A/N - Another long chapter! We are just skipping through the holidays here 😂

Get comfy and enjoy!

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November and most of December flew by quicker than you could say 'retired thief'. The month was quiet in terms of Moriarty's activity once again. Quiet in terms of any cases surrounding the Forty Elephants also.

Elizabeth was really starting to believe that Jim didn't intend to harm her.

Come late December, the thief and detective grew ever closer and yet still remained distant outside the parameters of 221B. It was frustrating for Elizabeth to live with a man such as Sherlock, who she would deem a Jekyll and Hyde. The only difference with Sherlock's Hyde was that he wasn't violent; just cold.

Sherlock merely wanted to protect her. Being a consulting detective, one made enemies with the criminals one discovered. And knowing that Elizabeth would already have made enemies of her own, not only through her work but also by the mere fact of knowing Moriarty, he didn't want to add any more unwanted attention.

Of course, Elizabeth may have been far more understanding had he just explained this too her.

"I just feel like it's an act, Sherlock. Like - like I'm a secret. You freak out when we hold hands in public, for God's sake."

"It's not an act, Elizabeth. I care for you, I swear it. And besides, I am...affectionate."

"Yes, within the safety of 221B. But even then Sherlock, I'm still the one to initiate most of the embraces and most of the kisses. I don't ask for much but seriously? I can count the number of times you have initiated any displays of affection in the last four weeks on my right hand."

Sherlock said nothing, just looked at her from his chair with a distressed expression.

She sighed, "I know you are not totally new to this. Mycroft mentioned you had a school sweetheart - "

"What?"

"But seeing how you are now - "

"Who? "

"Just makes me wonder who dumped who? The reason is obvious, it's just a matter of who let who down?"

"Elizabeth - "

"I just want you to try a little more, Sherlock. For me. I know you say you are married to your work but still. Relationships are two-way systems. It requires both of us to make an effort. At the moment, I feel like I'm doing all the hard work."

At this point, Sherlock stood, practically lunging over to Elizabeth, just to take her hands in his. He gently massaged her knuckles with his thumb:

"I'm sorry you feel that way." He spoke genuinely, "I just - I want to keep you safe."

"I am safe."

"But you're not. Just being here with me, puts you in danger too. Moriarty might have let you go but what about the people you've wronged in the past? People like Scarlett? And then there are the people I have wronged, the kind of people who will try to get to me through the people I hold closest in my life."

"Sherlock, it's my choice to be here. I asked you to protect me from Moriarty -  not the world. I know the risks. But I want to be here for you, with you. I wouldn't be here otherwise."

Sherlock's one hand rested her cheek, his thumb brushing a strand of hair away, "I do care for you."

"I care for you too. All I ask is that you put in the same amount of effort as I am so it feels less one-way."

Sherlock didn't speak. He simply expressed his response through the action of pressing a meaningful kiss against her forehead and holding her close to him.

The last thing he wanted would be to lose her. At least through their communication, he now understood that what he was doing wasn't being read in the way he intended it.

Elizabeth was just thankful that it turned out he wasn't losing interest in her. The many texts from Irene always gave her a twinge of jealousy, especially when he was always so quick to look at the messages.

Sherlock was the best thing that had happened to her. Learning that he was attempting to protect her actually made her feel a little warmer inside. She felt bad for reading it wrong but it just went to show how important communication was in a relationship.

"Have you two seen where I - oh, sorry, am I interrupting?" John had walked into the room but was all ready to back out when he saw them having a moment.

"Ah, John's time keeping is impeccable as ever when it comes to ruining a 'moment'." Sherlock muttered as Elizabeth pulled out of their embrace.

John rolled his eyes, "Well, I'm sorry but it's not like you put up a neon sign saying 'intimate moment, do not disturb' outside the flat."

Elizabeth chuckled, "It's fine John, he's just being a drama queen."

"Yeah, you're telling me." He smirked.

