Title: Boxing day

Fandom: Sherlock

Summary: Sherlock shows up at Molly's on Boxing day.

Timeline: Set roughly during 'A scandal in Belgravia' a couple days after the awful Christmas party scene *cringe* poor Molly.

Word count: 1600

Character(s): Molly Hooper, Sherlock Holmes

Rated: G

Feedback: Please! It is very helpful. Concrit welcome and appreciated. Let me know what I'm doing wrong (or right).

Now, read on, readers!

Molly had resigned herself to spending the day in bed watching awful telly and eating holiday sweets when there was an unexpected knock at the door.

She sat up and froze for a moment, brow furrowing, as she wondered who could be calling on her; most of her mates had gone out of town for the holiday, and the ones who hadn't would be busy opening prezzies with their respective families. It could be work she supposed. But, if it were then why wouldn't they just ring her?

The short crisp knock sounded again, shaking her. 'Stop wondering about who might be at the door Molly and get off your lazy arse and go see, why don't you, hmm?'

Sighing, she scooted off of the bed and stuffed her feet into her fuzzy pink house-slippers, then shuffled off towards the door. She perched herself up onto her tip-toes and took a look through the peephole. She gasped and dropped back.

'What on earth is he doing here?'

She bit her lips wondering what would bring him to her door.

She scoffed silently to herself. Probably wants to drag me out to Bart's so he can work on his experiments,'She huffed crossing her arms over her chest. Well he can just forget it. I am not going and that's that. The nerve of him to even think he can come here wanting favours after the way he humiliated me the other night. Well, he can just–

"I can hear you in there, you know?" his deep muffled voice sounded through the door.

Molly's hand flew to her mouth. Had she been speaking out loud? She wondered horrified. She shook her head. No, surely not.

She heard him sigh heavily on the other side of the door. "Molly, are you going to open the door or not?" he huffed. "You're being quite rude, you know?"

I'm rude! She boggled. She wrapped her hand round the doorknob tightly and wrenched it open.

"I'm rude!" she bellowed.

"Well, not on normal basis," Sherlock smoothly replied, unruffled by the high pitch of Molly's voice, "but in this instance, yes. Very."

"Wh-what?" she spluttered. "I-you. You're the one–" Her words stopped as her eyes fell on the glossy red package in Sherlock's hand. The one she had so carefully wrapped; choosing the colour – so cleverly, she'd thought – to match the lipstick she had been wearing.

Her heart sank, breaking a little.

"God," she groaned, "don't you think you humiliated me enough? If you didn't want the gift, you could have just chucked it you know. Then I wouldn't have known the difference. You didn't have to come all the way over here to return it."

Sherlock sniffed haughtily, raising himself up even higher from his already impressive posture. "I didn't come here to return it," he told her.

Molly blinked. "You didn't?"



Sherlock slipped his hand into the right pocket of his coat and pulled out a small square box wrapped in shiny silver paper. He held it up, presenting it to Molly. "Here," he thrust it her way.

Molly stared stunned at the small package in now in her hands. Her mouth was hanging open. "I-is this for me?" she asked uncertainly, once able to form words again.

Sherlock sniffed. "Obviously," he replied. "Why would I give you a gift meant for someone else – do use your common sense, Molly. I know you possess some."

Was that the Sherlock Holmes version of a compliment?

"Well?" Sherlock prompted impatiently.

Molly just stared at him.

He sighed at length. "Are you going to invite me in or not?"

"Oh!" Molly exclaimed, her synapses finally firing again. "Right, of course. Come in."

"Thank you," he said stiffly, quickly striding passed her into the flat. He unbuttoned his coat and gracefully folded himself to sit on her sofa, crossing one leg over the other.

Molly stood in the open doorway for a moment, before shaking herself and closing the door. She moved into the sitting room and sat at the opposite end of the sofa.

"Um, well, should I open it then?" she ventured hesitantly.

Sherlock gave her a nod.

Molly's shaky fingers worked carefully at the seam of the wrapping; she didn't want to rip into it like an animal in front of Sherlock. She slid her fingertip under the lip and broke the seal, wincing when despite her carefulness, the paper ripped. She sighed and folded the paper neatly and put it on the coffee table.

Her eyes flicked up to Sherlock before lifting the lid from the box; he was watching her with his usual impassivity. She cleared her throat and opened the box. She gasped.

She delicately took out the silver bracelet from the box and held it up to better look at.

