December

It had been a few months since John had moved into the new flat. If anything could be said, it was that Mycroft (or maybe Anthea or some other minion?) had truly exquisite taste. If 221B had been the essence of Sherlock, Camden House was John. At the same time though, it wasn't personal. The only piece that really was unique to John was a framed photograph of him and Sherlock sitting on the mantel. Everything else looked comfortable, slightly lived in, but purchased out of a catalogue. It was also on the ground floor and within fantastic walking distance of the tube, which meant his limp was in better shape than it had been in months. It had plain colours, no frills, and it was easy to think of as home. He couldn't have picked a better place. He couldn't even tell where the cameras were, although he knew they were there. Occasionally, he would pop out to the store and notice a black car sitting by the kerb, but he was never urged to get in.

The job at Princess Grace was good. He enjoyed the work. It wasn't particularly daring, but it was nice to go in every day and have something to do. It kept his mind off of everything else. John had even been permitted to help out on a few more complicated surgeries, and during a particularly nasty rainstorm, had been asked to help patch up more than one auto collision trauma victim in A&E. His boss had even hinted that if he kept it up, he would be heading for a promotion soon. He had continued to keep up with Lestrade, Mike, Bill Murray, and Mrs Hudson. He had even seen Molly on four separate occasions. This, he thought, it what it felt like to be ordinary.

The weather that had been so pleasant turned bitterly cold only a couple of weeks before December broke. The work at the hospital consisted mostly of bad colds and under-the-weather elderly folks, which was why he was surprised to see Molly outside his office on a particularly nasty day. "Oh Molly! How have you been?"

"Hi John. I just happened to be in the area. I wanted to invite you to my flat for some drinks. Christmas, you know. Last year we did yours, so I thought we could do mine this go around. There will be lots of people there." John hadn't really thought about what he was doing for Christmas. Harry was back on the sauce, so it was probably for the best that he didn't go there. He was planning on spending Boxing Day with Mrs Hudson, but otherwise didn't have any other plans. A Christmas without a single party seemed sad.

"Sure. What day were you thinking?"

"The twentieth at eight." John flicked through his appointment ledger.

"Great. I won't be able to stay long. I have patients booked in for the next morning. It sounds great though, Molly. Who's all going?"

"Greg, Mrs. Hudson, some friends of mine from here and there, people from Bart's. You know Mike Stamford, I think. He's invited."

"Excellent. See you then?"

"Definitely. Take care, John." She gave him a long look before she swept out.

The twentieth crept up on John before he knew it. He took the tube to Molly's place. She lived much farther from Bart's than he did, exacerbated by the fact that the train was running behind. He was going to be late. Very late. Looking at his watch, he would really only have time for a drink or two before it was time to leave. At long last, he arrived, and it was with increasing trepidation he approached the door. Last Christmas had been a fiasco. Molly had gotten her feelings hurt. Irene had been found "dead". It had been a danger night. It was distinctly Sherlock. As much of a fiasco as it had been, it had still been exactly what life with him was like. John had often heard that the holidays after a close death were the worst. When he lost his parents, it hadn't felt like that. But now. Now. He felt a pang deep in his chest that felt like losing him all over again.

Greg answered the door. He was wearing a spectacularly awful Christmas jumper that featured an anthropomorphic Christmas tree. "Greg!" He said. Greg followed his line of sight.

"Yeah, I know. Molly picked it out. Count yourself lucky there isn't one for you." He grabbed John's jacket as he walked in, tossing it haphazardly onto an already overloaded coat rack.

John walked through the hall to the den, which was spacious but every available space was completely packed with people. Christmas carols played low in the background, and everyone was talking boisterously with a drink in their hand. John saw some people he knew, but lots of unfamiliar faces were scattered across chairs, tables, and couches. He saw Mrs Hudson deep in conversation with a doctor he recognized from Bart's.

Molly walked over and pressed a drink into his hand. She was wearing a silver-spangled dress and looked simply beautiful. John opened his mouth to tell her how fantastic she looked when Greg walked over and slid an arm around her waist. She leaned into his touch. John's mouth snapped shut. They both seemed to notice.

"You didn't tell him," Molly said, looking at Greg pointedly.

"I meant to, but you know...shit John, yeah. Me and Molly." He cleared his throat nervously with a small cough, looking away.

"Er yeah, great." John said awkwardly. Just then there was a rap on the door. Molly skipped off to answer. The moment she was gone, Greg launched into an explanation, rattling off words a mile a minute.

"I meant to tell you, I really did. She's brilliant, and she's not Jennifer at all."

"Really, Greg, it's fine. I'm happy for you. Really." He insisted at Greg's sceptical look. "Can we talk about sometime that isn't...now?" Greg nodded, as Molly returned with a woman in tow.

"John, this is my cousin Mary." Molly said by way of introduction.

"I'm going to go grab a drink," said Mary, moving away.

"No, no, here take mine!" Molly replied quickly, handing her a glass of wine. "Greg, why don't we go bring out the fruitcake. From the kitchen."

