Molly had been in her room preparing for her date for nearly two hours when her stomach began doing nervous flip-flops. I'm going on a date…with Sherlock Holmes! Unwilling to put any undue pressure on him, she opted out of her slightly more risqué black dress and selected a simpler, sweeter pale pink one. It was age-appropriate without being too revealing, and the color, she thought, was flattering to her complexion. She began to pull her hair up when she remembered the look Sherlock had given her when her hair was down after her shower and decided to let it fall freely past her shoulders. She applied a little light make-up and took a deep breath as she appraised herself in the mirror: nicer than normal, but not trying too hard.
At 6:58, there was a gentle knock on her bedroom door. Molly giggled slightly at Sherlock's punctuality and insistence on "picking her up" for their date. Her heart leapt slightly as she opened the door and caught sight of him in her favorite purple shirt that he had only reclaimed from her the day before.
"You look lovely," he said with a shy smile. Molly watched as his eyes moved quickly up and down her form once, no doubt deducing a thousand things about how nervous she was about their date. The fact that he voiced none of his deductions further proved how much he wanted the evening to be successful.
"Thank you," she replied, "you look nice too. I love that shirt on you."
From behind his back he produced a small bouquet of flowers, their ends hidden from view within his grasp. "Um-these are for you."
Molly chuckled and shook her head. "That's very sweet of you, Sherlock, but you'd better go put those back on Mrs. Hudson's table before we leave or she's going to hit you with the newspaper again."
"Right, well, I tried, anyway." Sherlock turned just the slightest bit pink before turning to lead them down the steps into the main flat. Mrs. Hudson was coming up the stairs at the same time, meeting them in the sitting room. Sherlock tried in vain to hide the flowers behind his back again, only to receive a playful glare from Mrs. Hudson as she snatched them from him.
"Sherlock Holmes, don't you try to pass off used flowers to our Molly. You be good this evening, young man, or your mother shall hear of it!" She gave Molly a smirk before walking into the kitchen.
"Mrs. Hudson, are you sure you wouldn't like to come to dinner with us? Or to John and Mary's?" Molly asked.
"Oh, I wouldn't want to intrude on your date, dear. Sherlock's been talking about it non-stop for days." At this, Sherlock's pink from before went full red, as he ushered Molly quickly out of the door before Mrs. Hudson could do any more damage. "Have fun you two! I'm a very heavy sleeper so don't be afraid of waking me up when you get home!"
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Sherlock and Molly walked along the crowded streets of London with their hands tucked deeply into their pockets, attempting to stay warm against the December air. Dinner had gone surprisingly well, with Angelo only gushing slightly about the fact that Sherlock had brought a girl with him instead of "Doctor John." Conversation flowed easily throughout the meal, with Sherlock recounting some of he and John's more humorous cases that Molly hadn't been part of and Sherlock listening in rapt attention as Molly told him of one of the more mysterious autopsies she had performed while still a medical student.
Molly felt lighter than air as the evening progressed, happy to finally be able to talk about her job on a date and not only not have him cringe, but to listen and ask questions as well. She was also amazed to see Sherlock actually eat a full meal, as he was normally more of a grazer at home, casually plucking food from her own plate rather than sit down to eat his own. When they had finished and Sherlock had attempted to pay for their meal (which Angelo waved off energetically), they exited and began the long walk to John and Mary's house.
Unfortunately, their conversation seemed to stay within the cozy little restaurant, as they now walked in silence, hunched against the cold. Molly gave a slight shudder at a particularly icy gust of wind.
"Would you like my coat?" Sherlock asked, already unbuttoning his wool overcoat.
Molly sighed. "You don't have to do this, you know."
"I was only offering because you look cold-"
"No. Not the coat-this:" Molly gestured vaguely with her hands. "Asking me out, taking me to dinner, the whole 'dating' game; I know it's not you."
"You're not enjoying yourself, then?" Sherlock asked, confused, since her body language throughout dinner had indicated that she had been having a good time.
"No, no, no! That's not it at all, Sherlock. This evening has been wonderful so far!" She held her hands up in a peacemaking gesture. "It's just…I know this isn't you."
"No, it's not," he replied, his head facing the pavement as he walked on.
"Then why are you doing it?" she asked, pulling her coat in tighter.
"I just wanted you to be happy. You deserve to be happy."
Molly nearly stopped walking at his words but kept going, only hesitating for a moment on the pavement. Her eyes misted over slightly as she smiled up at him, his eyes still on the ground. Without a word, she slipped her arm through his and leaned her head against his shoulder as they continued to walk. Sherlock only had an instant to be surprised by her actions before a sleek black car pulled up next to them on the street.
"Oh, no," Molly said, gripping Sherlock's arm tightly, "you don't think something's come up in the case?"
Sherlock sighed and shook his head. "No, this is Mycroft meddling in my social life again. Come on," he put his free hand over hers and led her into the back of the blissfully warm car. Molly's eyes widened slightly at the array before her. The back of the car had been outfitted with soft lighting and a dazzling display of wine glasses and bottles.
