"What on earth did you do to Mycroft?" Molly scolded Sherlock as Mycroft stumbled wide-eyed into his study and then steadied both hands in the doorway to catch himself.
"What the devil did you slip into my drink?" Mycroft accused his brother openly as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "I am blitzed out of my damn mind."
"Let me help you sit down," Molly urged. Mycroft didn't refuse.
"God, you're obnoxious," Sherlock lamented about his brother. "Just enjoy the drugs. It's Christmas."
"What did you give him?" Molly asked as she walked Mycroft through his study to the couch. "Honestly, Sherlock, this is a dangerous!" She scolded him harshly as she settled Mycroft down into a sitting position.
"Just something to take the edge off," Sherlock swore, "It won't kill him. With any luck, he will actually be a bit fun." The sleuth smiled mockingly at his brother.
Music from the living room filtered in through the house. John popped in the doorway. "We need the violinist and the cellist in the living room please."
"The cellist will not be performing tonight," Molly stated as Mycroft continued to open his eyes wide and close them again as he tried to get a grip on reality. "Best start without us."
John entered the room to evaluate Mycroft. "What on earth is wrong with him?"
"Sherlock drugged him," Molly reported, giving Sherlock a reproachful look with her hands on her hips.
John gave him a look of contempt and then hit him. "For the love of God," John exclaimed as he rushed to Mycroft. Mycroft gripped the arm of the couch as if trying to stay on the earth's surface or face falling off. "Why on earth did you do that?" John asked incredulously. "This is his house. He has been nothing but nice to you! To all of us! It's Christmas for God's sake!"
Mycroft opened his mouth and moved his jaw from side to side as if to reevaluate range of motion to prove that it was there and actually worked.
"His eyes are completely dilated," Molly commented offhandedly as she held his face in her hands.
"Hey!" Sherlock exclaimed taking offence, "I spent three weeks trying to get a formula of drugs correct so that I wouldn't kill him or make him vomit. He is just high enough to be honest and truthful and happy for a change. He will feel good for exactly one hour. Just for sixty minutes, the weight of running the country is not on his shoulders. The drugs will wear off when he gets a terrible migraine for exactly six minutes and fourteen seconds, upon which it will completely dissipate and he will remember nothing of the previous hour."
"Let me get this straight," John stood up from his position of hoovering over Mycroft to stand in front of his best friend. "You decided to drug your brother as a present to him?"
"He gets it," Sherlock waved a hand indicating John while he looked disappointedly at Molly. He pointed back at his brother, "The man has three stomach ulcers and a constant stress headache. He could use a little merry and bright. He's not going to die. He will just be blissful and cheery for a change. Honestly, you act as if I didn't love my brother at all."
"You were probably the one to give him the three stomach ulcers," John pointed out loudly.
Molly closed her eyes and rubbed her temples with her hands. Greg popped in the doorway. "We are all set."
"Enjoy brother, mine," Sherlock smiled victoriously over his brother and left with Greg.
"I can stay with him," John offered.
Molly smiled, "I can handle this. And if I can't, I will come get you. Go have fun."
"You sure?" John hesitated.
"Yes," Molly assured him. John eyed Mycroft wearily one more time. He then nodded and left, shutting the door behind him to give them privacy.
Mycroft stood up and slowly started walking around the room.
"How about you just sit for a bit," Molly suggested following him. "Or you could just lie down."
"I need to regain my senses," Mycroft insisted. "Such an odd feeling," he commented aloud as he flexed his fingers as if they ached or he had never used them before.
"Let me get you a glass of water," Molly offered, heading over to the bar at the corner of his study. Molly filled a glass of water from the sink and offered it to Mycroft who downed it as quickly as humanly possible.
"Would you like more?" Molly asked with a bit of concern. He nodded and handed her back the glass.
"Is it hot in here?" he asked as he continued to roam around the room. He took off his suit coat and slung it over the back of his desk chair. Then, he loosened his tie and promptly pulled it off. He lay it on top of his coat. His waist coat quickly followed. Next, he was unbuttoning his dress shirt.
Molly saw where this was heading and put the glass of water down on his desk before helping him button up his shirt again, but not before getting a full few of his chest.
