Chapter 4
"Maybe they're out for dinner. Maybe they texted us to meet them somewhere" she blurted out slipping a hand into her coat's pocket feverishly searching for her phone. "No text, Molly. I'm sorry to say it but my mother pulled quite a trick on us!". Molly glanced forlornly at her phone's black screen. Actually, there was no message.
"Why? Why would your mother plan all this?" she asked finding no logical answer on her own, "It's starting to freeze out here!" Sherlock replied rubbing his hands together and breathing on them, completely ignoring her question.
"Let's go inside and warm up" he then suggested matter-of-factly as he passed her in his way to the boot, "In this weather, we don't have much choice". Of course he was right. Entering the house was the most sensible thing to do.
And if indeed, as Sherlock suspected, his mother had schemed for the two of them to be alone – only God knew why -, Molly hoped the elderly woman had been foresighted enough to arrange for the house to be warm and maybe, she surely would appreciate, waiting for her and Sherlock was something warm to drink and eat.
As a matter of fact Molly was starting to feel hungry. She'd had a quick lunch at Bart's at the end of her shift of a shrimp and tomato sandwich plus an orange juice, and now her stomach was growling.
"You didn't answer my question, Sherlock" she said quietly as she lifted her suitcase to climb the few steps, "About what?" he asked stopping halfway down the porch raising a question eyebrow. Molly smiled giving him a look that meant don't play dumb, you know exactly what I mean.
"Oh!" Sherlock exclaimed smiling back and pointing to the wreath on the door, "Maybe we'll find the answer to your question right there!" he reached it and from under the wreath he pulled out a small white envelope with Sherlock & Molly written on it in elegant handwriting.
She stood on tiptoe and peeked over Sherlock's shoulder trying to read the contents but soon she had to give up her attempt – he was too tall compared to her – and finally asked curiously what was written on it.
"Dear ones, the house key is found inside the red cushion's cover above the rocking chair. Go inside and make yourself comfortable" he quoted mimicking his mother as he handed her the note.
When Sherlock opened the front door they entered a wide corridor with a staircase to the top floor on their right, a kitchen ahead of them at the end of it, a bathroom on the right and a large living room on their left.
This was the ground floor room which, seen from the outside, seemed to be lit up. But its lighting did not come from lamps or chandeliers, but from an imposing, exquisitely decorated Christmas tree.
Molly dropped her luggage and warily entered the room as if she expected someone to be inside. She looked around and was practically speechless. What she thought was a single room was actually a very large rectangular space, where living room and dining room were simply divided by an open archway.
It was all perfect. All taken care of in the smallest details. From the Christmas tree, placed between the window and the fireplace, in which the fire was burning and crackling merrily in the firebox and gave the whole place a warm and welcoming atmosphere, romantic in its own way.
To the candles in the white-gold shade scattered here and there. On the coffee table in front of the sofa and two armchairs, on the mantelpiece and all over the white shelving built-in the archway.
And what about the two Christmas stockings dangling from the mantelpiece making a fine show of themselves? Molly's heart sank as she saw the monogram of her name and that of Sherlock's sewn on them. Hers on the yellow tartan one and the S on the blue tartan.
Surely Molly would always cherish the memory of that Christmas even if it was destined to last only a few hours. Sherlock probably wanted to get back to London first thing in the morning.
She chased away the tinge of sadness that was creeping into her thoughts and, driven by curiosity, went as far as the arch, pausing to admire the elegant way in which the long table had been set. Just for the two of them. Plates and cutlery occupied only the place at the head of the table and the one to the right of it. Just in front of them was a magnificent centrepiece made with pine branches and cones, dried orange slices, red berries and holly branches.
She couldn't help but smiled broadly with contentment as she did a couple of twirls, "Welcome to Agatha's Mansion. It looks like you're having a great time!" Sherlock's baritone voice caught her off guard, "It's all very Christmassy" Molly justified herself sighing in delight and ignoring his look of pleased kindness.
She didn't care if Sherlock thought she was a fool to get excited about such things. She loved Christmas. It was the time of the year she had always preferred, ever since she was a child and she and her mother did their best to decorate their small house to cheer up the soul of her father who was already showing the first signs of the disease that in the early years of her teens would have taken him away.
"Indeed!" he answered coming next to her with his hands behind his back and an attentive look as if to ensure everything was arranged in the best way. She gave him a sideways glance, suddenly aware he was out of his coat and scarf and was about to unbutton his suit jacket as well.
Molly found herself fiddling with her fingers nervously as he shifted just enough to face her. She felt her heartbeat drumming in her ears. Sherlock's closeness was making her uncomfortable…well, no, uncomfortable was not the right word. Judging by the rush of warmth that had instantly washed over her body as soon as he had slipped off his jacket, arousal was the word that best described the state she was in.
"You better get undress". An intense silence fell between them for a few moments. Had he just said what she thought he had said? Molly swallowed and raised an eyebrow as she directed her gaze at him.
"No! I didn't mean to say undressed in the sense of taking off your clothes" Sherlock hastened to explain with a tight smile, "I meant that you…" he nervously thrust his hands into his trouser pockets stubbornly staring at the tip of his shoes as if they were the most interesting thing in the world, "You look hot…" a slight blush spread across his cheekbones as he realised his double-entendre and rectified himself "…flushed with all that stuff still on".