"Well, I suppose this is on my brother's tab. Molly, would you like a drink?" Sherlock selected one of the bottles, no doubt something Molly would only be able to afford in her wildest dreams and poured two glasses. He handed her one and raised his own, looking at her expectantly. "To the New Year?"
"To the New Year," she raised her glass and clinked it against his. Drinking deeply, the wine was absolutely heavenly on her tongue.
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"I trust you had a pleasant voyage to the party, dear brother?" Mycroft strolled over to meet Sherlock as Molly rushed to greet Mary and a giggling Abigail in her arms.
"I suppose 'thanks' are in order?" Sherlock glared as he hung his and Molly's coats on the rack inside the door.
"Nonsense. Wouldn't want you to do something…out of character now, would we?" Sherlock bristled as he felt the unwelcome sensation of someone deducing everything about him. "I so hope you have a good evening, Sherlock. Do stay away from the hors d'oeuvres this time. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have business of my own to conduct." Mycroft breezed through the room to stand beside Detective Inspector Lestrade, who was standing awkwardly by the window having clearly uncomfortable conversation with Sarah Sawyer from the clinic. Sherlock cocked his head slightly as he watched his brother approach.
"Huh." Sherlock shook his head in disbelief before making his way through the crowd to find Molly.
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Midnight was fast approaching as Molly noticed Sherlock was no longer behind her. He had been doing quite well at the party, only receiving one scathing retort from Donovan and very nearly announcing the affair between two of the doctors at John's surgery before he was stopped by Mary. Molly had been talking to John for several minutes about something medical that Sherlock had clearly found to be boring and wandered away. As Mary walked past carrying drinks, Molly tugged her sleeve.
"Have you seen Sherlock?"
"He's out back. I think two social engagements in a week were just too much for him," she smiled.
"I'd better go check on him then," Molly made to exit through the kitchen to the small back garden.
"Just remember everything I taught you!" Mary winked at Molly's back as she disappeared out the door.
The atmosphere outside was quiet compared to the rustling excitement of the party. Sherlock sat along the stone wall surrounding the small terrace behind the house, looking up at the sky. At the sound of the door closing, he seemed to tense slightly.
"John, for god's sake, I'm not smoking, I just need a min-"
He turned around at the sound of her walking toward him. "Oh, it's you."
"Everything ok?" Molly asked, crossing her arms and hugging herself. While he had clearly retrieved his coat before coming outside, she had not.
"Yes, I just needed to-"
"Take a break?" Molly finished for him, reaching his spot along the stone wall.
Sherlock smiled and nodded, glad that Molly understood his need to extricate himself from so many people without explanation. He stood, unbuttoning his coat. "Here," he said, gently taking Molly's arm and pulling her close to him, wrapping them both in his coat, his arms wrapped tightly around her back. Blushing slightly, she accepted his gesture by lacing her hands around his waist and resting her head against his chest, relishing in both the warmth and the intimate contact. She felt him release a shaky breath before bringing his head down to rest his cheek against her hair.
They remained like that for several minutes, Sherlock absently allowing his thumbs to graze back and forth across her back as he held the coat in place around her. From inside, a loud countdown began, indicating the impending hour.
"FIVE! FOUR! THREE! TWO! ONE! HAPPY NEW YEAR!" The cheering inside met them on the terrace, as Molly leaned slightly away from him.
"Happy New Year, Molly Hooper."
"Happy New Year, Sherlock," Molly smiled. She rose to her tip-toes and gave him a brief peck on the lips, smirking at the way his eyes widened and cheeks reddened that had nothing to do with the cold. She lowered herself back down to regular height. "So, should we go back in or-"
Her sentence was interrupted by Sherlock pulling her in close, pressing his mouth to hers, a kiss far less innocent than the one she had given a moment before. Letting out a small squeak of surprise, she felt Sherlock start to pull back, obviously afraid he had overstepped his bounds. Before he could pull away, she brought her hands up to swing around his neck, her fingers tangling in the curls on the back of his head. He immediately relaxed, snaking his arms tighter around her waist, his hands' job of holding the coat long forgotten. Closing her eyes, she continued to kiss him the way she had wanted to for the past several years, fireworks exploding in the sky as the celebrations of the New Year surrounded them.
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"Where's Sherlock and Molly? They're missing everything!" John asked Mary, Mycroft, and Lestrade, all of whom were standing slightly apart from the throng of guests still raucously singing "Auld Lang Syne."
"Oh, I think they're enjoying themselves," Mycroft said, raising his glass and indicating the kitchen window behind the small group.
The fireworks display had illuminated the back garden like day, revealing Sherlock and Molly very nearly glued together, completely and totally unaware of their audience.
"Are they snoggin'?" Lestrade laughed, knocking back the last of his scotch.
"You're the detective," Mycroft smirked at Lestrade, eliciting an uncomfortable smile from the Inspector.
"My god, it's like a car accident-I can't stop watching," John said, his eyes agape as the group watched Sherlock bring one hand up to rest gently against Molly's cheek.
"Oh, look at you three! It's not a show!" Mary jokingly shooed the men away from the window, drawing the curtains to give the new couple some privacy. Before shutting them completely she allowed herself one final look, a triumphant squeal escaping before she ran off to join John.