"Have you been lifting?" Molly asked curiously.
"Three times a week with my rugby team," Mycroft answered. Molly had just found out about Mycroft playing on an old-man rugby team. He even invited her out to watch him play after the new year when they had their next match.
"Is it hot in here?" he asked as if it were the first time he had asked the question. He began unbuttoning his shirt once more. Molly rebuttoned his shirt and handed him the water. He downed it quickly like the first glass.
"Better?" Molly asked.
Mycroft nodded and then began fishing for something in his desk drawer. He pulled out a remote and music began to play softly on the stereo in the corner. It was just loud enough to drown out the live music playing from down the hall but still quiet enough that they didn't need to speak any louder to have a conversation. Mycroft set the remote down and rushed over to Molly.
"Dance with me," he insisted, taking her up in his arms and leading her to the middle of the room where there was space enough to dance. Molly was surprised by his actions, but she went along with it anyways since it was making him happy.
"You are really good," Molly noted as he led her around with grace and ease. "You've had lessons."
He nodded, "So have you." He smiled and twirled her around to the lively music playing from the speakers. He was playful and light on his feet and smiling. Molly couldn't help but smile back as his infectious spirit put a spring in her step. She was giggling and laughing as he dipped her and spun her around.
A slow song came on next and he pulled her close to him. "You smell so good," he commented with his nose unabashedly in her hair rooting around as he inhaled deeply.
"Thank you," she told the man who was high as a kite. "You smell nice, too." It was truthful. Mycroft always smelled incredibly amazing to her. Dancing this close afforded her closer to his enticing smell as well.
"How can you always smell this fantastic? Even after a full shift of working in a morgue, you still smell wonderful. I believe you to possess magical properties." He sniffed her hair as if that was the only thing in the world that mattered.
Molly giggled at his antics. His nose grazed the crook of her neck from her collar bone to her ear where he used his nose to outline its outer shell. "Maybe we should go sit down," she suggested as Mycroft took his hand and gently caressed the back of her head with a handful of her hair.
"Just one more dance," he begged in a low rasp next to her ear, "please."
She just nodded as another song came on. A romantic slow song, where Mycroft sang part of the lyrics in her ear. Molly was impressed at his singing abilities. His voice was soothing and perfectly on pitch. Dancing, singing, everything he did was perfect.
High was a different kind of unstable than being drunk and Molly wasn't sure how Mycroft would react to anything. "Will you come sit with me now?" she asked when the song was wrapping up.
"Didn't you know Molly?" Mycroft rasped lowly in her ear, "I would do anything for you."
"Like sit on the couch with me?" Molly asked hopefully to the really tall man who was stoned beyond belief.
"If you like," Mycroft agreed. She led him over to sit with her. He leaned forward on the couch with his forearms against his knees.
Molly was concerned that he might vomit despite Sherlock's assurance that he wouldn't throw up.
"Mycroft," she called with concern as she knelt down in front of him. "Are you going to be sick?"
He looked up at her with a toothy grin then quickly pulled her up onto his lap.
Molly squeaked as she was pulled up against him. As much as it took her by surprise, he was gentle in picking her up and placing her at a ninety-degree angle on top of him.
"Much better," he mused as he put a hand through her hair and his other possessively at her legs to keep her against him.
"Mycroft," Molly addressed calmly. "Perhaps it would be better if I sat next to you instead of on top of you."
"Then I can't smell you," he explained as he put his nose in her hair and trailed it along her neck again.
Molly indulged of him rooting around her neck and hair for a few moments before she pulled away. "Mycroft," she said in a sweet tone. "I think it would be best if we talk face to face."
He placed his forehead to hers and just took in a deep breath with his eyes closed.
"Like this?" he asked as he put his hand up to her face to graze it lovingly and affectionately with the pads of his fingers and the back of his hand. Molly just basked in the attention for a few seconds.
"No," she contradicted him softly, "you have to put me on the couch beside you."
"Are you sure," he asked before turning his head and placing a hot kiss on her neck.
"Yes," she whispered, but not as firmly as she should have, so he continued his ministrations. His lips trailed along her neck up and back again. She eventually had to pull away. As much as her body wanted his attention, she knew that Mycroft, out of his mind high, was not who she wanted the attention from.
