A/N: Hello all :) It's been years but well, I've miraculously come back bearing an early Christmas piece. I've missed you all and I hope you're all doing well. This is a little sequel to a fic I'd written in 2014 called Happiness. If I did everything correctly, this should be attached as the second chapter to that story. Happy Christmas, loves, and have a fruitful, healthy 2020. x

Henceforth

Molly had never been more grateful for the flight safety demonstration that was happening right now as their flight prepared for take-off. Minutes before it had begun Molly had uncovered the 'emergency' Mycroft had sent her to attend to. Not only had she been presented with what was clearly notan emergency, she had been presented with the fact that Sherlock had wanted her to join him on his flight out of London. It was a new situation, and rather awkward.

She looked down at her hand that remained in his and would have been rather delighted had she not been so perplexed.

"Weren't you invited to the Watson's Christmas do then?" she asked, trying to steer the subject away from the fact that Sherlock Holmes might have just let slip his sentiments for her.

"I can't be invited to an event happening in my own home…" Sherlock replied in his usual acerbic manner.
"Don't be difficult, Sherlock," Molly chided. "You know what I mean."

Sherlock let out a sharp sigh and sat a little straighter, but not without releasing her hand.

"Christmas is dull…" he began again.
"Sherlock Holmes," Molly reinforced.
"It is dull," he persisted. "But if you think I'm on this flight out of London because of a Christmas do, then you're wrong."
"Tell me then," continued Molly, "Why are we going where we're going?"

They were interrupted by a flight attendant who offered a selection of beverages and asked if there was anything they needed.

"Carry on," Molly said, slipping her hand out of his so she could carefully sip the hot green tea she had asked for.

Sherlock blinked at the sharp removal of her hand, but relaxed when he saw what she had needed her hand for. He smirked to himself and looked down at his own pitch black coffee and gave it a swirl.

"I see you're no longer engaged," said Sherlock, surprising Molly at what seemed a sharp change of topic.
"Sherlock, I've not been engaged for a long time," Molly answered, "Surely you knew that."
"I did, but it was hard to forget that you had been engaged."
"What are you on about?"

Sherlock took a sharp breath in and looked back down at his coffee. How was he to articulate what he himself could not make sense of? It was akin to having static in his head but it worried him more that his heart seemed the more troubled area.

"When was the last time I'd been to Bart's?" he turned to asked Molly.
"I don't know, Sherlock," said Molly with a laugh, "A while ago, I suppose."
"I shan't bore you with the details but I know exactlywhen I stopped going to Bart's."

He did not seem like he was going to continue, but Molly could not think of anything to say either. To her relief, he took a slow sip of his coffee and then turned to her again.

"Once I'd stopped," he continued, "It felt too difficult to go back. Bart's was…us. And then suddenly it wasn't any longer."

Molly could only stare at him with a mix of incredulousness and amusement. Bart's was always them. Even when she had been with Tom, and in spite of how wrong she knew it had felt, Bart's was still alwaysthem.

"Is that why your brother sent me to you?" Molly said, smirking, "Because you wouldn't come to me?"

It was Sherlock's turn to look up at her, mortified that he had been so easy to read, yet relieved that his brother had done so.

"Yes," he blurted out. Why was this starting to feel like open-heart surgery?

His expression amused Molly and she let out a chuckle. Carefully, she placed her warm tea in its holder and reached over to plant a kiss on Sherlock's cheek. In response, Sherlock merely stared at her, his eyes blinking rapidly which caused Molly to grin at him as she watched him slowly short-circuit.

"I think I should like to send Mycroft a card too," said Molly with a grin as she turned to settle back into her seat.
"Whatever for?" asked Sherlock, putting his coffee down as he turned to face her.
"Because where we're going is much nicer than the English countryside…"

Sherlock raised an eyebrow as he stared at her quizzically.

"And also because you're much nicer than Tom," she added with a sly smile.

It was Sherlock's turn to let out a laugh as he sank back into his seat, finally feeling a sort of relief in his chest he did not realise he had needed.

"How much nicer?" he asked, turning his head toward her.
"Infinitely," Molly replied, smiling.
"In that case, try not to get engaged again," he continued, reaching for her hand.

This time, she was the one who lifted his hand to her lips and gently kissed it.

"I'll try not to," Molly remarked, eyeing him with amusement.
"That's not very reassuring," Sherlock replied, equally amused.
"Well, let's see how things are when we arrive, shall we?" said Molly.
"Yes, let's."

They sat in a far more comfortable silence than before, their hands feeling more and more at ease intertwined with each other. Neither of them could be sure of what this all meant, but at least it meant a somewhat wonderful Christmas in store for them. And if it all went well from here on, then perhaps it just might stay that way.

END