Sherlock just stood there with a cute grumpy frown on his face. He wasn't a drama queen. Honestly, how could they think such a thing of him? Sherlock Holmes, a drama queen. Of all the things he had heard, this one by far was the most untrue.

"Stop sassing us in your mind palace." Elizabeth playfully whacked his arm.

"What? I'm not - "

"You have that look."

"What look?"

"The sassy eyes look. It goes with your whole drama queen demeanor."

"Sassy eyes?"

"Yes, sassy eyes."

John was chuckling away, "Um, so, are you two ready for this evening?"

"For the Christmas party? Um, no. I'm going to have to go change. You look adorable in your Christmas jumper, John."

"I mean, is it really Christmas if you don't wear a jumper?"

"No, it's not!" She threw a look back to Sherlock who was stood by his violin, "Do you have a jumper, Sherlock?"

The detective scoffed, "Please. I don't indulge in such sad, childish ideals."

"Thanks mate." John grumbled.

"Ouch. I'm going to be wearing a jumper Sherlock."

He spun around, apology plastered on his face, "I mean, I - jumpers are great, lovely garments, very...woolly - "

Elizabeth grinned, "Liar. At least you were honest the first time."

"I - I'm sure you'll look lovely in your jumper."

"I won't. They're terrible things but, as John said, is it really Christmas if you don't wear one?"

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

By the evening, the weather outside was frightful, what with the snow beginning to fall, while the delightful fire crackled on in 221B. Fairy lights were strung up around the flat along with being festooned by a multitude of other Christmas decorations. Christmas cards were delicately displayed upon the top of the mantle and the Christmas tree stood in the corner.

Elizabeth found it really was the most wonderful time of the year when you were surrounded by people you could finally call proper friends.

Lestrade, Mrs Hudson, Elizabeth, John and his current girlfriend, all sat quietly as they listened to Sherlock play a harmonious version of 'We Wish You A Merry Christmas' on his violin. Elizabeth sat on the other side of the living room table, her head resting on her hand as stared at Sherlock lovingly. She didn't think she would ever get tired of hearing and watching him play with such focus and dramatic elegance. He was a dream. A sentiment most definitely would not associate with the detective.

He finished, taking a bow as they clapped and cheered and complimented him.

Mrs Hudson giggled, "I wish you could have worn the antlers."

"Some things are best left to the imagination, Mrs Hudson. And some tricks can't be used twice." He looked to Elizabeth.

She grinned. Earlier the thief had tried out her Halloween trick again but to her dismay, he saw it coming from one hundred miles away. The detective approached her, placing his violin down in the case beside her.

"What did you think?" He asked.

"What I always think."

"And that is...?"

"If I compliment you anymore, your ego will become too impressive."

"Ha ha." Sherlock rolled his eyes, taking her hands and pulled her up off the chair, "What did you really think?"

"What I always think." She repeated with a smirk, "That it was beautiful."

Sherlock smiled warmly at her. Having thought about their conversation earlier, he was tempted to try and rectify his mistake. Part of him wanted to announce to the room that they were together - so long as Elizabeth was comfortable with it. He could deal with his close friends knowing. And to be able to spill the beans in the safety of 221B was all he could ask for.

"There's mistletoe above the door." She spoke as if reading his mind, "If ever you have a change of heart this evening and feel like showing some affection."

Sherlock nodded, "I would like them all to know."

"I mean half of them already do."

"Well, yes - "

John's girlfriend appeared next to them with a tray of cakes and mince pies and offered it to them eagerly. Elizabeth thanked her as she took a mince pie but Sherlock declined.

"No thank you, Sarah."

Elizabeth's eyes widened at the name he had called her, "Sherlock."

John's girlfriend's face dropped at being called the wrong name.

"Uh, no, no, no, no, no." Overhearing this, John rushed over, "He's not good with names!"