She peeled herself off of him and sat a good foot apart from him. She took a deep breath to clear her head.
"You don't like me?" Mycroft spoke as if his very own heart was breaking. The look on his face was pained.
"Mycroft, I like you very much," she spoke the truth. "I just don't want you doing anything that would cause you to not speak to me again for fear of embarrassment." It was the truest statement that she could speak. High Mycroft might be into her, but Sober Mycroft certainly wasn't.
"You think there was anything that could keep me away from you?" he asked as if she already knew the answer.
"I think your stupid brother drugged you and you are going to regret your actions with me sooner than later."
"I wasn't careful," Mycroft changed the subject, dramatically standing up and walking around the room almost soberly.
"What?" Molly asked, lost as to what Mycroft was referring to.
"He's known for three weeks, he just told us," he said leaning over his desk as if tired from a long day at work.
"He's known what for three weeks?" Molly asked, still unsure of his meaning as she watched him continue to lean over his desk.
"I should have seen this coming," he lamented. "I can't believe that I let him have the upper hand."
"You are smarter than he is," Molly affirmed, even though she thought it was rude to say to a man who was perhaps unstable, "so why didn't you see this coming?"
"I was distracted," Mycroft confirmed as he flexed his arms as he gripped the edge of his desk. "He took full advantage. Perhaps it was for the best…" he trailed off as he hanged his head as if defeated.
"How on earth do you mean?" Molly asked standing up to face him with the desk in between them.
He looked up to her to answer, "these three weeks," he told her plainly, "how could you not know?"
"Know what?" Molly asked with confusion. The man was talking in riddles and half coherent sentences.
"How could you?" he countered back, "when I am such a coward."
"Come back to the couch," she tried to cajole him, "I didn't mean to upset you."
Mycroft huffed a laugh, "Molly, I am not upset by your actions," he specified, "I am upset with my own."
She walked around the desk to face him. "Will you sit with me? Please?" she asked sweetly as she took up both of his hands to guide him. He followed her hollowly over back to the couch.
"Tomorrow is Christmas," she reminded him, "would you like me to give you your presents?" She walked over to her purse to pull out the gifts she brought him.
"Here," she stated, giving him one small gift and one slightly bigger. "Go on, open them."
Mycroft took the two small gifts and opened the smaller of the two first. It was a box with cuff links and a tie pin. They both held his family's crest as the design. Mycroft scrutinized them with awe.
"Whoa," he stated like a child as he pulled one of the cuff links out of the box. "That is so cool."
That was not a statement that lucid Mycroft would have uttered so it put a smile on her face that stoned Mycroft would describe her first gift to her in such a manner.
"Open the next gift," Molly urged. Mycroft opened the bigger box which was just a framed 6x4 black and white picture that Molly had taken of him and his siblings. It was a shot with Mycroft in the middle, flanked by his siblings all sitting beside him on a bench outside his house. Sherlock held his pipe and sat back on the bench with one leg crossed over the other. Mycroft had a cigar in one hand, leaning down with his forearms on his knees and giving Molly a piercing look directly at the camera. Yuris had blown a smoke ring high up in the air with a cigarette in one hand leaning femininely against the bench seat. The picture was an amazing shot with all three smoking a different vice. The smoke managed not to block anyone's faces and everyone faced the camera giving their best attentive look.
Molly was ridiculously happy that the photo had turned out so well. The black and white aspect added depth to the picture and she was pleased with the results. Mycroft just starred at the picture in awe, and then looked at Molly with gratitude.
"My gift is not nearly as thoughtful," he said with contrition. "Thank you, Molly. I will treasure these gifts dearly."
He got up and put the framed picture on his bookshelf in plain view. The cufflinks and tie pin he put on his desk.
"I have a gift for you, but I am too chicken to give it to you," he announced.
"Okay," Molly replied happily, not knowing what to make of it, "that is fine." She wasn't sure how to process the information. "It is rather hot in here," Molly replied as she unbuttoned her cardigan, which was hiding the very fancy dress that Anthea picked out for her. She took it off without thinking and placed it next to her purse in the corner.
"How are you feeling? Would you like to lay down?" she offered once more, the safe space on the couch for him to rest.
