It was snowing heavily, but inside Baker Street, the fire was crackling and blankets were in abundance. The telly was pulled out to face the sofa, where Molly and Sherlock were laying together.
Having been shushed numerous times, Sherlock had finally fallen quiet and simply watched the movie playing on the screen. In his arms, Molly was watching her favourite holiday film happily. Every so often, Sherlock would press a kiss to her neck and she would smile and wrap his arms tighter around her.
As the final scene of the movie played out, the main characters singing White Christmas while snow finally fell in Vermont, Sherlock glanced down at Molly. Her eyes had fallen closed and her lips were parted, soft breaths escaping as she dozed lightly.
Sherlock traced her features with his gaze, taking in the soft nose and brown lashes.
Of all the things he'd been blessed with in his life, he counted her as the greatest of them.
Tugging the blankets higher around them, he breathed in deeply of the pine candle burning nearby and the unique scent that was his Molly and joined her in contented sleep.