"I see you've got a new boyfriend, Molly, and you're serious about him," Sherlock deduced.
"What? Sorry what?" Molly asked, flustered.
This can't be happening. He hasn't—no, oh God, Molly thought.
"In fact, you're seeing him this very night and giving him a gift," Sherlock continued.
"Take a day off," John pleaded.
"Sherlock, have a drink," Lestrade insisted.
Thanks for trying.
"Oh, come on. Surely you've all seen the present at the top of the bag, perfectly wrapped with a bow. All the others are slapdash at best. Must be someone special then," Sherlock further deduced.
Sherlock, please don't do this.
"Shade of red echoes the lipstick; either a subconscious association or one that she's deliberately trying to encourage. Either way, Miss Hooper has love on her mind," Sherlock teased.
I love you, you git.
"The fact that she's serious about him is clear from the fact that she's giving him a gift at all. That all suggests long-term hopes, however forlorn," he rambled on.
Most definitely forlorn, but it's the thought that counts, right?
"And that she's seeing him tonight is evident from the makeup and what she's wearing, obviously trying to compensate for the size of her mouth and breasts—" Sherlock trailed off after opening the tag on the gift.
Dearest Sherlock
Love Molly xxx
"You always say such horrible things. Every time. Always. Always," Molly reprimanded him. She refused to cry though it felt like a scalpel to her heart. He looked ashamed, not knowing how to proceed. Then he was stepping closer.
"I am sorry. Forgive me," Sherlock apologized. He moved closer then. Molly's heartbeat sped up, unsure of what was about to take place. Should she dare to hope?
"Merry Christmas, Molly Hooper," Sherlock spoke softly before leaning forward to place a gentle kiss upon her cheek. She closed her eyes to savor the moment, for she'd probably never get this again.
Then that blasted text alert went off. Things got pretty awkward real quickly.
Molly walked home in the snow from the hospital. Sherlock knew Irene from not her face. The answer was obvious to the pathologist. So she came to terms that she wasn't they type of girl for Sherlock Holmes and she was okay with it. Deciding to love him from afar was a tough decision but she couldn't help it. She loved him so much and she would do anything for him. Anything he needed, she would be there. Just because he didn't see her that way didn't mean that she cared for him any less. Yes, the things he said tonight made her feel like shit but he also gave a heartfelt apology. Sherlock Holmes didn't do apologies. Ever.
Something changed in that moment. A shift in their friendship was apparent. But what did it mean? Everyone, including herself, was shocked at the apology. Then the kiss happened. Sherlock Holmes did not partake in physical interaction if he could help it. Molly would feel the ghost of his full lips on her cheek for a very long time. She allowed herself to cry silently to sleep that night. She refused to cry again over the consulting detective from the next morning on.