Chapter 7
The 221 Baker Street's foyer was dark as was Mrs Hudson's flat. The two men looked around dumbfounded, then Sherlock said "Maybe she's putting Rosie to sleep in your old room", John nodded and followed his friend up the stairs.
The two of them stopped on the landing, suspicious of the fact that both doors that gave access to Sherlock's flat were closed, "What?..." John began to ask but Sherlock motioned him to be silent by placing a finger on his own lips. He put his hand on the doorknob and turned it as gently as possible and then slowly opened the door.
As soon as the door was halfway the lights went on inside the flat and a group of voices shouted as one "Merry Christmas!". Sherlock blinked a couple of times to get his eyes used to the difference in light and then exchanged a stunned look with John. Both looked around gobsmacked, every corner of the room had been festively decorated.
There were Christmas lights and garlands everywhere. Christmas themed candles and centrepieces on coffee tables. A small Christmas tree with several presents at its base had been set up just behind the door. "What the hell…?" whispered John smiling at the people in the room as Sherlock wondered dismayed how it was possible his living room could contain all those people.
DI Lestrade and Mycroft stood by the fireplace whereas John's sister, Harry, sat in his red chair with Rosie in her arms. Opposite them, in Sherlock's chair, sat Mrs Hudson and behind her, by the window, were Donovan and Anderson, now a steady couple. Next to the other window was Anthea, while sitting on the sofa were Sherlock's parents.
John and Sherlock were still stunned when they were overwhelmed by a carousel of handshakes or warm hugs from those present, "Oh, my boy, your father and I are really happy to be here all together! It's been a terrible year and we all deserve some serenity and happiness" said Mrs Holmes, hugging her son tightly.
"Yes…sure" he replied not at ease in being embraced in public by his mother, "But who invited you? Because I didn't organize any of this", his father gave Sherlock a light pat on his shoulder "Oh, we know! It was supposed to be a surprise for you!".
"Really? I don't understand…" he murmured getting rid of his scarf and Belstaff, "It was Molly's idea" said Mrs Hudson who had joined them, "She's in the kitchen…in case you were wondering" she added with a sweet smile. He shifted his feet looking nervous at the kitchen's sliding doors "Go to her, Sherlock!" his mother whispered, giving him a nudge of encouragement.
He took a deep breath, held back a tense little smile and took small steps towards the kitchen. The closer he got, the more he realized his heart had sped up and that it was almost hard to breath. Sherlock froze in the doorway. John, who was handing Rosie to Molly to place the baby on her left hip, was kissing Molly's cheek in greeting "It's nice to have you back" he was saying and Rosie was holding them very close with her little arms around each one's necks.
Molly wore a red suit trousers and jacket which had a plunging neckline with a single button at her navel. The red lace underwear, almost certainly a bodysuit, was partially exposed. Her brown hair was styled in a low bun from which some strands of hair had been deliberately left out, making her face softer.
As he stood motionless on the threshold, the doors of his mind palace opened and Sherlock imagined approaching Molly, pinned her against a cabinet and untying that bun to let her hair fall free, hiding his face in the hollow of her neck to inhale her scent, unbutton her jacket and slide it off her shoulders, while both of them gasped and she closed her eyes whispering his name.
"Uncle! Uncle Sherl!" Rosie's shrill voice demanding his attention brought him back to reality abruptly. At the little cries of her goddaughter, Molly instinctively looked from John to the kitchen's door.
And here he was, in front of her, as beautiful as a summer's day in a fitted tailored black suit with her sapphire blue favourite shirt, which matched beautifully with the colour of his eyes. She had the irresistible urge to run her fingers through his curly black hair and ruffle it. Molly was aware she probably had heart-shaped pupils and a stupid expression on her face but, for God's sake, she had missed him so much!
"Uncle…hug me!" Rosie yelled, waving her little arms while John took a few steps away leaving room for his friend. So Sherlock walked over to both of them and looped an arm around Molly's waist then bent down to kiss his goddaughter on the forehead, "Hello, sweetie" he whispered softly looking at Molly straight in the eye.
Sherlock saw Molly blink and blush, felt her breath hold and noticed the pulsing point on her neck accelerate, "Well, I still have an effect on her" he told himself smiling, while Rosie threw her arms around his neck "Hello uncle!". The sudden gesture of the little girl unbalanced Molly and Sherlock was forced to hold her tighter to himself to prevent her from falling.
Molly gave a chuckle as she looked up at him and leaned one hand on his arm, "Come on Rosie, let's go to Nana Martha. Let's leave uncle Sherl and aunt Molly alone!" John chimed in, removing his daughter from Molly's arms, "Tell everyone it's almost ready" she said closing the sliding doors behind them, then turning to Sherlock she asked "Care to help me?".
