's gone to bed." His eyes gleamed with anticipation. "Is there a trellis outside your window?"
Molly gave him a fond but exasperated smile and shook her head. "I have no idea! I've only been here once before, and that was last Christmas."
"Ah yes, of course. With Meat-Dagger."
Molly frowned. "Don't call him that," she scolded. "Definitely not after we get inside." They were loitering in the car, but would have to get moving soon, or someone would come out to check on them.
"Why, were they that fond of Me- Tom?" Sherlock asked, correcting himself at the last second. He'd promised not to call her ex-fiancé that anymore, but sometimes it just slipped out. Or so he claimed. Molly knew darned well he enjoyed winding her up.
"They only met him once," she said with a shrug. "They were happy for me, and Mum said she understood when I told her we'd broken things off now that you were back - well, I didn't say it was because of you but she asked if it was and I wasn't going to lie to her about it," Molly admitted with a sigh.
That conversation had gone surprisingly better than she'd expected it to, but then, she hadn't been in the habit of discussing her private life with her mother even after Charlie had helped the two of them reconcile. Not that they'd had a real falling out; they'd just sort of drifted apart after Molly'd graduated medical school and permanently moved to London.
"No matter what, I'm sure I can handle them," Sherlock assured her with a kiss.
Molly had her doubts, but all she said was, "Right, let's do this, shall we?" as she opened her car door. Sherlock pulled her back for another kiss, then helped her pull their overnight bags and the gifts they'd brought from the boot of her Peugeot and walked with her up to the house.
Their knock was greeted by a shout of "Come inside, we're in the kitchen!" so they did as instructed, leaving their coats and overnight bags in the hall, setting the gifts on the small side table for the moment.
"Hi Mum, Hi Charlie, Merry Christmas!" She gave them each a quick kiss on the cheek as her mum wiped her hands on her apron. The kitchen smelled wonderful; she smelled ginger-nuts baking, mingling with the smells of the roast and veg and gravy in an enticing blend. Her mother had always been a wonderful cook; she'd almost forgotten that, and once again felt grateful to Charlie for helping bring them back together again.
"So nice to see you Molly," her mother replied with a smile. "Merry Christmas to you as well! I hope the drive wasn't too tricky."
"No problems at all," Molly assured her, then turned to Sherlock. Taking a deep breath, she said, "And this is Sherlock. I told you I'd be bringing him, now that we're together."
May as well get that bit out right away, let there be no misunderstandings. She braced herself for any number of reactions from her mum, from disapproval to disappointment to that classic family favorite of 'let's ignore this and maybe it'll go away', but was surprised and a little disconcerted when it was Charlie who spoke first. "Sherlock, is it now? What happened to Tom?"
Before Molly could do more than frown in confusion - she'd told her mother about the broken engagement, hadn't Charlie been told? - her mother swatted her husband on the arm with her dishtowel. "Now, Charlie, we both know the whole 'Tom' thing was just temporary." She beamed at Sherlock. "Don't be so standoffish, Sherlock, give us a hug, we'll be family soon enough!"
Giving Molly a bemused look, Sherlock shuffled forward and gave her mum a somewhat stiff embrace. "Thank you, erm, Mrs. Dean -"
She shook her finger playfully at him. "Oh, we're well beyond 'Mrs. Dean' aren't we? Just call me Madelaine if mum's still too informal for you!"
"Uh…" was all Sherlock managed to get out as he traded another confused look with Molly. Who simply shrugged in a 'go with it' kind of way. "Right, then. Madelaine. Thank you. And you too, Mr. - Charlie?" he finished, his voice lifting into a questioning tone as he held his hand out to Molly's step-father.
Charlie took it with a grin. "Right you are, Sherlock! Charlie it was, Charlie it is, Charlie it'll ever be. Now how about we get you two settled and let my Maddie get back to her baking? She's made ginger nuts, your favorite, aren't they?"
He nattered on cheerfully about the holidays and his wife's fantastic baking skills and the weather while Molly and Sherlock grabbed their overnight bags and headed up the stairs after him. But when he casually mentioned Sherlock's love of dogs and asked how Lilbit was doing, Molly came to a sudden halt, right there on the stairs, causing Sherlock to almost stumble into her.
"Charlie!" she said, her voice rather loud. He turned and glanced down at her with an expression of mild inquisitiveness. "Charlie, Lilbit was Tom's dog."
He glanced over at Sherlock, his face taking on an expression of dawning comprehension. "Oh, right, of course! The dog was Tom's, not Sherlock's. Sorry! Won't muck that up again."
Molly grimaced behind his back as they continued up the stairs. She'd expected this sort of passive-aggressive nonsense from her mum, but not from Charlie! Very disappointing, but nothing she couldn't handle.