"I shouldn't have waited so long," he whispered almost to himself as he circled back to his desk and filtered through the pockets of his suit coat. He pulled out two boxed and placed them on his desk.
"What are these?" Molly asked curiously. One was a small velvet box, fit for a ring or a pair of earrings and the other a longer box fit for a necklace.
"This is what my father gave me tonight," he said pocketing the smaller box. "And this is the one thing I cannot bring myself to give you."
Molly was intrigued by both little boxes, obviously holding jewelry of some kind.
"So, I will take it instead," she stated brazenly and pulled the longer box out from his grasp to open it. The tag read "To Molly, Love Mycroft" and she slipped the white ribbon off the baby blue Tiffany's box with abandon.
It was a diamond necklace and matching earing set. It was an authentic and very expensive diamond necklace and earring set from Tiffany's. Molly looked at the jewelry in awe. She gasped audibly as she opened the box.
"You like it?" Mycroft asked hopefully.
"Gorgeous!" she exclaimed breathlessly. She reexamined the box. "Is this really from Tiffany's?" she asked. "These are real diamonds?"
Mycroft nodded. "Elegant and understated, like you. You are modest to a fault, but so beautiful. May I?" he asked as he made a gesture to help her put the necklace on. Molly wasn't wearing a necklace and she quickly pulled off her earrings to replace them with the ones in the box. She moved her hair up with both hands when she was finished so Mycroft could put the necklace on her.
He took her over to the small framed mirror in the corner so she could see what they looked like on her.
"Mycroft," she whispered with awe as she got a look at the necklace and earrings that perfectly complimented the off-the-shoulders dress she was wearing. Anthea obviously knew about the jewelry she was going to receive. Molly recalled Anthea suddenly showing up at just the right time to offer her help purchasing a dress for Mycroft's big Christmas party. It must not have been the coincidence that Molly had believed it to be at the time. It was completely planned. "This is so beautiful," she stated breathlessly as he came up behind her to admire her reaction to the present. "But I don't think that I can accept this gift."
"Why not?" he asked softly as he moved her hair to one side and used his nose to trail over her neck again. Then both hands moved to her waist to hold her possessively as he began tracing kisses along the same spots he just nuzzled. Molly closed her eyes, as her willpower failed her for a few long seconds.
His touch, his possessive touch, his attentive and affectionate and gentle touch, was driving her mad. Mycroft was touching her skin in all the right places and Molly just wanted to melt into it. More importantly, she wanted to touch him back. She fought doing it with every fiber of her being. Her breathing hitched. "Mycroft," she called sweetly to him with her eyes still closed. "Let's dance again."
Dancing was the only activity that didn't really involve kissing, or it was the least of the activities that she could think of that would.
He moved her hair to the other side so that he could give the same great detailed attention to the opposite side of her neck. Molly snaked a hand to the back of his neck as he did, touching him just as affectionately.
"How about you sit on my lap so I can kiss you properly?" He asked in a low, suggestive voice in Molly's ear. Molly had a hard time saying no to that very happy thought.
"Yes," she agreed opening her eyes as she spied the clock on the wall. She had another quarter of an hour left until he was sober. "But let's dance first."
"Are you sure?" his breath was hot on her neck and his hands were now lightly touching down her arms and back again.
No. "Yes," she replied, trying to mean it this time as she turned around to face him.
Mycroft was just wanting to please her, and she could see it in his eyes. He gently took up both of her hands and led them back to the center of the room to dance. It was another slow song, and Mycroft held her close once more.
"We've been seeing quite a lot of each other these last three weeks," Molly stated, trying to figure out everything that Mycroft was stating earlier. "Running into each other coincidentally, helping each other shop for gifts for our loved ones, hanging out with friends," Molly was quickly adding up how not so coincidentally some of their serendipitous meetings might have been in hind sight. She racked her brain for what might have happened at the beginning of December that would have influenced Mycroft to begin wanting to seek more of her time and attention.
Molly decided to test a theory on how honest Mycroft would be with her for the next quarter of an hour.
"The first week of December, you came into the morgue looking for Sherlock. It was a Friday night and I was with my friend, Celeste, we were dressed up and about to go out for drinks at a Posh bar and we had a very private conversation while my friend was putting make-up on in one of the mirrors in my lab. Did you eavesdrop in on that conversation before you made your appearance?"