"Molls, I hate fruitca—" She glared at him as much as Molly was capable of glaring. "Right. Yeah. Fruitcake." Greg gave John a long look as he headed off into the hall.

The family resemblance between Mary and Molly was clear. They both had the same fair skin, rosy cheeks, and general air of trustworthiness. Mary was taller than him although not by much, with hair that was blonde bordering on red.

"Subtle, aren't they?" she said with a less than subtle eye roll.

"Ha yeah. Greg isn't particularly good at subtle. I had thought better of Molly though."

"Sorry, our introduction was a bit rushed. I'm Mary, Mary Morstan."

"John. Doctor John Watson."

"A doctor? What kind?" she sounded genuinely interested.

John cleared his throat. "I used to be in the army, doing some trauma work."

"Is that how you hurt your leg? The army, I mean."

"Yeah, Afghanistan," he said with a cough.

"And what do you do now?" He was grateful that she didn't linger on the subject.

"Old ladies with the sniffles mostly." She laughed. It was a refreshing sound. John grinned. "What about you?"

"I'm a primary school teacher."

"How old?"

"A lady never tells, Dr. Watson." Mary replied with a wink.

"I meant the kids," John grinned.

"The ones in my class are about seven. They keep me busy."

"I imagine they would."

"Little hell raisers sometimes. It's easy to let them get out of hand."

"I'm sure you can manage it." John smiled at her. Mary was charming. She had a way of making him feel at ease immediately. They bantered a little back and forth. Mary and Molly had always been close, almost like sister, John discovered, although they saw less of each other now that they were both working. She didn't particularly like the school that she worked at, but she was having trouble finding a position elsewhere. Before they knew it, half an hour had gone by. "Your drink's gone. I'll grab you another." He offered politely.

"Are you trying to get me drunk, Doctor?" She replied, a smile in her voice.

"John, please. And I usually wait until the third date for that."

"A third date! Why don't we start with a first date and go from there?"

"Are you asking me out?" He quirked a half-smile.

"John, that's precisely what I'm doing." At that moment John noticed that Greg and Molly had slipped back into the room.

"Excuse me for a moment," he said, moving towards them. Molly saw John approaching and moved towards Mary. "So Mary, eh?" John asked the DI. "What exactly are you two playing at?"

"You're having a great time with her."

"That is beside the point, and you know it."

"I haven't seen you look like that since before. Molly just thought you needed a little prodding. And Mary is a delight."

"Yeah, she is." John paused slightly. "Greg..."

"Hm?"

"How much does she know?"

"About you? Molly said she had an attractive single friend that she should meet. As far as I know, she doesn't know anything yet. Is that a good thing?"

"Yeah, yeah it is." Greg looked back over John's shoulder as Mrs. Hudson sauntered over.

"I wanted to say hello before I had to head out. My hip, you know."

"Merry Christmas, Mrs Hudson. I'll see you for Boxing Day?"

"I won't forget." He smiled and she patted his hand before going to the coat rack.

"You ran away before I was done flirting with you," Mary said from behind him, half-joking. He turned slowly to face her.

"I suppose that was rather rude of me." Just then his mobile beeped. "Oh damn. Is that the time? I'm so sorry, I've got patients tomorrow. I have to get home."

"Where do you live?"

"Camden. How about you?"

"Aldershot, but I'm here tonight. Probably kip on the floor."

"You could come to my place." The words were out of his mouth before he had time to stop them. He suppressed a groan of embarrassment. "That is not what I meant. My couch is really quite comfortable."

"I know what you meant, John. I'm sure your sofa is more comfortable than Molly's floor. I'll tell her we're leaving. Can you grab my coat? It's the pink one." John stared for a moment as she went to tell Molly they were leaving. He couldn't recall the last time a girl had spent the night at his flat. Months. Years. He could see Mary talking to Molly, who looked equal parts bemused, shocked, and pleased. Mary smiled at him and he went to grab their coats, simultaneously checking to make sure he had enough cash for a cab.

Mary appeared next to him, and he helped her into her jacket. "Ready to go?"

"Definitely." Greg and Molly said their goodbyes, thanking them both for coming. Greg gave John a meaningful look as they made their way out of the door. Subtle indeed.

Luckily, Molly's flat was on a main street, so it was easy to flag a taxi. John gave the cabbie the address as they headed off.

They sat in awkward silence for a few long minutes. Then, haltingly Mary snaked her hand onto John's thigh. He looked slowly down at her hand, then up at her, leaning in slightly. She smiled at him slyly, as she closed the gap, pressing her lips to his.

It was gentle and languid. They went slowly at first, but with the hint of urgency one can only get from snogging in the back of a cab. She nipped gently at his bottom lip as he opened his mouth, deepening the kiss. Their tongues slide against each other. Her hand on his thigh traced small circles, moving upward until..."Stop. Mary, stop." She pulled away immediately.

"I'm sorry, did I misunderstand...am I being too forward?

"No, no. I just...I don't want this to be a onetime thing." Mary slid down in her seat a little, tucking herself neatly against John's shoulder so that his arm was wrapped around her. She placed a kiss against his neck.

"John, I don't think one night will be nearly enough."