Chapter 15

Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock, Molly, John or any characters you recognise

Authors note: Merry Christmas! I apologise for not posting for...well, months. I hope this long chapter will make up for it ;) Thanks for reading, and I hope you all have a great Christmas :D

The weeks that followed were some of the happiest of Sherlock's life. He learnt about himself, about Molly, and especially the piano. He found release in the instrument, though he would always favour his violin. He found that Molly could play beautifully, and the flowing melodies she composed helped him to think as they sat in the dusty pawnbrokers. Sherlock had allowed the pathologist to return to work, on the condition that she stayed at Baker Street for longer. She had no complaints. Even John enjoyed Molly's company, since they had found a mutual love of Doctor Who. Most nights, Sherlock would enter the living room to find their eyes glued to the bowtie –clad man on the screen.

Over time, the snow became thicker and the air grew colder. Christmas songs blared out of shops and bright lights appeared on the outdoor trees. As Christmas Eve arrived, 221b found Sherlock, Molly and John decorating their own Christmas tree as the scent of Mrs Hudson's shortbread wafted up the stairs.

"No, Sherlock, don't put that one there," Molly instructed, as the detective went to put a scarlet bauble on the tree.

"Why not?"

"Because the bauble on the branch next to it is the same colour."

The men had quickly learnt that the pathologist took Christmas very seriously. Every inch of the flat had to be decorated, every acquaintance had to receive a Christmas card, and it was essential that a snowman was made outside 221b. Whilst John loved Christmas as well, Sherlock found Molly's ideas pointless, but decided to comply as the grin on her face and twinkle in her eye made the whole thing worth it.

The detective sighed and moved the bauble to different branch before reaching for another. He felt something sharp in the box of decorations and pulled out large, gold star.

"Where does this go?" He asked, causing the others to laugh.

"Let me guess…you deleted it," John teased, triggering another spurt of giggles from the pathologist.

Sherlock glared at the pair and placed the star back in the box.

Hours after an exhausted John and an excited Molly had retired to their beds, Sherlock was still lounged on the sofa in his pyjamas, deep in thought. He remembered their last Christmas at 221b, when he was distracting himself with Irene Adler, a woman who had never held a place in his heart, despite common belief. An image of Molly's hurt expression propped up in his mind, and he cringed at the memory of his harsh words towards her last year. At that moment, he vowed that as long as he lived, he would never again allow that expression to appear on her face.

After a deep breath, Sherlock pulled himself off the sofa and retreated to his bedroom. He removed his dressing gown and, getting under the covers of his king-sized bed, wrapped himself around his pathologist protectively.

Sherlock awoke on Christmas morning to the sight of Molly Hooper's large, brown eyes peering back at him. Her lips grew into a grin as she noticed his newly-awake state.

"Merry Christmas," She whispered.

Fifteen minutes later, the couple entered the kitchen to find John and Mrs Hudson sat at the table eating chocolate-drowned pancakes. Sherlock went to sit at the table, but was stopped as Molly pulled him towards the living room with an expression resembling a seven year old child. Under the Christmas tree sat a pile of gifts, all labelled with names.

The pathologist sat on the floor beside the tree and patiently waited for the others to join her. Smirking at her enthusiasm, Sherlock placed himself in the nearest armchair and gazed lovingly at her – an action that caused John to roll his eyes.

The first gift Molly lifted was thin and light, and had been wrapped neatly in scarlet paper.

"To Mrs Hudson, Merry Christmas, from John" She read aloud from the tag.

The landlady took the box from her outstretched hand and gently ripped the paper, revealing Murder on the Orient Express, a book from Martha's favourite author – Agatha Christie.

"Oh John, how thoughtful! Thank you very much, dearie," She gushed.

The doctor smiled in return and they waited for Molly to pick the next present.

She chose a shoe-box sized present with the words 'To John, from Sherlock' written on in marker pen. She handed it to the doctor and they watched as he unwrapped the present to find, surprisingly, an actual shoebox. He took off the lid and laughed at what he found inside. Holding up a pair of fluffy, purple earmuffs for the others to see, John turned to Sherlock, the question on his mind obvious in his expression.

"You can wear them during my violin sessions," He explained with a smirk.

They all giggled and continued the exchange of gifts. Mrs Hudson was pleased to find that Sherlock had bought her a box of chocolates, and John had received the box-set for Doctor Who series 7 from Molly, which he was eager to start watching.

The pathologist had put a lot of thought into Sherlock's gift. She watched intently as he pulled off the blue wrapping paper of the heavy parcel to find a brand new microscope, much superior to one he owned. His face lit up at the sight of it, and he leant over to kiss her forehead in silent gratitude.

The last gift was a small, rectangular box wrapped in gold paper and decorated with a bow the colour of holly leaves. Molly's name stood out in Sherlock's scrawl. Looking over at the detective, she took his small smile as encouragement to open it. She tried to keep her expression neutral as her fingers ripped the paper, but deep down, she felt slightly disappointed; her present was so much smaller than everyone else's. Her disappointment worsened when she found a navy, velvet box inside the paper. She had never been one for jewellery, and her boyfriend knew this. However, when she pulled up the lid, she found a silver key instead.

"What's this for?" She asked him.

"I'll show you," He replied as he stood in his seat.

They all followed him up the stairs and past John's room to a white door at the end of the hallway.

"I thought this was a storage cupboard," John stated.

The detective grinned and turned to Molly.

"You know what to do."

She stepped towards the door and put the key in the lock. Pushing it open, she gasped at what she found inside.

A familiar upright piano -with dusty, light wood and polished keys- stood against the wall of the small room. There was also a red, leather sofa and a bookcase in the opposite corner, but Molly took no notice to this as she advanced towards her Grandmother's piano.

"You bought it back," It wasn't a question, but a statement of Molly's gratitude and complete astonishment. She ran back to the detective and jumped into his arms, tears falling down her cheeks.

"Thank you," She whispered.

"You're welcome, Molly."