Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters. Just borrowing for a while.

A/N: This was inspired by Sherlock's deleted entry on his website and the assumption that Arthur Conan Doyle is an author on the Sherlock-verse

Eyes Open

It's well into February when he sees the object.

It'd been forgotten in all the other more interesting things going on at 221B.

Half-buried underneath case files and books, the red wrapping now catches his eye. He retrieves it, causing some of the things on the table to fall down on the floor. He glances at the heap briefly, doesn't bother with picking anything up. John will do it eventually.

He turns the wrapped present once, judges its weight. The bow no longer looks as perfect as on the day he first held it in his hands.

He knows before opening it that it's a book, which was not what he expected. He expected gloves or a scarf or something as equally personal and sentimental. This was Molly Hooper, after all.

But no, the box contains a book. He can't deduce what sort of book it is. His reading of her had been wrong before. He didn't dare risk another miscalculation. Even if there was no audience this time.

He looks around once, to make sure he was alone and then hastily rips off the wrapping. He lets it join the rest of the mess on the floor. He opens the box and for a very long moment, just stands there, still.

Shocked again into silence by Molly Hooper.

"Upon the Distinction Between the Ashes of the Various Tobaccos" by Arthur Conan Doyle

The author's name triggers something from childhood. Rainy days, stuck inside the house, reading the adventures of Professor Challenger, someone he's always felt some affinity to.

The dress, the hair, the make-up, the earrings, none had made him take notice. Really take notice.

But this...this...

She had been paying attention.

So will he, from now on.