"The conversation that you had regarding no longer having any feelings for my brother romantically and that you really only liked him because he was tall and smart, and that you never found him physically attractive but you swore your friend to secrecy to not tell Sherlock that because it might hurt his feelings because he was still your friend and you didn't think his fragile ego could handle it? That one?"
"That would be the one," Molly affirmed as she tried to regain patience for the man. "I suppose you recall what I said about you?"
"Celeste was the one that brought my name up first. She asked if you thought I was handsome, and you told her yes, of course you did, but you also thought that I was way out of your league and that a man like me could never be interested in a woman such as yourself. Utter rubbish," he concluded.
The whole bloody conversation, she thought to herself. He listened to the whole bloody thing.
"So, you left, then made it look like you had just got there, and then ran into us as we were leaving the building just to make it look like you couldn't have possibly have heard us talk about you?"
"I could hardly contain a smile when Celeste said speak of the devil and you elbowed her," Mycroft mused. Mycroft had offered his services as driver to the bar they were headed to after Molly informed Mycroft that Sherlock wasn't at the hospital. Upon arrival, Celeste's boyfriend showed up early waiting for them outside the bar. Celeste promptly got out and greeted him, but Molly stayed in the car horrified that her precious few hours alone with her friend were going to be Molly being a third wheel while she watched them grope each other all night. She asked Mycroft if he wouldn't mind staying and joining them for a drink. He joined them, and they spent all evening laughing and enjoying the night. Celeste and her boyfriend got a cab to themselves and Mycroft took Molly home. His mobile rang just as he pulled up to her flat, and Molly thanked him quickly before he could answer it. She took the opportunity to exit gracefully before any awkwardness could take place.
"I had a lovely time with you that night," Molly recalled. He was the perfect date. He was the perfect gentleman.
That very next day, she ran into Mycroft again at the coffee shop she frequented on Saturday mornings on her day off and enjoyed a nice chat with him at a cozy table for a long while.
Mycroft explained that he was having a Christmas party at his house and not only wanted her to come, but asked if she would help him pick out decoration and help him put them up when she was available.
Molly easily agreed. She loved Christmas and everything that it entailed. Shopping for fairy lights and trimmings and all the elaborate decorations with him was delightful. Molly even helped him decorate his office, where she met Anthea for the first time. They became fast friends and now Molly wasn't surprised as to why.
Although she was certain that her newfound friendship was genuine and real, the impetus was most likely to help Molly pick a dress out for Christmas that would best compliment the present she was going to receive for Christmas from Mycroft.
They had been in close contact with each other for three whole weeks, but Mycroft never officially asked her out on a date-date. They ate dinner at his office while putting up the decorations there. More take-out at his house when she helped deck out his entire home. There was of course the exception of last Friday, when he called her, frantically asking if she spoke French and if she would help him out that evening being a translator since his bailed on him at the last moment. Anthea just happened to help her pick out dress options not only for Christmas the day before, but for any other occasion as well that required her to wear nicer attire. Molly remembered the smug look on her face. It wasn't cruel, just proud that she had done such a stellar job with Molly's new wardrobe. Molly wore one of the lovely dresses out with the French ambassadors since Mycroft took them all out to a fancy restaurant that night. Molly had another fantastic time and Mycroft thanked her profusely for saving him. Molly then asked if he was available to be her date for the hospital's formal Christmas ball, and they attended together. Molly wasn't sure if he said yes as a favor to her because she had helped him out so much lately or if he actually liked her. His lack of making any kind of physical move led her to believe that he wanted to remain just friends.
"Why didn't you kiss me last night after the ball?" She asked boldly, knowing at least now she would get a straight answer out of him.
"Did you want me to?" Mycroft asked as they swayed back and forth and his nose weaved in and out of her hair. "I was so nervous and you looked so lovely that I chickened out."
There was only a minute left until Mycroft started to revert back. Once his headache started coming, he would forget the hour they just intimately shared forever. It was now or never if she wanted to kiss him.
