One Perfect Christmas (After Three Not-So-Hot Ones)
Rated K, for thetranslucentwallaby on tumblr for the Sherlolly Secret Santa 2018. Enjoy!
The first Christmas Molly Hooper ever spent with Sherlock Holmes quite frankly - and not to put too fine a line on it - stunk.
On ice.
Oh, he apologized and kissed her cheek (causing her inner teenager to almost swoon with giddy happiness), but then his phone moaned and her mortification was right back, reddening her cheeks and causing her to blurt out that it wasn't her.
As if anyone thought a mere kiss from Sherlock could wring a moan out of her!
Well, actually, yes, they probably did, but that was beside the point.
The next Christmas she spent with him was, um, a bit...weird. Especially since he was, technically speaking, dead, and she was, technically speaking, attending a conference in Paris. Still, it was kind of nice, the two of them being in the same place at the same time, with that time coinciding with Christmas. Mycroft had tasked her with passing Sherlock some vital information regarding Moriarty's activities in the City of Light; she'd managed that task with no problem then spent a congenial few minutes with Sherlock before he had to dash off again.
She could still taste the cinnamon almonds they'd shared on the Rue de Rennes before he'd dipped his head to murmur a brief "Merry Christmas, Molly Hooper," and brushed his lips against her cheek before ducking off into the crowds of shoppers.
It was probably just as well she was already dating Tom at that point or she might have done something to embarrass herself.
Or was it, too bad she was already dating Tom?
Ah well, nothing to do about missed opportunities, especially ones that would likely have only led to awkward speeches about one of them being married to his work and the other one needing to get back to London and (probably) being deduced to within an inch of her life. Again.
Nope, no need for a repeat of that sort of experience.
She was actually thankful to miss out on dinner at his family's home the first Christmas after his return from the dead; his return to drugs ("for a case!") and then the whole Magnussen thing… No, it was just well that she'd been forced to decline his mother and father's invitation to join them. Someone had to cover the Christmas shift and then the fake Moriarty broadcast had happened and then...and then…
And then Mary's death. Sherlock's descent into drugs yet again. John's anger and bitterness and depression. The year from hell, topped off with a phone call from hell and all of it - every single moment, including manipulations that caused Mary's death at the hands of Vivian Norbury, all brought about by one person.
Eurus Holmes.
Because of course Sherlock and Mycroft would have a Secret Evil Sister. If anyone would, it would be the pair of them. And of course she would take over the Sinister Island Prison and make John and Mycroft and Sherlock jump through deadly hoops. And of course she would involve Molly in her machinations.
Only to spare her, in the end, after wrenching that confession out of her by means of Sherlock. Using him as the weapon and their friendship as the target.
No, Eurus had known exactly what she was doing by not actually blowing up Molly's flat after forcing Sherlock to make that phone call. Why blow someone's flat apart when you can blow their life apart instead?
Only...that wasn't how it had worked out. For once, the great, troubled mind of Eurus Holmes had miscalculated. Made a mistake. Instead of destroying a friendship she'd made it stronger. Instead of a fake "I love you" she'd wrenched a true confession out of her brother's heart and lips.
And now, this Christmas, the first Molly and Sherlock would be spending together as romantic partners, the first Christmas they would wake up together and open presents and eat with friends and family...it was perfect. Perfection born out of despair and horror, out of love and hope and years of devotion.
Not even Eurus Holmes could shake that devotion, no matter how hard she tried.
Molly smiled to herself as she opened the door to 221B using her key, the one Sherlock had pressed into her hands weeks ago, the one that hung on the keychain next to the one for her own flat.
Despite her best efforts, Eurus had failed, and Molly couldn't be happier.
"Ah, Molly, there you are."
Sherlock was standing at the foot of the stairs, smiling down at her as she closed the door behind her. Laughing, she tilted her head up as he crossed the small distance between them and took her in his arms.
"Merry Christmas, Molly Hooper," he murmured before lowering his mouth to hers for a warm, lingering kiss.
Merry Christmas, indeed.