"Mrs. Hudson suggested it," Sherlock explained. "Told me women have a certain... affinity for such baubles. I chose the silver because it's best for your skin tone, and of course I knew your fondness of pink..." He waved a hand dismissively.

Molly's thumb rubbed over the smooth pink, heart-shaped stone dangling from the bracelet. She swallowed thickly, the lump forming in her throat, blinking back tears.

"What is it?" Sherlock enquired. "Don't you like it?"

"I love it!" Molly assured.

"Then why are you crying?"

"Because, it's just so beautiful," she gushed, voice strained with tears. "It's the most lovely... Oh thank you, Sherlock!" Without thinking, Molly flung herself across the sofa, arms going around Sherlock's neck.

Sherlock stiffened as Molly's arms wrapped round him. His eyes widened in that stuck rabbit stare that Molly often wore. He blinked several times, not moving, as Molly's scrawny arms squeezed him with surprising strength. Finally after a moment, he recovered himself and cleared his throat. He raised his hand to Molly's back and gave her two quick, light pats. "That's quite all right, Molly," he said. "Get a hold of yourself now."

Molly went stiff as her sense came back to her and she realised what she was doing. With and embarrassed squeak, she quickly pulled back from Sherlock, moving back across the sofa. Her face was burning the same shade of red as the still unopened present resting on Sherlock's knee.

"Erm..." Molly tucked a loose bit of hair behind her ear. "Aren't you going to open yours now?"

"Oh," Sherlock replied. "Of course." He plucked up the gift. His slender fingers deftly unwrapping the package in a blink, without a rip.

Molly blinked at the undamaged paper as he sat it down on the coffee table. God, he's perfect at everything.

She bit her lips, anxious as she watched Sherlock lift open the box. He stared down into it, his face completely devoid of anything. Meanwhile, Molly's stomach was churning.

"It's okay if you don't like it," she said quickly.

Sherlock reached into the box and curled his fingers around the sterling silver handle of the magnifying glass. He took it out and inspected the handle. The property of SH, was engraved on the side.

"I would've had them spell out your full name," Molly chittered, "but, um, it would've cost too much."

"I'm sure it was quite expensive already," Sherlock replied.

"Oh well," Molly said dismissively. "I, er, thought you could use a new one," she rambled on. "I remembered you saying something about your old one getting broke."

Yes. It had been smashed when Sherlock had chucked it across the room in a fit of boredom.

Sherlock slowly rubbed his thumb along the engraving. An odd warm tingle suffusing his chest. He quickly coughed it away.

"Yes, thank you, Molly," he said politely. "Very well done. This will be quite useful."

Molly smiled shyly at him, then looked away. She stared down at the bracelet in her hand and her smile widened. She wrapped it around her wrist and fumbled to put it on.

"Here," Sherlock said, smoothly sliding across the sofa. "Allow me." As they had done with the wrapping paper, Sherlock's fingers nimbly worked the clasp of the bracelet.

Sherlock felt Molly's pulse jump frantically under his touch, causing his brow to arch slightly. "There you are," he announced as he fastened the bracelet. Just as swiftly as he had moved to Molly's side, he was back across the sofa.

"Thank you," Molly murmured, flushing.

A moment ticked by.

"Well, perhaps I should off," Sherlock said, just as Molly asked, "Would you like some tea?"

Both stopped at the same time.

"Right, of course." Molly was the first to speak again. "You've probably got some big important case to get back to" she reckoned with an understanding smile.

"Er, actually," Sherlock drawled, "I haven't anything too pressing at the moment. I suppose I could stay for a cup of tea."

"You don't have to do that," Molly rushed.

"I know I don't have to," Sherlock replied. "I want to. Molly, I would love a cup of tea, thank you."

Molly smiled. "Well, all right. I'll just go and put the kettle on then." She spun around and started for the kitchen.

Sherlock called after her, "Two–"

"Sugars," Molly finished. "Yes, I know."

"Ah, right."

"Be back in a mo'," Molly said and continued to the kitchen.

Sherlock leaned forward and plucked up the magnifying glass from the coffee table. He rolled the handle between his thumb and forefinger; the lens catching the light and glinting. He took a breath and twisted round in his seat, angling so he could peer into the kitchen. He brought the magnifying glass to his right eye and closed the left. He decided that perhaps there was more to Molly Hooper than he had ever realised, and perhaps she deserved a closer look.


Well, there you have it, my second Sherlock fic. I am having a lot of fun writing in this fandom and have many ideas for more(all of them Molly or Sherlolly related). So please let me know what you thought – good or bad – about this. Thank you for reading!