Sherlock and Molly were in a wonderful place in their relationship. They had yet to consummate it though months have passed. Both of them were silently aware of the upcoming holiday, knowing that this last memory might even be a little painful to be redone. But Sherlock was determined as he spent the entirety of November planning everything out. Molly was told by him to relax and he'd take care of it all. He only asked her to wear that same dress, but truthfully, she wasn't sure she could bring herself to do it.

Christmas Eve came around and 221B was decorated exactly the way it was five years ago. There were fairy lights, a small tree, and Christmas songs sung by crooners filling the room on a record player. The crackling fire gave off a warm glow for the atmosphere. One difference, however, was the mistletoe hanging above the doorway into the flat. Everyone was here, and as soon as he noticed Molly stepping out of the cab from his window, he waited by the door.

"Merry Christmas, Molly Hooper," he greeted her, smiling beautifully. Sherlock leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. It was chaste, but so very tender that it left her wanting—no, needing—more. He took her coat and hung it up, happy to see she heeded his request and wore that very same holiday dress, complete with the bow in her loosely curled hair.

"Merry Christmas, Sherlock," she returned happily. When he moved aside, her jaw nearly dropped. All of the members of their little makeshift family were there; John, Mary, Rosie, Greg, Mrs. Hudson, Mycroft, Anthea, Meena, as well as both of his parents. "Your family's here?"

"Surprised?" he asked.

"Very," she answered.

"I still wish he'd wear the antlers," Mrs. Hudson added.

"I won't go that far," Sherlock remarked. Molly couldn't help but giggle at the exchange. "Molly, I would like for you to meet my parents."

"Nice to meet you," Molly smiled, extending her hand towards them.

"Oh, pish posh, I'm a hugger," Mrs. Holmes told her, pulling her in.

"I don't bite, I promise," Mr. Holmes assured her, giving her a hug. "You've made our son very happy."

"Oh, yes, you most definitely have," Mrs. Holmes agreed. "You are all he could talk about when we saw him last month. It was Sherlock's turn to blush, but he was also happy that Molly now had a sense of how much he loved her. After pressing a kiss to her temple, he picked up his violin and played along with the tune sounding from the record player.

"Thought you might want one," Mary suddenly spoke up, handing her a glass of red wine.

"Thank you," Molly replied.

"Sherlock worked really hard to put all of this together," Mary continued. "I remember when he first asked for help from me and John. We were shocked, to say the least." Though the end result of Sherlock's hard work was right in front of her eyes, Molly was still in disbelief that this was happening.

The next two hours were spent chatting with everyone and even receiving an offer to dance from Sherlock when her favourite Christmas song began to play. There was laughter and reminiscing old memories. Mummy, much to Sherlock's chagrin, told stories of past Christmases from his childhood. His disapproval disappeared when he saw how much Molly was enjoying it.

"I remember the one year, he had asked for a pirate ship," Mr. Holmes added. "Obviously, it was an impossible request, but Mycroft had built a make shift one with cardboard boxes."

"That was you?" Sherlock asked his brother. When he was a child, he had believed it was Saint Nick himself, but later on assumed it was his parents.

"Guilty," Mycroft replied with a sliver of a smile. Anthea glanced up at him with adoration.

"It's getting to be Rosie's bedtime it seems," Molly remarked. She had been holding her goddaughter for the last twenty minutes who was now fluttering her little eyelashes, fighting to stay awake. "Let Sherlock and I give her the gift we bought for her before you leave." Rosie was handed off to Mary, John by her side. Sherlock picked up a gift bag from beneath the little Christmas tree behind his chair.

"Let's see what Uncle Sherlock and Aunt Molly got you," John told his daughter, gently taking her hand and reaching into the bag. What came out of it made everyone laugh, including the givers of the gift. It was a small teddy bear with a deerstalker on its head. Rosie took to it immediately, hugging it to her chest with a curious smile.

"Thanks you two," Mary told them. "We had a wonderful time!" She and John left with Rosie and it wasn't long before the flat slowly emptied. The last to leave were Mycroft, Anthea and the Holmes parents.

"Sherlock, this was so lovely, thank you," Molly told him once they were alone.

"It's not over yet, Miss Hooper," he smirked.

"Oh?"

"Come with me," he told her, taking her hand and leading her to his bedroom. "Sit right there." Molly did as she was told and sat at the edge of his bed whilst he searched for something in the top drawer of his dresser. She noticed him take out two wrapped gifts, one being the gift she gave him five years ago. "First off, this is for you."

"You didn't have to get me anything," Molly said, taking the small gift in her hands.

"I know but I wanted to," Sherlock told her. He watched as she unwrapped the gift, revealing a slim velvet box. She lifted the lid to find a gorgeous anatomical heart cameo necklace. Tears welled up in her eyes at the sight of it. "You will always have my heart, darling." He whispered this in her ear, taking the necklace out and clasping it around her neck, pressing a kiss against her pulse point.

"Thank you," her voice broke. "Sherlock, it's beautiful." Her eyes glanced down at the parcel in his hand. "You never opened it, did you?"

"No, I didn't," he admitted. "I was not worthy of your kindness then." He handed her the gift and Molly knew what he was asking her to do.

"Merry Christmas, Sherlock," she smiled brightly, handing him the gift.

"Thank you, Molly," he smiled back. Sherlock carefully slid off the ribbon and lifted the lid of the box. Inside was what looked to be a journal with a skull on the cover, tied closed with a ribbon. He simply stared at it for a few minutes before she spoke up.

"Well? Aren't you going to look inside?" she asked, a small laugh escaping. He swiftly undid the ribbon's knot and opened it to the first page where a title was written.

"Mistletoe Mysteries?" Sherlock questioned.

"I do like to write stories as a hobby when I have the time, and I wrote a series of short mystery stories in that journal for you to solve. I accounted for your way of thinking and case elements that you consider close to a ten," Molly explained. "There's puzzles and riddles, as well as medically accurate forensic reports. They all take place around Christmastime. A bit morbid I suppose."

"You did all that for me?" he asked in disbelief. What did he do to ever deserve this woman who understood him like no one else. Hell, she even understood how his thought process worked.

"Of course," she replied. "The project started when I noticed how blue you were over not having any cases for a while, so the idea was born."

"I love you so much," he told her, lowering his voice, setting the gift aside. His lips pressed against hers fervently, their tongues meeting almost immediately. "Your lips are lovely." Molly smiled at his statement. He trailed his lips down her neck and slid the strap of her dress down to kiss her shoulder.

"Sherlock," she gasped as his mouth was now caressing the soft swell of her breasts, still covered by her dress.

"You're perfect," he assured her, continuing to pepper them with kisses. It wasn't long before they divested one another of their clothes. He felt her hands on either side of his face as she made him focus on her eyes.

"Are you sure you're ready for this next step?" Molly asked.

"Yes, I very much am. Are you?" he asked in return.

"Yes, my love," she answered, allowing him to lay her gently against his pillows.

As Molly hugged herself against him, her head resting over his heart and her left hand buried in his curls, gently running through them, Sherlock pressed a light kiss on the top of her head. She still wore the necklace, refusing to take it off whilst they had made love. He couldn't imagine a better Christmas than this one. Molly's eyes fluttered closed as she drifted off to sleep, her breathing slow and even.

"Merry Christmas, darling," he whispered, soon succumbing to sleep himself.

Author's Note: If you read my stories on ao3, I have photos of the gifts at the end of this chapter on there. Also on ao3, under Phoebe_Snow's account, there is a companion piece to this chapter of the actual lovemaking scene. I collaborated with her on it.