Chapter 12

"Have yourself a merry little Christmas,

Let your heart be light.

From now on,

Our troubles will be out of sight."

-Ralph Blane, Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas 1943

From the street, Everleigh could see the yellow glow of the Christmas lights from 221B, silhouettes of the guests dancing in the window. It had been a long time since she'd been to any sort of Christmas party this was almost nerve wracking. Her fingers were practically frozen solid and her nose had begun to hurt from the frigid air, she needed to get inside. She remembered coming here almost a month ago with John, hearing Sherlock playing his violin, followed by an attempt at dinner with him. The butterflies in her stomach fluttered to life as she reached the front door and knocked softly three times.

"Ev! I'm so glad you could make it! Come in, come in," John greeted as he ushered her into the warmth, "Everyone's upstairs. Here I'll take your coat."

As John guided her coat off of her shoulders Ev could hear the enchanting sound of Sherlock's violin wafting from his flat upstairs. She smiled, remembering the soothing effect it'd had over her the last time and her excitement bubbled at the thought of seeing Sherlock, eyes closed in concentration, his arm gliding the bow so fluidly over the strings. It was truly a magical sight, his face serene as she could almost see the notes flowing from his mind down to his fingers, the music guiding every motion. As she walked up the stairs the song grew louder and louder, the slight murmur of people chatting muffling the beautiful notes.

When she rounded the doorway there was nothing on Earth that could stop a smile. Christmas lights hung around the mantle, twinkling white specks wound neatly around green tree garland, a table was set out with punch, eggnog and snacks and a wreath hung against the front of the door. But even without the festive decorations and people merrily lounging about, her heart would have still skipped a beat. Sherlock stood towards the back of the room, wearing a black suit and white button down underneath, not even Christmas could change that man's attire, his violin perched on his shoulder. Her memory had not done him justice she realized as she watched him play, frozen in the doorway, frozen in the moment. The world dissolved away, the only thing her mind could focus on was him, standing there, his curls, his cheekbones, the way his neck was tensed as his chin kept the instrument anchored down, his long, slender fingers lightly holding the wooden bow. He was so, beautiful. Ever since that day last week in the parking garage held loosely in his embrace, she'd realized how much she truly, wholeheartedly wanted him. It wasn't a small, fleeting attraction, it was so much more than that, deeper. She saw in him everything she knew she needed, he made her feel alive, he was strong but weak, cold yet compassionate and brilliant, he truly was a sparkle in a dull, grey world.

"Are you gonna go inside or…" John asked from behind her, snapping her eyes away from Sherlock.

"Oh. Yes, sorry," she exhaled in a huff realizing she'd been holding her breath.

There were only a few people mulling about the small flat, an older woman, Mrs. Hudson if she had to take a guess, John had mentioned her a few times. Then there was a younger woman with a sweet face, Ev had seen her around the hospital once or twice but had never learned her name. She was talking to an older man who she remembered from the day Sherlock had needed stitches above his eye, he was handsome and charismatic she figured by the way his face moved in conversation, either that or very drunk. John placed a hand on her lower back and led her into the room, introducing her around to Mrs. Hudson, as she'd guessed, Molly Hooper and Greg Lestrade. She shook hands with all three before turning her attention back to the oblivious Sherlock. He had yet to break concentration, his mind obviously off floating in it's own little world, completely detached from the current environment.

"Hello again! It's nice to meet someone else who works at Bart's!" Molly Hooper exclaimed with a happy smile on her face.

"Ah! I remember you! You stitched that seeping gash on Sherlock up a few months back!" Greg added in before taking another sip of his very spiked eggnog.

"Uh, yeah. That was me," Ev replied nervously, "Um, excuse me, I'm so sorry."

The room had gone silent; Sherlock had finally awoken from his trance. She watched as he placed his violin down and took the opportunity. Weaving through the people and furniture, she made her way to stand beside him, his eyes meeting with hers as she dodged his armchair in front of the fireplace. She could swear in that moment his face softened as he looked at her, almost took on an expression of content, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. But that couldn't be right, could it?

"You play beautifully," she complimented as she reached his side, his eyes still staring at her almost tenderly.

"Thank you," he responded, shyly averting his gaze, his lips pursed with a slight embarrassment.

