"Molly pleaseeee?"

"Sherlock, no."

"Just one! Nobody would even notice!"

"I would!"

"Pleaseee"

"Sherlock, go on a case or something, I am trying to focus here!"

Molly sighs exasperatedly as her childlike beau attempted for about the hundredth time that afternoon to try some of the sweets she had made for their upcoming Christmas party. They had both decided that the extra ten minutes was worth it for their friends to go to Molly's house instead of Baker Street, since they would have a lot more room to roam around and talk. Sherlock pouts and curls up on her sofa in his dressing gown and pajamas. He was feeling particularly lazy today and had yet to change into any real clothes. Meanwhile Molly had gotten an early start to the day and had started baking around 10am. She started off with cupcakes and brownies, and now she was on to her sugar cookies; with the recipe that she and Sherlock had perfected weeks ago before the flour incident.

She huffs softly as she kneads the giant ball of dough; shiny new cookie cutters, multi-colored frosting in piping bags, and sprinkles of all holiday shapes litter the rest of her counterspace. Glancing over at him, she can't help but feel bad, especially if he isn't feeling up to par today. Molly chews her lip and flattens the dough.

"Look, I know you're not in the best mood today, but if you wanted to, you could always help me cut out the shapes and decorate them."

Sherlock pouts. "What's the point if I can't eat them?"

"How about I make a special mini batch just for us, hm? How does that sound?"

He immediately perks up a bit and raises an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yes. But you have to help me get the rest of them done and packed so they stay fresh for the party in a couple days."

"Mhh...I suppose I can handle that." He shuffles over in bare feet, his curls in disarray. Molly can't help but giggle softly.

"Why don't you go into the bathroom and wash up first. You have major bedhead too, love."

Sherlock smiles softly as he usually does when she calls him "love". It's still new, and though he'd never admit it, it gives him butterflies in his stomach like the first time he laid eyes on her. "Alright, I'll be back then."

Molly gives him a quick smile and nods, rolling out the dough enough so that they can cut shapes into it. She starts with the snowman cookie cutter, then moves on to the Santa shaped one, the reindeer one, and finally the Christmas tree shaped cutter.

Sherlock goes into the washroom and closes the door, sighing softly. He knows that Molly doesn't deserve to have to handle his bad mood, but he can't help that he feels irritated for no reason. Ruffling his hair in the mirror, he combs it out and fixes it frustratingly. Once his hair is good and squared away, he washes his hands and chuckles a bit. Molly had put out a new soap from her favorite soap and perfume shop, named "Christmas Cookie". "How relevant", he thinks. On top of that, she had decorated the bath area with a Merry Christmas shower curtain and bathmat, and a Santa hand towel. Sherlock snorts at the gaudiness and dries his hands. At this point, he isn't even appalled anymore, as he has grown accustomed to the very "Molly" things that she does.

He returns to the kitchen and gapes. Molly had managed to roll, cut, and place about twenty cookies on a cookie sheet in the five minutes that he had spent washing up. "Wow, you're fast."

She grins her beautiful smile at him and nods. "Yes, well I am fast when I'm baking a lot. I'm pretty good at it I think."

"You are absolutely wonderful at it", he says softly, wrapping his arms around her smaller frame from behind, and leaning his head on her shoulder. "I'm sorry about my mood…I know you don't deserve it."

Molly leans on him a little and turns her head to kiss his forehead. "Everyone has moods sometimes, it's alright. It's human, silly."

"Ah yes, the H word…", he smirks a bit and Molly chuckles.

"Do you want to do the cutting or the…actually why don't you roll and cut the shapes, and I'll decorate the ones that are baked. I feel like if you decorated, you would decorate them as murder victims, or something else crazy", she laughs softly.

"Firstly, I am not terrible at decorating, I decorated Baker Street! Secondly, I think making the little snowmen and santas murder victims would be more of a Halloween thing, and it would probably confuse Rosie."

"You decorated Baker Street…exactly", she smirks. "And yeah, I guess you're not that thick, it would take up all my red frosting to draw blood on the majority of them anyway."

Sherlock laughs this time, nuzzling her neck. "Sometimes I wonder if we are the only couple that talks about murder and death in a completely normal, non-depressive manner. We must be, no?" he questions, moving to roll and cut the dough as instructed.

Molly joins in, giggling. "I would assume so, as it is technically very wrong and not a funny subject. Most humans dissuade others from enjoying topics regarding death and murder, Sherlock. We are the only ones who enjoy the jobs that go with either of those, so yes. We are absolutely weird, morbid, probably terrible people."

"Damn, that H word again. Weird and morbid I can handle, but there is no way that you, Molly Hooper, have a terrible bone in your body."

Molly's cheeks blush slightly and her kind eyes glimmer as she looks up at him. "You've really got flirting down, haven't you?"

"Mmh, you like it then?", he smirks.

Molly rolls her eyes. "Yes, but we need to focus on our cookies! More importantly, I do, because we can't have Santa looking evil. I can't get his face wrong, or else I'll scar Rosie."

Sherlock bursts into deep, velvety laughter. "I-…I'm sorry that was just…I was imagining that, and God, I love Rosie, but I can just imagine you accidentally making a demented looking cookie and her being scared out of her wits. You're right. Don't mess up."

Molly scoffs playfully and tries to concentrate. "Yeah, well you are distracting me!"

"Am not!"

"Are too! Plus, it's hard to decorate them all perfectly."

"They don't have to be perfect, just edible."

"I think we already established why they do in fact, need to be perfect, Sherlock."

He grins and finishes cutting the last of the dough, placing the shapes on another cookie sheet. Popping the last batch into the oven, he resumes his place behind her, his arms wound around her middle, and his face nuzzling her neck and breathing her in. "They do look perfect to me, Moll."

"Thank you, Sherlock."

"They look sweet and delicious too."

"Sherlock, I told you we could have some later. The last batch can be ours", she chuckles. "I know you're trying to compliment me to death so I'll give you a cookie."

"Actually, I was going to say they still aren't as perfect, sweet, and delicious as you", he smirks playfully.

"Sherlock!", she squeals, her cheeks turning red.

He smirks and leans into her ear, kissing it sensually. Molly rolls her eyes and nudges him away. "You're still not getting one, and you're purposely distracting me. Get out of my kitchen!", she says sternly but lightheartedly.

Sherlock groans and pouts again like a little boy, and Molly can't help but crack a smile and shake her head at him. All of this ridiculousness in this big, tall man. Her big, tall, ridiculous man, she thinks fondly.