At least they weren't being sent to separate rooms, she was relieved to discover. Charlie took them both to the same one she'd shared with Tom last Christmas. She made a bit of a face once she realized that, but she brushed aside her vague feeling of distaste, comforting herself with the reminder that her ex had been so inhibited by being her mother's home that he'd barely even been able to bring himself to kiss her, let alone 'christen' the comfortable antique sleigh bed.
Sherlock, she thought with a grin, wouldn't give a toss about whose house they were in, as a very flustered (and outraged) John Watson could attest!
"You're thinking about sex," Sherlock murmured in her ear after Charlie reminded them that dinner would be in another hour and instructed them to 'get some rest' in the meantime. Molly's mum always had preferred to be left alone when she was cooking. Sherlock had closed the door behind him before coming over to Molly and pulling her into his arms.
Molly giggled. "Well, yes, I kind of always am when I'm with you," she admitted, looking up at him through her eyelashes.
"Good, so am I," Sherlock declared before tugging her over to the bed. "Let's test the mattress out, shall we?"
An hour later, promptly on time, they made their way back downstairs to join the family at the dinner table. Charlie's daughter and her husband and three sons had arrived while Molly and Sherlock were 'resting', so they were treated to another round of family greetings, which Sherlock handled quite graciously despite the fact that they, like Madelaine and Charlie, were quite casual in their treatment of him.
Almost as if they already knew him.
A suspicion was beginning to dawn in Molly's mind, but it was so ridiculous she tried to dismiss it. But when Amelia's son Wally asked Sherlock why he hadn't worn the funny hat or brought the dog, she couldn't stand it any longer. "Right, what's going on?" she demanded, just as her mother brought the roast in to set on the table.
Everyone stared at her. "What do you mean?" Charlie asked after exchanging questioning glances with the others. "Family dinner, Molly, same as last year."
"Not the same," she said, almost stamping her foot in frustration. Sherlock cleared his throat but she ignored him in her growing ire. "Last year I was engaged to Tom, and this year I'm with Sherlock."
Another series of baffled looks were exchanged. "Molly," her mum said gently, coming round the table to put her hand on her daughter's arm, "it's all right. We understand."
"Well I don't," she said crossly. "I mean, I know you think we jumped into it too quickly but the passive-aggressive thing is getting a bit old, don't you think? If you don't approve, just come out and say so!"
"Well, we did wonder why you'd changed your mind, Sherlock," her mum said after a moment. "I mean, we understood about 'Tom', and the funny voice and the prosthetics - cheek implants, yes, to make you less recognizable?"
This last was addressed to Sherlock, who was actually grinning. As if he understood exactly what her mum was talking about. Which Molly absolutely did NOT. "Cheek implants," he chuckled. "And I suppose Tom loves ginger-nuts as well?"
Molly stared at him in confusion. "Yes?" she said, more of a question than an answer. "What's that got to do with - oh!" Her eyes widened as the penny finally dropped. She turned back to her mother. "You all thought that Tom and Sherlock were the same man? Is that it?"
"You mean they weren't? You weren't dating him undercover, to keep you safe?" her mum asked.
Sherlock was absolutely shaking with silent laughter as Molly shook her head. "No, Mum, Sherlock and I have only been together for a few months - but," she added firmly, "it's been a long time coming, so I don't want to hear one word about how it's too soon after Tom. And honestly!" she interrupted herself with another stamp of her foot. "They didn't look that much alike!"
"We did, a bit," Sherlock said through snorts of laughter. "I mean, tall, curly dark hair, and he even tied his scarf the same way I do."
"It's not funny," Molly said through gritted teeth - but she wasn't nearly as angry as she felt she ought to be.
"It's a tiny bit funny," Sherlock protested, still giggling like an idiot. Like a big, adorable, idiot. Like HER big, adorable idiot.
Her mother looked absolutely mortified, and Charlie and his family looked more than a bit uncomfortable. Well, the adults did, at least; the three boys, all under the age of ten, just looked bored and a bit restless. Before they resorted to using the dinner rolls as impromptu miniature dodgem cars, Molly forced a smile. "It's fine, Sherlock's right, it's a bit funny." She tried a giggle, which to her surprise turned into a chuckle and then a full on laughing fit - in which everyone eventually joined, even her red-faced mum.
After dinner they adjourned to the parlour to open presents, her mum taking her and Sherlock aside first to apologize for the mistake they'd all made. "It's all right, Mum, it really is," Molly assured her with a hug. Once upon a time she might have been just as mortified at the mistake as everyone else had been, but now? She smiled at Sherlock, reaching out to take his hand. How could she be anything but deliriously happy?
That night, as they snuggled together in the now-thoroughly-christened nineteenth century, solid cherry sleigh bed, she sighed with contentment and told him exactly that. "I guess this visit hasn't been as bad as I thought it would be."
Sherlock's expression turned smug as he kissed her on the forehead. "Of course it wasn't. I'm not saying I told you so…"
Fortunately his giggles and mock cries of surrender as she beat him over the head with the pillow weren't loud enough to wake anyone else up.