"Hasn't anyone ever told you that before?"

"Not for awhile."

"Well, you do. I'd love to play the piano with you on your violin sometime, if you'd like."

"You play the piano?"

"Yes, ever since I was a girl. Does that, surprise you?"

"No."

But the furrowing of his eyebrows and movements of his eyes told her it had. She was somewhat impressed with herself for two reasons, one, being that she did have some things about her that Sherlock did not know about. And two, she was finding it easier and easier to read him, to notice the little subtle hints of what was going on underneath the mask. She hadn't known him very long, but it seemed like she'd never known a life without him in it. She enjoyed this moment, standing side by side, in a comfortable silence. He greeted his friends, talked with them, all with her standing at his side. Whether it was because he'd forgotten she was there or he was just simply okay with her presence she didn't know, but she knew it felt right and hoped he was feeling the same.

A light vibrating shook her pocket as her phone went off, both her and Sherlock's attention shooting to the soft buzz. He looked down at her pocket and then up to her, silently reassuring her if she needed him, he was here. With shaking hands she reached into her pocket and turned the screen up and the name that lit the screen up brought more dread than any blocked call would have.

"Excuse me," she whispered, unable to mask the defeat in her voice.

"Ellie? What is-? Sherlock began but was unable to finish before she'd walked out of earshot, down the stairs and out into the falling snow.

He turned his attention to the window, her small form pacing in the white flurries on the sidewalk below. Even from a distance he could see her troubled expression and he could no longer ignore the feelings kindling beneath his chest. She had taken a hold on him like no person ever had before. He found his mind wandering to her in the dark, lonely hours of the night, the way her eyes crinkled when she laughed, the blond of her hair and the deep, unending sadness in her eyes. When she was around he felt the burdens of the world melt away, his body and mind relaxed, he felt alive. She never pried, or asked unnecessary questions, and she accepted him for what he was. He could count the number of people he knew like that on one hand. No matter how hard he tried he could no longer deny his deep, unhinged attraction to her. He'd tried to reason with these feelings logically, but for once in his life he didn't have the answer. Attraction, love, those were just chemical reactions in the brain; a decrease in serotonin mixing with raging dopamine, pheromones and oxytocin, all working together to trigger reactions and give the mind the illusion of love. It was nothing more than perfectly formulated chemistry. But, science was not the answer to this, it couldn't be. He felt the urge to protect her, save her; just the thought of a frown cursing her soft, porcelain face was a crime. No, he could not downplay what he felt to neurotransmitters and libido, that was simple biology. These emotions, these feelings were not so simple.

His chest grew tight as his eyes stayed locked on Everleigh Rose down below, the snow swirling around her; it was truly a wondrous sight to behold. Her face showed no signs of relief from whatever troubles plagued her, and Sherlock could stand it no longer. Subconsciously, his feet guided him to the coat closet, and before he knew it his hand gripped the doorknob, waiting for the signal from his brain to turn it and head out into the winter night.

"Well I don't know what you want me to do… I can't just get in my car and drive all the way back to Manchester!... I'll call her in the morning… I'm sorry!... What more do you want me to say Hannah, I'm sorry… I didn't want to come home, all right! Is that what you wanted to hear?... Oh you know bloody well why… I'm not making this about you and I, or him!... I'm hanging up this conversation is over… Don't care!... Piss off…"

Sherlock stood on the stoop of 221B, listening to the one sided conversation Everleigh held with whom he now knew was her cousin. He was starting to grasp the animosity the two women held for one another, and why. Although they were barely audible, Sherlock could hear the muffled cries coming from the woman not more than ten feet away from him. Her hand had come up to cover part of her face, the other wrapped tightly around her middle, as if she was trying to hold herself together.

"Ellie?" Sherlock finally spoke, his feet softly crunching in the accumulated snow on the sidewalk.

"Sherlock," Ellie responded, wiping her eyes quickly as she turned around, "Sorry I had to take that call."

"Are you all right?"

"Of course, fine, my hands are a bit chilly I suppose. It's cold out, made my nose run."

"And I assume then that it made your eyes water as well?"

"Oh look at that, I suppose it did."