"Yes, sure" he said rolling up his shirt's sleeves, "Do you want to finish slicing the turkey or arrange pigs in blankets, Brussel sprouts and roasted potatoes on the plates?" Molly asked pouring some wine into two glasses, "I leave you the honour of slicing…you are the expert in that field!" Sherlock answered accepting with a grin the wine glass she offered, "Well, great! A really witty joke! Now I don't know if I'll be able to eat it!" she said rolling her eyes and sipping the wine.
They looked at each other seriously for a few moments, then all of a sudden they both burst into a loud laugh "I know, I know…I couldn't help it!", Sherlock put his glass down next to the sink without stopping laughing "Oh, dear! Only now I realize how much I have missed all this!" his laughter abruptly subsided, "I missed you, Molly" his intense gaze and the blue of his eyes made Molly's legs shaky.
She swallowed hard "I missed you too, Sherlock" she whispered, then took hold of the carving knife and gave him a little nudge with her hip to move him away "But now let's get busy or the others will tear us apart from hunger!" she ordered with a smile as she resumed slicing the turkey.
"So" Sherlock said casually, filling the plates with food "Mrs Hudson said you arranged this party". Without looking him in the eye, Molly licked her lips feeling her heart thudding in her chest "Yup" she said. Now she had to be careful not to let anything show through. Molly had never had any secrets for Sherlock and keeping Irene and Sean's presence in London a secret made her fear he might smell there was something strange in her attitude.
So she had thought of organizing a Christmas party in Sherlock's flat, which in the eye of all should be a surprise for him. This had meant involving both Mrs Hudson and Greg in the concealed preparations, so that Molly's mysterious behaviour in case Sherlock followed her, would be justified it was a surprise party for him.
"I got her help to prepare all this" she said giving him the last slice of meat, "And I got Greg to help me get you and John out of town" she added taking a towel to wipe her hands. Sherlock turned, his eyes wide "The case in Manchester?", she nodded with a sigh "It wasn't easy to find one good enough for you and that would keep you away from here for at least two days!".
He raised his eyebrows with a grin "So I guess I must be flattered you are given so much to do for this party", Molly shook her head "Don't be. I just thought it would be nice to get together for Christmas Eve, after what we've been through for the past year and a half" she whispered in a lightly sad voice, "And it is. Thanks for bringing everyone together, Molly" she nodded with a sad smile, "Well, not everyone" Sherlock said tugging his hands in his trousers' pockets and looking down at the floor.
Molly's heart squeezed "Mary wasn't your fault, like Eurus wasn't Mycroft's fault" she whispered touching his arm. He looked at her from under his lashes with a sigh and nodded to the sliding doors beyond which the cheerful voices of the others could be heard, "We better feed them, what do you say?" she finished drinking her glass of wine and put it in the sink, "Yes, enough sad thoughts". They smiled at each other, opened the door and began supplying dinner.
The evening went on pleasantly. The food was great, the desserts a delight, wine and champagne cheered the guests and to Rosie's joy, Santa/Greg also came to hand out gifts to everyone.
John hadn't missed Sherlock's frown when he saw Molly grab Greg by the arm and stealthily disappear upstairs with him to make the DI put on the Santa's costume. He couldn't blame his friend if he felt jealous because Molly was a real knockout that night. Although Rosie had kept him busy, John had been observing them discreetly throughout the evening. Sherlock and Molly had not managed to carve out moments to be alone, in fact most of the time they had found themselves at opposite ends of the room, but they had often exchanged smiles and sought each other's gaze.
"I haven't seen my son so relaxed and comfortable with people in a long time, John. I hope he's not foolish enough to let that woman slip away!" Mrs Holmes had confide in his ear as she watched Sherlock attentively watching Molly engaged in an intense conversation with Mycroft.
Even John hoped so. He hoped that soon his two friends would have a clarifying chat and Sherlock would finally give in to his feelings for Molly. Feelings that in hindsight, John had realized have been there for a long time.
Until the events of Sherrinford, he had mistakenly assumed that the only female human being Sherlock could ever have feelings for was Irene Adler. On balance, however, she had been a flash in the pan that had ignited so intensely just as quickly it was extinguished.
With Molly it had been different. John felt he could compare Sherlock and Molly with two flints. They had rubbed and rubbed until was struck a flame which at the beginning had been flickering and barely visible. It had grown strong and steady after Sherlock's return from the 'world of the dead'. Then the events that had taken place in their lives in the last few years had been the wind, but instead of extinguishing that flame, it had caused the fire to flare up.