Mycroft must have sensed her meaning and stated, "I certainly have been wanting to kiss you for a very long time…"
He leaned over and placed his lips firmly over hers, still drawing her close with both hands. Molly couldn't help but enthusiastically respond back. Her hands reached up around his neck to pull him down towards her as she pressed up on her toes to help fill the gap in height. Mycroft broke it off first, stating that his brain was so happy that it might explode.
Her time was up. She felt bereft like Cinderella when everything turned back to the way it was before the fairy godmother showed up. But Molly had didn't have a glass slipper as a reminder to take home with her. She helped ease him down on the couch, using her cardigan as a pillow under his head. His hands clutched the side of his head as pain took over him.
She carefully took off the earrings and necklace and put them back in the box, fixing the ribbon on it like it was before. She slipped it back into his suit coat pocket.
Sherlock walked in, just in time to take over caring for Mycroft with John. Molly picked up her purse from the corner and slipped out of the room without being noticed.
She snagged her coat and headed out onto Mycroft's back deck, the one where she had taken the picture of him and his siblings.
She sat down on the bench and tears began to run down her face. She just sat there, cold and numb for a long while, knowing that she would soon have to call a cab and let the numbness of the evening wash over her while she was alone in her apartment.
It would be her first year of Christmas with no family. Her mother having died when she was eight and her father two years ago and the aunt who helped raise her passed earlier that year. She wrapped presents for her cat under her two-foot tree. Mycroft had pleaded with her to come over Christmas morning and spend the day with his family. She had agreed, but now she wasn't so sure.
The world didn't seem quite right anymore. Regular Mycroft did not want her, even though High Mycroft seemed to be in love with her.
Her mobile rang inside her purse, and she opened it up to see who was calling. Mycroft came bounding around the corner of his property carrying the clothes that he took off earlier with his phone up to ear. He was the one calling her.
"Molly! Thank God!" he hung up the phone and pocketed it quickly. Molly put her phone back in her purse as it had stopped ringing and swiped at the tears on her face as surreptitiously as possible. Mycroft was approaching slowly now and Molly turned her attention away from him for a second to collect her thoughts.
"How are you feeling?" Molly asked as she wrapped her jacket around herself tighter, "Is your headache gone?"
"If I had a headache, I don't remember. I can't remember what happened the last hour. One minute I am having a shot with my brother and John in the living room, and the next I am lying on the couch in my study half undressed and with your cardigan," he said as he handed it to her, "under my head."
"You don't remember any part of that hour you spent with me?" Molly asked painfully.
"Not one bit," Mycroft stated, still visibly frazzled as he put his waist coat on without buttoning it. He slung his tie over his neck but didn't tie it. "I saw your gifts. Thank you, Molly. I really like them." He put his suit coat on and began buttoning the buttons on the waist coat.
"Happy Christmas," she said as another tear betrayed her and rolled down her cheek.
"I did something to upset you," Mycroft deduced as he came towards her. "Did I hurt you physically in any way?" He asked roaming over her with his eyes to check for damage. Molly shook her head no. "Molly, I cannot apologize enough for my actions, whatever they were. I don't know how I have wronged you but I need to make it right. Tell me how I can make it right. Please," he begged.
She continued to wipe the silent tears from her face. She forced a smile. "Mycroft, really, you didn't do anything wrong, I promise."
"But I hurt you in some way," he insisted, "Molly I am so sorry. Please tell me how I have wronged you."
"No," Molly stated politely, yet firmly, "I think it is best that we put this whole matter behind us. Best pretend like it never happened." She got out her phone. "I need to get going," Molly smiled and got up.
"No," Mycroft took a step towards her, "You can't leave like this. Not with so much between us unsettled." He put his hands on her shoulders to beg her to stay. "Please, I beg you, come back inside. Please, don't go, Molly."
"No, Mycroft, I am afraid that I must," Molly said with resignation in her voice.
"But I haven't given you your Christmas gift yet," he reminded her. "Just five minutes, Molly. That is all I am asking for from you. Then if you must, you can leave. Just five minutes. Please." Concern and hope were written all over his face.
Molly hedged, "Maybe tomorrow," she turned away.
"Three minutes? Please, I just want to give you your present," He begged again. He stood closer to her, and put his forehead on hers and closed his eyes. His hands were still affectionately on her shoulders, caressing them up and down. "Please," he rasped.