A terrible attempt at a lie if he'd ever heard one, but that didn't matter. He watched as one final tear escaped the inner corner of her eye and lolled down her rosy cheek, leaving a glistening trail in its wake. It didn't belong there. Shaking, whether it was from the cold or the nerves or both, he raised a hand from inside his pocket and wiped the cold, wet droplet softly from her cheek. Her mouth dropped slightly and her breath caught in her throat as his gentle, warm thumb grazed her skin, leaving behind a crimson glow. His eyes were transfixed on her face, soft and inquisitive, the thoughts going through his mind faster then they ever had before. His hand lingered on her cheek, shielding it from the biting cold as he took another small step towards her, and then another. She couldn't move, or think, the only thing that mattered was Sherlock Holmes standing no more than three inches in front of her, his hand on her cheek, his eyes staring at her anxious and curious. She focused entirely on the man before her, fearing if her attention went elsewhere her body would betray her. She felt weak and vulnerable and excited. She wanted him. She needed him.

He didn't know why he was doing what he was doing, but he couldn't stop either. With exercised caution he slowly moved his nose towards hers. Her lips looked so enticing, pink and trembling, that perfect little dip in the middle. Her eyes averted to his mouth, the deep, prominent cupids bow, and she watched as it slowly parted from its lower counterpart, readying for contact with her own. Her heart was hammering in her chest, every nerve reaching up yearning for more contact but she stayed perfectly still, relishing in his hand on her face, her entire being surging with anticipation.

Their noses touched first, his breath hit her, warm and inviting before his lips enveloped hers ever so gently. Kissing was just pressure between two pairs of lips, two mouths moving in synchronization, he knew that, but this was so much more. There was no feeling in the world comparable to her lips molded sweetly between his, the way their noses pressed into each other and the invulnerability he felt swelling in his heart. It felt as if they Earth had stopped spinning, everything frozen around them, leaving them completely absorbed in nothing but the other. There was nothing that could destroy him in that moment, there was only her. Every crevice of his mind was filled with her essence; how her lavender perfume mingled with the harsh city air, her satin skin beneath his fingers, her plush lips entwined with his. If Sherlock Holmes were to ever believe in heaven, this would be the moment he chose to relive for eternity.

He pulled away slightly, leaving their noses and foreheads touching, her face shrouded by the clouds of smoke billowing from ragged breaths freed by their tremulous lips. The cold stung her now flushed and warmed mouth that still tingled and shook from excitement and longing. His nose still pressed warmly against the side of hers and one stray curl tickled her forehead as his eyes opened to peer into hers once again. In them swam an intoxicating mix of fear, adoration and happiness that would make even the hardest of hearts crumble.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his warm breath again hitting her desperate, lonely lips, "I don't know where-"

She didn't want an apology or an excuse or a reason, she wanted him, again. Lunging up onto the tips of her toes she softly joined their mouths again, a little harder this time. At first her vigor had shocked him, but within moments he let go of his resolve and responded. They started at a nervous, stumbling pace but it didn't take long to develop into a fluid, ardent waltz moving as effortlessly as the ocean waves hitting the awaiting shore. His hand climbed from her cheek to weave softly into the blonde hair on the side of her head, his other arm gliding swiftly around her waist, closing the remaining inches between them. In his arms she felt warm, safe, guarded, the way his hands felt against her back and woven in her hair lit a hunger inside of her she thought had long been forgotten. She felt him changing beneath her, his entire being relaxed and gave in to its more basic desires. As her hands came to rest on his chest Sherlock Holmes completely forgot everything, just for a moment. In those brief seconds he didn't care about cases, or murder, or who might be looking out the window, the only thing he found himself able to think about was pink lips, soft blonde hair and the small, trembling woman those things belonged to. But, all good things must come to an end.

The world trickled back into his senses and soon he felt the cold air on his cheeks and heard the bustling traffic passing by, snapping him out of the trance she had so easily ensnared him in. He focused again on the way her lips moved against his, so soft and delicate, and everything he knew he could not allow to happen. To a man who suffered with addictions, this had the potential to be the most debilitating of them all.

After what seemed like hours, but had realistically only been seconds, he quickly turned his head to the side, tearing his mouth from hers abruptly before stepping back, away from her grasp and too far for his searching hands to reach. All the tenderness in his eyes had disappeared, replaced again by his masterful, practical guise. He looked at her accusingly, yet apologetically and completely confused, the carnage of his internal battle fighting its way to the surface, the reflections dancing in the pools of stone grey.