"Oh!" Molly looked at herself laughing sheepishly as she first unwrapped the scarf from around her neck and then took her parka off. She started to tuck them into the crook of her elbow but Sherlock gestured for her to give them to him and went and leaned them on the sofa.
Molly took advantage his back was to her to watch him intently. There was something different about him. But she couldn't have said what. Why couldn't she see him? How many times had he told her she could see him like no one else could? Yet this time there was something she was missing. The certain thing was that it was the first time she had ever seen Sherlock stammer and blush in her presence. Did that mean something? Was it really possible that he…?
"I hope you're hungry. I took a look in the kitchen, they kept our dinner warm" he said strolling idly back and shaking Molly out of her reverie, "Oh, yes I am! And, pray tell, who are they if it's only us here?". "The Baileys" he replied stopping straight in front of her, "Agatha's Mansion's handyman and his wife" he added with a wide, captivating smile that lit up his ever changing blue-green eyes.
"So if you agree we can have dinner right away" he spoke in a low conspiratorial voice leaning his head more and more towards hers. Sherlock's eyes were pretty well locked on hers and Molly felt a shiver ran down her spine. Then he grinned like a Cheshire cat.
If he was any man, it was easy to deduce he was about to kiss her, but not him. Not Sherlock Holmes. So, what was he going to do? Why was he taking up her personal space? And why did it seem to amuse him so much?
She swallowed hard, more concerned with how close his face was to hers than with her empty stomach. She felt her breathing becoming more laboured and her heart racing in anticipation of what his move would be.
"What's the matter, Molly? You look worried" he whispered narrowing his eyes. His mouth so close to hers that she could feel his warm breath caressing her skin. "Um…no, it's okay. I'm just starving…shall we?" she babbled, glancing at the laid table as instinctively stepped back.
"Soon" Sherlock replied as shortened the distance she had placed between them with a long step, "But first, there is no avoiding the inevitable" his head leaned towards hers again.
Molly raised a questioning eyebrow. Sherlock gave her a quick smile, obviously enjoying talking in riddles, and she frowned even more crossing her arms over her chest. He then raised his eyes to the archway's middle under which they both were and she found herself following his gaze, "Mistletoe, Molly" he whispered, "Isn't it a Christmas tradition to share a kiss under mistletoe?".
Molly looked at the dangling twig and let out a noise that was somewhere between a snort and a sob. Mistletoe! That's all of course! She giggled again as she lowered her arms to her sides and her body relaxed. No danger of a real kiss, after all.
She didn't hold back another chuckle as she noticed the frown with which he was looking at her. "Do you find this funny?" Sherlock asked, a hint of indignation in his baritone voice, "I thought you took Christmas tradition seriously!" he complained pouting a bit.
Molly tried to still her laughter and playfully punched him in the chest, "Of course, I do!" she affirmed, "I'm not laughing at this or at you! It's because of a stupid thing that popped into my mind!" she explained standing up straight, "But now here I am!" she cleared her throat and folded her hands in front of her, "Whenever you want" she smiled and closed her eyes, ready to receive his auspicious kiss on her cheek.
A few seconds passed but nothing happened so Molly opened one eye to see what Sherlock was waiting for. "What's up?" she asked, "Um, I was just wondering what the stupid thing was you were thinking about". She blushed under his penetrating gaze, made a little it's-not important gesture with her hand and closed her eyes again.
"If it's such a silly thing why don't you tell me?" he insisted. Molly opened her eyes and glared at him, "And why do you have to make it a state affair, Sherlock?" she let out an exasperated sigh, "Because if you don't want to tell me, it means that it isn't that stupid!".
She rolled her eyes, "I told you it's nonsense. It's not worth me to tell you" she asserted as calmly as she could, "I'm famished…can we move on, please?" she asked pointing to the mistletoe. Sherlock seemed to give in as he took a step closer and leaned his head towards her right cheek, "Let me judge whether it's worth knowing or not".
"Oh, Jesus! You're insufferably infuriating, Sherlock Holmes!", Molly grumbled fed up with his wheedling. He smirked and winked at her, "I know. If you want me to stop, just tell me what you thought was so funny". She purposely avoided his eyes and whispered "Okay. I was thinking you…you were going to kiss me. A proper kiss, I mean".
Sherlock didn't say a word nor did he turn away from her, "Told you. Stupid thing". On instinct Molly stood on her tiptoes and took hold of his shirt's collar pulling him to her so she could reach his cheek, "Now let's wrap this up and have dinner".
Suddenly Sherlock turned his head and pressed his lips against hers. It was a matter of seconds and the simple contact of lips against lips became a real kiss. Sherlock was a little tentative at first, like it was his first time, but then he grew in confidence.
His arms came up around her back holding her firmly to him and tilted his head opening his mouth to her. Sherlock's tongue slid into Molly's mouth and twisted around her own, it just had her moaning in response.
Just when she was completely losing herself in the kiss, Sherlock broke away and there was nothing left for her to do but gently get back on her feet. They looked at each other for a few seconds without speaking. Molly felt lightheaded and was breathing heavily but was happy to see that even Sherlock seemed to be affected by the intensity of their kiss.
After clearing his throat he walked towards the door giving her a long last look, "Feel like helping me get our dinner on the table?" he asked leaving the room. Molly stood there watching him go with her heart pounding in her chest.
What the hell had just happened?