Molly finally caved, "Three minutes," she acquiesced in a soft voice.
He barely moved his head away from hers. He searched her eyes. "Thank you."
Within seconds, they were back in his study. Molly removed her jacket, even though she didn't expect that Mycroft was going to give her the necklace and earrings. She expected that he had some kind of blanket gift card for her, like a gift card to Harrods or couple of glass ornaments tucked away for last minute gifts that he needed to give to people he didn't know he needed a present for until the last minute.
"Sit down, please," Mycroft insisted kindly. Molly gave him a weary look but complied. Mycroft sat beside her and picked up both of her hands hesitantly in his. "This is not how I imagined this would go. I wanted bring you in here after everyone had gone home and leave just the fairy lights on in the room and dance with you for a bit before giving you your present."
"Then let's dance," Molly stated standing up. Mycroft was encouraged and dimmed the lights in the room. He turned up the stereo and selected a song for them to dance to. He pulled Molly close.
His nose was close to her hair, but not unabashedly rooting around like before. "I was hoping to cheer you up with a dance, but I don't think there is going to be a way to do that at all. I'm sorry. A thousand times, I am sorry, for whatever it is that I have done to you to make you feel like I don't love you, Molly. Because I do love you, Molly. I have been in love with you for quite some time." He placed his forehead on hers as he stilled and just put his arms around her, his nervousness was palatable.
Molly reached up and touched his face and then pressed up on tip toe to kiss him. Mycroft more than eagerly engaged as he pressed his lips firmly over hers. His one hand in her hair and the other pressed against her low back, Mycroft was just as enthusiastic about kissing her as he was when he was high. Molly encouraged him with her hands unbuttoning his shirt and touching the skin along his neck and collar bone.
When they came up for air, he held his cheek next to hers and grazed his nose along her jawline.
Sherlock interrupted the moment as he burst through the door. "One last side effect," He promised with a clipped smiled. "Slight headache for one minute and then all of your memories from the hour will return. Cheers!" He stated merrily and then shut the door on his way out.
Mycroft winced and then pinched his nose. Molly led him over to the couch to wait out the pain.
"Lie back," Molly soothed as he gripped the sides of his head. "I should be over soon." One excruciating minute later and Mycroft sat up with a look of clarity on his face.
"Whoa," he said for the second time that day. Molly couldn't help but smile.
"Are you alright?" Molly asked with concern. "Would you like a glass of water?"
"I think I have had enough water for one evening, don't you?" He chuckled. He pulled out Molly's Christmas present. "Let's put this back where it belongs shall we?"
Mycroft very carefully put the necklace around her neck as she put the earrings in. "Now for my favorite part," he rasped as he swept her hair aside and placed kisses along the crook of her neck.
Molly let out a low hum of satisfaction and then snaked her hands through his hair. "To think we could have been doing this ages ago," Molly lamented.
"Then let's make up for lost time," he offered spinning her around and pulling her into his lap. For a few long minutes they slowly kissed each other.
Needing air, Molly rested her head on his shoulders as she played with the hairs on Mycroft's chest.
He placed his hand over hers. "My heart," he gave a solemn oath, "Is yours completely."
"I plan on possessing all of you," she said salaciously in his ear before she nibbled on it. Mycroft let out a low grunt of approval.
She then hopped up off his lap and quickly moved to the other side of the room to put her cardigan and coat back on.
"Where are you going? I thought you could stay the night here," Mycroft offered, not happy at all that Molly was leaving.
"It would be improper for me to stay," she reprimanded, much to Mycroft's adorable pouting, "you know how big of a prude I am." He nodded with understanding. "But I will be back tomorrow."
Yuris came in, not bothering to knock.
"Fantastic, you both have all your clothes on," she stated cheerily. "Molly, I have a cab waiting for us outside."
"I thought you were staying here?" Molly asked with confusion.
"Nonsense," Yuris replied as Molly grabbed her purse, "Sleepover at your place so you won't wake up on Christmas alone. Then we will come straight over here to spend the day. Mycroft will be all too eager to pick us up in the morning I am sure."
Mycroft wholeheartedly agreed.
…