AN: Yay! Two today, because I forgot to post this morning and am combining it with tomorrow's. So don't miss Christmas Lights, the chapter before this. :)

Emergency. Need you at Baker Street NOW! SH

People leapt out of the way as John Watson barrelled down the street, his coat flapping at his sides as he pulled the hammer back on his gun, his dark, shadowed face promising excruciating pain to whomever found themselves on the receiving end of his bullet.

With one mighty kick, the front door of Baker Street splintered off its hinges and he bolted up the stairs two steps at a time ready to save Sherlock from whatever mess the Consulting Detective had managed to deduce his way into.

Only to find a very much alive, very much safe, Sherlock Holmes staring pensively at a table covered in shimmering holiday boxes, bags, and rolls of wrapping paper.

Heaving a few adrenaline-induced breaths, John tried to hold back his temper. 'Sherlock…'

The detective grunted but didn't turn around. 'John, yes. Finally. I expected you three minutes ago.'

'What. Are. You. Doing?'

Spreading his arms wide, Sherlock gestured at the table. 'Wrapping a present.'

Releasing the hammer of his gun, John lowered his arms and dropped his head back. He closed his eyes and momentarily considered the consequences of shooting his best friend in his right butt cheek.

Not quite worth it. I'd have to tend to the wound. And neither of us wants that.

Shaking his head to rid himself of the mental image, John tucked his gun back into his trousers and stomped over to Sherlock's side.

'You're wrapping a present?' He clenched his fists and breathed purposefully. 'You texted me that it was an emergency. I ran here from the clinic! Do we need to have another discussion about what exactly constitutes an 'emergency'?'

'It's for Molly,' Sherlock snapped disdainfully, as if that was 'emergency' enough. He picked up a roll of shimmering red paper with glittered silver snowflakes. He peered at the paper, lifted a corner and rubbed it between his fingers, before wrinkling his nose and discarding the entire roll onto a growing pile on the floor.

Placing his hands on his hips, Sherlock surveyed the remaining store of choices. 'Thus far, I have yet to find an appropriate wrapping for her gift.'

John opened his mouth, about to rip into Sherlock, then shut it with a snap. What would be the point? Counting to ten, he pushed down his frustration and turned to the task at hand.

'What's wrong with the wrappings here?'

Sherlock glanced at him in disdain.

John rubbed his forehead. 'Seriously, Sherlock. What are you looking for? What did you even get her?'

Sherlock reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small box, flipping it open with a flourish. A sparkling diamond engagement ring was nestled in the soft velvet.

John's eyes bugged as he tried to understand what he was seeing. 'You're proposing?!'

Sherlock hummed and snapped the box shut, slipping it back into his pocket. 'And I won't have to purchase a separate Christmas gift. Two birds and all that.' He smirked.

'You're all heart, Sherlock.'

As usual, John's sarcasm went right over Sherlock's curly head. 'Thank you. Now,' he clapped his hands. 'Tell me which paper is perfect for this.'

John shook his head and turned away. 'Sorry, mate. You're on your own with this.'

'No, come back! John, I need your help!'

oOo

Five Days Later

'Are they here yet?!'

'No.'

'Where are they?!'

'I don't know! They should have been here by now.'

'Wait, I think that's them!'

'Oh! Oh! It is! Now shut up!'

John harrumphed and strained his neck to look out the window. Down below, in Mrs Hudson's garden, earlier in the day they had strung fairy lights and placed jars of candles about in the mounds of freshly-fallen snow. Now they were watching unabashedly as Sherlock led a blindfolded Molly out. She shivered in the cold and Sherlock shrugged off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

He took her hands again and led her into the middle of the garden. Carefully, he reached around and undid the knot to let the blindfold fall away. Molly's face transformed into an expression of awe as she looked around.

'What did he end up choosing for the wrapping? A bag? A brain?'

John chuckled. 'He never said.'

Mary suddenly began flapping her hands. 'Oh my god, he's doing it!'

oOo

The ground was wet and cold, but Sherlock didn't care. Staring up into the face of the love of his life, he reached into his pocket.

Molly's eyes had gone wide as soon as he dropped to his knee. 'Sherlock,' she breathed in wonder.

'I spent weeks picking out the perfect ring, the perfect wrapping, the perfect words, for what I'm about to ask. But in the end, none of that matters. All that does matter is that you see me more clearly than any other person. You see past all the walls I've put up to the very heart of who I am. And you accept me. You love me for it.' He pulled out the ring, sans wrapping and box. 'So this is me, asking you to take me as I am, no packaging, no masks, as your husband.'

By now, tears were falling down her rosy cheeks.

He took her left hand and kissed the back. 'I love you, Molly Hooper. Will you marry me?'

oOo

'I think that's a yes,' Mary laughed and leaned against John, who shook his head fondly.

Down below, their friends were blissfully unaware of the falling snow covering them as they kissed, sprawled on the ground where they'd fallen when Molly had lunged at Sherlock and knocked him backward.

A sparkling diamond shone on Molly's left hand.