She put the tray of goodies down on the table, crossing her arms as she waited between John and Elizabeth. The three of them all looked at Sherlock expectantly.

"No-no-no, I can get this...No, Sarah was the doctor; and then there was the one with the spots; and then the one with the nose; and then...who was the one after the boring teacher?"

"Nobody."

"Jeanette!" He grinned falsely, "Ah, process of elimination."

John shook his head, Elizabeth face-palmed and Jeanette just glared at the detective. Who wouldn't? John quietly herded Jeanette away from Sherlock, embarrassed his friend couldn't get his current girlfriend's name right.

"We really need to work on your people skills." Elizabeth muttered as she took a bite of her mince pie.

"Please, I'm the last person who needs to work on them."

At this, Elizabeth nearly choked on the mouthful of mince pie.

Sherlock noticed Molly coming up the stairs and muttered, "Oh dear Lord," having already deduced what she was wearing.

Molly walked into the flat with two bags of presents in hand, her hair and face looking a bit more glammed up than Elizabeth, who wore no make-up and a messy bun. Everyone greeted her cheerfully.

"Hello everyone! Sorry, hello. Er, it said on the door just to come up."

Elizabeth went over to greet Molly and helped her set her bags of presents down, "Hiya, I believe the first time we met was when you were a zombie bri - woah..."

John stood ready to grab her coat and scarf as she slipped them off, "Let me, er - holy Mary!"

Even Lestrade muttered an astonished, "Wow."

And it was at this point in the party that the Elizabeth began to feel a little underdressed. No one had said it was going to be such a formal event. And yet here Molly was dressed in a stunning black dress whereas the only stunning thing about Elizabeth's Christmas tree jumper was that it had twinkly lights on it.

"Having a Christmas drinkies then?" Molly chirped.

"No stopping them apparently." Sherlock muttered to himself as he went to sit at the living room table.

"It's the one day of the year where the boys have to be nice to me so it's almost worth it." Mrs Hudson smiled.

Elizabeth made her way back over to Sherlock who had opened John's laptop. She sighed. It was a party with his closest friends. Would it really kill him to try being a little bit more welcoming and sociable? She dismissed the thought. Sherlock would be Sherlock.

"What are you up to now?"

"Research."

"For what?"

He shrugged and called for his friend, "John?"

The army doctor joined them, "Hm?"

"The counter on your blog still says one-thoudand-eight-hundred and ninety-five."

"Oh no, Christmas is cancelled." John said in mock anger.

Elizabeth frowned thoughtfully, "Yeah, it hardly matters Sherlock."

"And you've got a photograph of me wearing that hat?"

John defended, "People like the hat."

"No they don't. What people?"

"People like me." Elizabeth smirked at him, brushing her hand along his arm, "Gives you a certain edge."

Molly watched this small interaction and could feel the her heart skip a beat as she saw how flustered Sherlock had gotten. She had thought he had said that Elizabeth was a friend? Of course, she would be happy for Sherlock if he was happy but the little tinge of jealously lingered. Turning to Mrs Hudson, she tried to distract herself with a conversation:

"How’s the hip?"

"Ooh, it’s atrocious, but thanks for asking."

"I’ve seen much worse, but then I do post-mortems." She realised how horrifically terrible her joke was when silence fell across the room, "Oh, God. Sorry."

Sherlock spoke monotonously in reply, "Don’t make jokes, Molly."

"No. Sorry." Molly's eyes looked to the floor but Lestrade brought her a glass of wine, "Thank you." She took a much needed sip before moving the conversation onto Lestrade, "I wasn’t expecting to see you. I thought you were gonna be in Dorset for Christmas."

"That’s first thing in the morning, me and the wife. We’re back together. It’s all sorted." Lestrade smiled.

"No, she’s sleeping with a P.E. teacher."

"Sherlock!" Elizabeth whacked his arm.