"We should go back inside," he urged, straightening his coat, averting his gaze to anywhere but her.

"Ok," she responded, trying to hide the sadness of rejection in her voice.

But had he rejected her? Not entirely, he seemed to rather enjoy it for a moment. He had initiated it. So why did she feel like he despised her, regretted every second that had passed since he stepped outside? How could anyone regret what had just transpired? The way she felt her body had perfectly molded with his, each curvature of hers matching up flawlessly with every concavity of his, and they're lips falling together like two pieces of a puzzle. Perhaps she had imagined it, romanticized the first moment of intimacy she had experienced in a long while, her naïve brain betraying her yet again. As she entered the flat through the door he held open for her, she felt the pang of longing hit her hard as her shoulder unintentionally grazed against his chest. She could still feel the warmth and solid formation of it as she awkwardly placed her hands back in her pockets. They traveled back up the stairs and into the party, there guests seemingly oblivious to their absence. Sherlock quickly made his way back to the spot she had first seen him, picked up his violin and turned to face the window as his arm stretched out before him to bring the bow down onto the awaiting strings.

A lively tune soon erupted in the air of 221B Baker St, eliciting cheers from the all the people in the room, minus two. Sherlock and Everleigh spent the remainder of the evening sneaking unsuspecting glances at one another, never at the same time, confusion clouding both of their minds and a sneaking, haunting longing taking up refuge in their hearts. A quick dance with John enlivened her mood once again, but the joy was cut short as she saw through the corner of her eye, Sherlock looking on from the kitchen, his head bowed and his eyes filled with sadness. He couldn't quite explain why he felt the way he did, jealousy, or sorrow? As he watched his friend dance with her, the way his hand was placed ever so gently on her waist where his had been just an hour before, he wanted that to be him. He felt his chest tighten as her smile grew to touch her eyes, her laugh chiming like silver bells.

When ten o'clock rolled around Ev knew it was time to leave, work at seven AM was going to creep up very quickly. John had been so kind as to walk her out to her car, the snow falling a little heavier than it had the last time she'd been outside, and much lonelier.

"Thank you, for coming. It was a really lovely evening," John beamed from beside her, his eyes crinkling from the large smile broken out on his face.

"Thank you for having me. It was very nice," she replied, sending her eyes once more to the window of Sherlock's flat, swearing she saw a tall, thin shadow watching from a distance.

"You're welcome to come by anytime."

"Thank you."

"If you need anything tomorrow be sure to let me know, Sherlock and I don't have anything planned."

"I will thanks."

"Well, Happy Christmas, and good night."

"Same to you, Happy Christmas."

John lingered for a moment, his hands awkwardly swaying in front of him, before giving one last smile and heading back to his flat, the looming figure now gone from the front window. Everleigh lingered outside of her car for a moment, replaying the events through her mind again, stopping to remember every detail of those ten minutes outside with Sherlock. The soft kisses and exploring fingers, the way her entire body shook with anticipation and the feeling of her heart fluttering from her chest into her throat. Sherlock Holmes had found and filled every empty crack of her like water flowing into a barren riverbed. Just the memory of him sent her blood pumping a little faster. Her phone went off in her pocket as soon as she'd sat in her driver's seat, the gentle vibrations sending a shiver up her spine.

Happy Christmas. –SH

So all hope was not lost, she thought, as a large smile broke free on her face.

Happy Christmas Sherlock.

Up in the warmth of his flat in the confines of his bedroom, Sherlock Holmes sat in the dark, the only illumination the white glow of his cell phone's screen. One corner of his mouth turned up as he read the simple three words sent by the woman who plagued his thoughts and sent the ripples of doubt coursing through every pillar he'd erected long ago. As much as he knew he should, he did not want to end this, nor could he even if he did.

A/N: Ahh, so I'm really excited about this chapter, please please let me know what you think about it. Too soon, too late, too sappy, just right, anyone out of character. Feedback is appreciated!

Thank you to Fat Old Sun for your review! It was very lovely talking to Benedict on the show, thank you to everyone who sent their congrats =)

I hope everyone has a very safe and happy Holiday Season and Happy New Year! I'll see you in 2014!