A/N: Okay, firstly, apologies for not getting this up sooner. Secondly, this is the first time I've written Molly, I'm not entirely sure I like how it turned out, but I thought I'd give it a go (please don't hate me if she isn't how you see her). Thirdly, I came up with the idea for day nine's gift a week before Christmas when I was planning this story, before series 3 began, I know you may not believe me, but I swear it's the truth! :)

If you like this story, please review, I enjoy receiving them :-). I still don't own any of this!

Please enjoy! :-D

On the 9th day of Christmas my true love gave to me ...

3rd January

The door to the laboratory swung open as Molly pushed her way inside, both arms full of files threatening to spill over. Putting them down on the first workbench she came to, Molly noticed that all of the lights were already switched on. As she looked around the large room, she saw the brown curly hair of her favourite consulting detective as he bent over his work, thoroughly absorbed in his latest experiment.

Molly cleared her throat and with a shy smile, she stammered, 'H-hi, Sherlock.'

There was no response as Sherlock continued to work at the bench. Suddenly a message flashed up on the computer monitor situated to the left of his work area. Putting down his beaker and glass stirring rod, Sherlock glanced across at the monitor and smiled in satisfaction. Hitting a few keys on the keyboard, he pulled up a report of the results from his most recent sample to have been run through the Mass Spectrometer, then picking up his notebook and a pen, he jotted down a few notes. Realising that he was no longer alone, he looked up and saw Molly watching him from the doorway.

'Ah Molly, there you are. I need you to run some tests for me later. I've prepared the samples for analysis.' stated Sherlock as he leaned over and picked up a box from the floor, placing it on the bench.

'Okay.' replied Molly with a smile, as she stepped forward to take a look through the box, at the assembled samples. 'Did you have a nice Christmas?'

'No! The criminals were mind-numbingly boring. There were no decent crimes at all' Sherlock answered sulkily, his brow drawing down into a petulant frown.

'Oh ... okay.' Molly rapidly lapsed into silence, unsure how to respond further to Sherlock's remark. She looked around in desperation, searching for a change of subject. Noticing Sherlock's coat, Molly smiled and said, 'that's a nice badge on your lapel.'

Looking across at where his coat was lying on the bench, Sherlock opened his mouth to answer, when he glanced across at the young woman. Eyes narrowing in thought, Sherlock stared hard as he closed his mouth, his piercing blue gaze devouring every detail of the white coated pathologist standing in front of him. "Is it Molly?" thought Sherlock. He had initially dismissed her as unimportant, but maybe that was all a big bluff. "Was she intelligent enough to do all of this? Well she does occasionally assist him in his experiments, though it is mostly the fetching and carrying. Obviously she was nowhere near as intelligent as he, himself, was but very few people were." Sherlock thought with a quiet sigh, as the memory of all of the gifts he had received so far whizzed through his mind.

Pulling himself out of his reverie, Sherlock watched as Molly became more nervous, the longer the silence lasted. He smirked slightly as he reached out a hand to lightly caress the gift he had received for day two. Watching the young doctor out of the corner of his eye as he stroked the metal surface, he replied 'yes, it's lovely, isn't it? Such a thoughtful gift, wouldn't you say ... Molly?'

Molly's eyes darted to his as a light blush covered her cheeks. 'A ... g-gift?' she stuttered.

'Mm, yes.' replied Sherlock, as he removed his hand from the badge, picked up his coat and began to put it on, standing up as he did so. Pulling his new scarf from his pocket, he wound it around his neck and walked over to the door. As he pushed his way through the opening door, he leant back, looked Molly directly in the eyes and said, 'I'll need those results by tomorrow morning. Okay?' before smiling widely and walking out into the corridor and on to the street outside.

Arriving back at Baker Street, Sherlock strode up the stairs to the flat, and opened the door. Standing in the doorway, Sherlock looked around, his brain cataloguing all of the changes that had occurred while he had been at St. Bart's. Mrs. Hudson had been in, tidying again. Lestrade had also visited, that insatiable curiosity of his. Sherlock grinned.

Sherlock froze, something was out of place, something new, something that hadn't been there when he had left the flat that morning. Laying on the coffee table was an A4 sized plain brown envelope. Moving closer, he saw his name printed on the front. Sherlock picked it up and examined it. The envelope was completely unremarkable, and could easily be purchased from any stationery shop or post office. Opening it, Sherlock pulled out two sheets of paper, one of which looked like a voucher of some kind. Looking down at it, his eyes widened in surprised delight as his lips curved upwards in a rare genuine smile. He placed the voucher back down on to the coffee table and opened up the other sheet of paper to read the note printed on it. 'My dear Sherlock, not too much longer to go before I reveal my identity to you, or maybe you have already guessed, my beautiful genius. For day nine, I enclose for your pleasure a gift certificate for the royal ballet at the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden. I hope you will find a performance you wish to see, and maybe you can be persuaded to take a friend. Always, Your True Love.'

Sherlock smiled softly as he thought of the pleasure he would get from seeing the men and women of the royal ballet perform on stage. Picking up his mobile, he logged on to their website to look at the upcoming season for the possibilities open to him.