The Doctor got a bad feeling the moment Molly got that Christmas party invitation.
The invitation came from a call from 21st century London. They were in the console room when the call came. Molly picked up her cell phone, expression becoming surprised when she heard the voice on the other line. "Oh, John, hi." The Doctor was surprised to hear the name of Sherlock's flatmate.
Molly listened a bit, then blushed slightly. "Oh, really? Er, yeah, sounds fun." A few moments, then she rolled her eyes. "John, it's a time machine, I could be there in two minutes if I wanted." A pause, then she added, "Alright, see you then," then hung up. The Doctor tried not to look like he'd been listening, but he knew she'd see through that. Eavesdropping and popping into conversations that didn't concern him were two well-known quirks of the Time Lord.
The pathologist looked down awkwardly at the phone for a moment, then glanced up at the Doctor. "Er, we just got invited to a Christmas party at Sherlock and John's flat."
The words raised a red flag for the Doctor, but he tried not to show it. "Christmas, huh? Is it that time already?"
Molly rolled her eyes. "It's a time machine, Doctor. We're in the Time Vortex. It's not any time."
The Time Lord cracked a grin. "That's more like it," he said approvingly.
The pathologist gave a hopeful smile. "So, do you want to go? It could be fun."
The Doctor hesitated. The red flag was waving more insistently now, and he knew why. "Really? With Sherlock? Are you sure?" Molly had been gaining much more confidence lately, but Sherlock seemed to have an innate ability to make her feel unimportant. Sherlock had redeemed himself somewhat in the Time Lord's eyes, but he still had an issue with his treatment of Molly. He didn't see the point of going through that again, but of course he wouldn't say that to Molly. It was her choice.
Molly hesitated for a few moments, then nodded firmly. "Yeah. We haven't seen them in months. Besides, Mrs. Hudson and DI Lestrade will be there." She grinned cheerfully, though something still seemed uncertain about it. "I'm going, are you? I know you're not really one for friendly parties and such."
He still wasn't sure about how this meeting with Sherlock would go, but he wasn't about to leave Molly on her own with him. "Yeah, sure, why not?" he said cheerfully. "I've always loved Christmas."
SCENEBREAK
Molly searched a bit for suitable gifts for the guests. The Doctor noticed with unease how particular she was about Sherlock's gift, and how she deliberated over an outfit before picking a rather low-cut black dress. Still, she seemed confident about seeing Sherlock and John again, so a few days after getting the call, they sent the TARDIS outside 221B on Christmas Eve, 2012. As they stepped outside, Molly let out a slight squeak of surprise as a snowflake landed right on her nose. The white flakes were falling softly through the night sky, the gentle white cloaking the ground. The Doctor grinned at the sight of it. "Ah, snow. Real, proper snow. It's been a long time, I have to say."
The Time Lord was dressed in his tux and black bow-tie, which usually ended up meaning some sort of wacky danger would spoil the evening, but he rather hoped tonight would be the exception. He'd really rather not combine Sherlock Holmes and aliens. He had a feeling the result would not be pretty.
They made their way into the building, climbing up until they reached flat 221B. The note on the door below had said to just come in, so they opened the door and entered the flat without bothering to knock.
An older woman and a younger one the Doctor didn't know were seated on the coach, while John and another man were standing. Sherlock was seated by his laptop, not bothering to look up as they entered. That was fine as far as the Time Lord was concerned. As long as he kept his comments civil, he could spend the whole night glued to the thing as far as he cared.
"Hello everyone," Molly greeted cheerfully. She and her chauffeur each carried a bag filled with presents, which they quickly set down. Neither had worn a coat, since the walk from the TARDIS to the flat was so short, so the two men in the room both got slightly wide-eyed at Molly's dress.
Every greeted her cheerfully enough, except for Sherlock, who just rolled his eyes and muttered, "Oh, everybody's saying hello to each other, how wonderful." The Time Lord shot him a quick, sharp glance, but the detective said nothing further.
"Sorry if we're late," Molly apologized quickly. "We got a bit caught up in traffic." She gave the Time Lord a quick side glance. He smirked at the veiled insult to his driving.
"Not at all," John assured her with a smile. He brought over chairs for her and the Doctor, but Sherlock soon called him over to look at something on his laptop. The other man approached Molly quickly, smiling pleasantly. "Want a drink?" he inquired. When Molly nodded, he turned to go and get some from the kitchen. The Time Lord wondered who he was; he seemed more pleasant than his host.
Molly turned to the older woman on the couch, seeming a bit more comfortable talking to her. "How's the hip?" she asked sympathetically. The Doctor guessed that this was Mrs. Hudson, the landlady.
The older woman chuckled, smiling warmly. "Ooo, it's atrocious, but thanks for asking."
"I've seen worse," Molly told her. "You know, I think I might actually know something that could help." She turned to the Time Lord. "Remember, that salve we were looking at on Tycon? Didn't it say something about helping with sore joints?"
The Doctor grinned at the memory. "Oh, Tycon, that was a trip. But yeah, we'd probably be able to pick some up for you."
Molly seemed to remember that she hadn't introduced her escort yer. "Sorry, um, this is my friend, the Doctor."
"Doctor who?" came a voice from behind. The man from earlier was back with a glass of red wine for Molly, who accepted it gratefully.
