Chapter 1

Molly looked at the reflection of her petite figure in her bedroom's mirror. She had woken up with Sherlock's mother's rather cryptic text still in her head. The notification had gone off the night before, just before she went to bed and the text simply read, BREAKFAST AT MYCROFT'S TOMORROW. A CAB WILL COME AND PICK YOU UP AT 8.15 AM ON THE DOT – VH.

It had taken her by surprise. Why on earth did the elderly lady want to meet her? She really saw no reason. And then why at Mycroft's house and not at Sherlock's in Baker Street? Had the latter perhaps done something that had irritated his mother? Molly couldn't rule it out.

But if that were the case, why turn to her? She was not particularly familiar with the elderly couple. Since Molly had known Sherlock, the times she had met his parents could be counted on the fingers of one hand, excluding some social occasions in the last few months.

The first time had been an unexpected meeting. Almost a year after she helped Sherlock fake his own suicide Mr and Mrs Holmes had turned up in her office at Bart's as they had wanted to thank her for being such an invaluable help to their son.

They had met a second time shortly after Sherlock's return from his mission against Moriarty's crime network. The twosome had gone to see him but he had in fact thrown them out of his flat on the arrival of a blond and not very tall man – John of course – so they thought of her and invited her to have tea to find out how she was doing.

Then there was the time they met briefly outside Sherlock's hospital room where he was hospitalized after a second surgery following a gunshot wound. Later she had seen them again about three weeks after the Sherrinford events, when Mr and Mrs Holmes had requested to meet with her privately.

She perfectly remembered the kind and heartfelt words Violet Holmes spoke as she expressed her deep consternation at how her daughter had taken advantage of Molly's feelings towards Sherlock to play cat and mouse with her two brothers, John Watson and Molly herself, "Although, as far as I could understand, her purpose was not to expose your feelings, but my son's".

"Yeah, maybe" Molly whispered to herself as she grabbed two strands of hair and started braiding them. But what was the outcome of those three minutes, the worst of both of their lives? Humiliation and grief and disappointment and embarrassment and, in a way, relief.

Relief at no longer having to hide that she loved Sherlock Holmes. She had always loved him and would always love him. Relief at knowing that Sherlock Holmes loved her too. He meant what he said. The I love you wasn't just a code to save her. It was what he felt. No doubt about that.

However for him love was not enough a reason to be in a romantic relationship. It was quite evident to Molly that he didn't know, or didn't want or maybe didn't feel ready, to act on his feelings for her. So when he came to her door in the afternoon of the following day, she had not say a word about what they had mutually confessed.

She had accepted his explanation and apology and had agreed to lay new foundations for their friendship. A sentiment he felt comfortable with and that allowed her to stay in his life.

Ten long months had passed and rebuilding their friendship hadn't been easy. It had taken patience, perseverance and love but it could be said they had made it. They were in fact best friends, without diminishing the friendship between Sherlock and John of course.

And once that that goal had been achieved, Molly still felt like something was missing. She had felt like being in deadlock for weeks as she couldn't figure out what that something was.

Until one day, entering the lab, Molly had found Sherlock sitting at his usual work station, the one where his favourite micro was. The urgency to run her hands through his curls, to hug him tightly, to kiss him had revealed itself in actual physical pain. Her heart had started pounding in her chest, her stomach had tightened into a knot and tears had welled up at the edge of her eyes.

She had had to run away, take refuge in the locker room to avoid him coming looking for her for any reason and asking her why she was in such a state of distress.

There, at that very moment, Molly had realized his friendship was no longer enough. It was useless to keep lying to herself. She wanted more from him, but she was painfully conscious she couldn't have him and none of that would ever change.

Her wife's boss, Muriel Stamford, had been the only one to notice her inner turmoil, "Oh Molly, darling…you can't go on like this. Mike's best man's son works in Edinburgh at Medical School. If you want I'll ask Mike to call him and ask him to test the waters for a job".

So, albeit with deep regret, Mike had provided Molly with an opportunity to carve out a new life for herself. A new life away from London, from all of her friends and from Sherlock Holmes.

Molly's eyes instinctively rested on the drawer of her bedside table inside which were locked two letters. One of them contained a job offer. The prestigious University of Edinburgh in addition to a two-year teaching assignment for a postgraduate course in clinical pathology, also offered her a prominent position within the forensic pathology staff. In the other was her resignation from Bart's. Not signed yet.

Molly had decided to take the advice of Mike's friend's son, professor Edwin Jones, and go to Edinburgh herself and have a look around. So, as soon as the notification came on her phone that the cab was waiting for her in front of her building, she slipped on her heavy green parka and wheeled her suitcase out of her flat.

Breakfast with Mr and Mrs Holmes would not have taken up more than an hour of her time, so she asked the driver to come back and pick her up around ten o'clock so as to be at the airport perfectly on time to complete all the formalities before boarding her flight to Scotland.

An invitation. That had been why Sherlock's mother had summoned her for breakfast. An invitation for the Christmas festivities to an old estate near Bath which the old lady had inherited from her grand-parents and which was spacious enough to accommodate all who she called upon, "I wish to spend a merry Christmas with all those who have been close to my family and Sherlock in particular during this terrible year".

She smiled blushing a bit under Mrs Holmes's intense gaze, "He'll come?" she asked mildly incredulous sipping her tea and glancing at the woman from under her lashes, "Of course he will, my dear, why shouldn't he?".

Molly straightened up in her chair as she gently brushed the napkin over her lips and then placed it on her thighs, "Because Sherlock hates everything about holidays, atmosphere and Christmas gifts in the first place".

Mrs Holmes exchanged meaningful glances with her husband and let out a hearty laugh, "Oh, my dear, don't worry, I know how to get my son to do what I want him to do. He'll come. So do you too, right? Just say yes".

Molly found herself twisting the knife with which she had buttered her toast in her hands, not quite knowing what to say. Common sense advised her to refuse. Though she didn't know who else Mrs Holmes had invited, Molly feared she wouldn't feel comfortable being in such close contact with Sherlock given the overbearing rekindling of her feelings for him, plus surrounded by his family.

"Is there a problem, my dear? Do you think Stamford won't give you a few days off?", Violet Holmes had placed her hand gently on hers looking at her with concern. "No, no!" Molly promptly denied, "The thing is, I'm caught up in a lot of things lately".

"One more reason to relax and take your mind off" she pushed, "Sherlock will pick you up next Tuesday. The next day will be the last day of the Christmas market in Bath and I assure you it is well worth a visit. At your leisure Sherlock will drive you back home on Boxing Day. What's your take on this?".

Molly remained silent for a few seconds, "If I remember correctly I have the morning shift on Tuesday". "Well, that's fine. You'll be at Agatha's Mansion for dinner" the old lady folded her hands in prayer, "Say yes, please. It will be memorable days".

She couldn't help but smile at the almost girlish enthusiasm displayed by Sherlock's mother and nodded. After all if the meeting with Edwin Jones went as she hoped, those would be the last days in which she would see Sherlock.