The Time Lord grinned at the familiar question. "Just the Doctor," he told the man.
His eyebrows raised slightly at that, but after a brief, curious gaze, he turned back to Molly. "I didn't think you were coming. John said you'd been off traveling or something."
She smiled fondly, probably remember their months of adventures. "Yeah, it's been me and the Doctor on the road for a while. There's tons to see out there. We've mostly been doing research, but there's plenty of time for sight-seeing too. We just thought we should pop in over Christmas." The lie sounded pretty natural. "How about you, Detective Inspector? Any plans for Christmas?"
The man, DI Lestrade the Time Lord realized, nodded with a smile. "Me and the wife are heading up to Dorset first thing in the morning. We're back together, it's all sorted."
Without even looking up from his laptop, Sherlock bluntly informed him, "No, she's sleeping with the P.E. teacher."
The smile slowly faded from Lestrade's face. The Doctor shot the detective another glare. He liked Lestrade, he seemed like a nice guy, and here Sherlock was trampling all over him, just like he always did.
Molly also sent the detective a glare, voice unusually sharp and sarcastic as she said, "Thanks for the update, Sherlock."
He didn't even seem to notice her tone. Sherlock finally looked up from his laptop, his sharp, intelligent gaze scanning over Molly. "Long time, no see. I see you've got a new boyfriend, Molly, and you're serious about him."
The pathologist blinked in surprise. "Sorry, what?" She sounded less confident now.
The Doctor instantly leaped to her defense. "Sherlock, don't," he warned in a low tone.
"In fact, you're seeing him this very night and giving him a gift," the detective plowed on, as though the Time Lord hadn't said anything at all.
John groaned. "Take a day off," he advised his roommate.
"Shut up and have a drink," Lestrade added edgily.
Sherlock scoffed. "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. It's for someone special, then." He rose and headed towards the bag, picking up the neatly-wrapped present. "The shade of red echoes her lipstick – either an unconscious association or one that she's deliberately trying to encourage. Either way, Miss Hooper has lurrrve on her mind. The fact that she's serious about him is clear from the fact she's giving him a gift at all. That would suggest long-term hopes, however forlorn; and that she's seeing him tonight is evident from her make-up and what she's wearing. Obviously trying to compensate for the size of her mouth and breasts..."
The detective trailed off uncertainly. He had opened the card-tag on the present, and the Doctor didn't need to be a genius to figure out whose name was in it. He didn't rarely get angry over mere words, but right now he could feel the protective anger storming inside. The Time Lord was perfectly willing to unleash some Oncoming Storm onto the detective. The only thing stopping him was Molly's expression.
The pathologist had slowly deflated in the face of Sherlock's deductions, looking more meek than the Doctor had seen her in a long time. At the end of it, however, her expression grew grimly determined, righteous anger causing her to square her shoulders and stand tall. The Doctor recognized it as the stance she took against hostile aliens. " You always say such horrible things. Every time." She seemed to be gaining more confidence, for her voice rose in volume as she told him, "I've done nothing but help you, Sherlock. I've always been there. All I expect is some simple human decency in return. I'm done being your scratching post. Got it?"
Sherlock's surprised expression turned slowly into one of horror and... regret? The Doctor almost didn't believe it, but more surprising were the next words out of his mouth. "I am sorry," he told her solemnly. "Forgive me." He stepped a little closer, but Molly backed up. She seemed willing to accept the apology, but nothing more.
The evening dissolved after that, with Sherlock saying something about needing to go examine a body. Molly couldn't help him, since she didn't work at St. Bart's anymore, but she was able to give him the number of someone who might be willing to come in. She headed down to wait in the TARDIS, but the Doctor had a bit of unfinished business first. He stopped Sherlock at the door, a firm hand on the detective's shoulder. "I thought I warned you about how you speak to my companion," he said in a low, dangerous tone.
Sherlock just blinked back at him, unimpressed. "I was not aware of the extent of the situation. I apologized," he pointed out.
"Yeah, and that's not always going to be enough," the Time Lord warned him. "Next time, think about what you're going to say before you run off being all clever." He would have said more, but Molly had defended herself rather well earlier, and he didn't want to take away from that. Reluctantly, he left the flat and returned to the TARDIS.
SCENEBREAK
The next morning, the Doctor found Molly curled up in the library, eyes slightly red as she read by the fire, wrapped in a blanket.
The Time Lord felt a pang of sympathy for his companion. She'd been tough last night, but the detective's words had still clearly affected her. He hated feeling helpless about something like this.
However, as he approached the coach she was seated on, an idea came to him. He grinned cheerfully at her. "In the middle of something?"
Molly jumped slightly at his voice, looking up from her book. "No. Why?"
With a smirk, he reached out for her hand, which she gave him with bemusement. "Because, Molly Hooper, we're going on a little surprise trip."
Hmm, what's this? No Blink, and a surprise trip? Why yes, this does, in fact, mean that there is an ORIGINAL EPISODE coming up! Unlike this version of Human Nature and Family of Blood, this is totally and completely my very own concept, only the Doctor and Molly will be included from the series...es. Although I will reveal that real people will be included, so that's there too, but the concept is mine.
The real wait begins now, because I have research to do for this story, and that's going to take a while, longer than it did for the Civil War. Which is probably good, 'cause that means I can focus on my schoolwork.