Lestrade remained silent. How the tables turned. The smile remained fixed on his face but eventually the unfortunate reality of Sherlock being a reliable source of information, regardless of his bluntness, dawned upon the detective. He went to fetch another glass of wine. He would clearly need it.

Elizabeth now leaned against the desk, facing everyone else instead of Sherlock as she remained in a minor huff with him. He couldn't have been kinder, could he? No. Of course not. It wouldn't be Sherlock then, would it?

"And John. I hear you’re off to your sister’s, is that right?"

"Yeah." John nodded.

"Sherlock was complaining..." Molly's eyes had darted to Sherlock and then back to John again after seeing his reaction, "Saying."

"First time ever, she’s cleaned up her act."

"I'm glad to hear that, John." Elizabeth added with a smiled, "It's no mean feat to wean yourself off of an addiction. I hope she's proud."

"Yep, we're all proud of her now she's off the booze."

"Nope." Sherlock interjected.

"Shut up, Sherlock." The doctor instructed.

"And you, Elizabeth?" Molly questioned, "Are you doing anything special this year, seeing family at all?"

"Uh, no. No. I don't really have any family any more."

"Oh I'm sorry - "

"No, it's alright, you didn't know. I shall be spending my Christmas here with Mr Scrooge. Wish me luck." Elizabeth joked instead.

"So you haven't got someone special then either?"

"Well, I - "

"I see you’ve got a new boyfriend, Molly," Sherlock interrupted, turning his head to look at her, "And you’re serious about him."

"Sorry, what?"

"In fact, you’re seeing him this very night and giving him a gift."

John muttered, "Take a day off."

And Lestrade brought Sherlock a small glass of whiskey, "Shut up and have a drink."

"Oh, come on." Sherlock continued, "Surely you’ve all seen the present at the top of the bag – perfectly wrapped with a bow." The detective stood now, "All the others are slapdash at best. It’s for someone special, then."

Sherlock picked up the present and continued his 'party trick', "The shade of red echoes her lipstick – either an unconscious association or one that she’s deliberately trying to encourage. Either way, Miss Hooper has 'luuv' on her mind. The fact that she’s serious about him is clear from the fact she’s giving him a gift at all. That would suggest long-term hopes, however forlorn; and that she’s seeing him tonight is evident from her make-up and what she’s wearing."

Noticing how uncomfortable Molly was, Elizabeth tried to put her hand on Sherlock's arm, muttering his name sternly, "Sherlock, stop - "

But he pulled away, smiling smugly at the other people in the room, too engrossed with his deductions, "Obviously trying to compensate for the size of her mouth and breasts..."

He trailed off as he read the label on the present:

Dearest Sherlock
Love Molly xxx

Sherlock froze. The room was soundless. The cogs turned in Sherlock's head as it dawned on him what horrible thing he had done. Damn his arrogance. Elizabeth was shocked at the things he had said as though he had no filter. She knew Sherlock was better than this. Or did she? He had in fact done this to almost everybody in the room. It was a cruel thing he had done and for what? Attention? An ego boost?

Molly broke the silence, on the verge of tears, "You always say such horrible things. Every time. Always. Always..."

Sherlock moved to leave but changed his mind, "I am sorry. Forgive me."

Everyone was amazed by his words. It was rare to get an apology from Sherlock. John thought that this was thanks to Elizabeth carefully and slowly chipping away at machine to find the human in him. Elizabeth was just thankful that he knew what he had done was wrong.

He took a step towards her, "Merry Christmas, Molly Hooper," And gently pressed a kiss to her cheek.

It was sweet. She was stunned. He was - human.

But it was all ruined by an erotic sigh.

Molly's eyes widened, "No! That wasn’t - I – I didn’t - "

"No, it was me." Sherlock said.

Lestrade's face was one of confusion, "My God, really?!"

Molly was mortified by the thought, "What?!"

The detective rolled his eyes as he fetched the phone from inside his blazer pocket, "My phone."

John muttered, "Fifty-seven?"

Seemingly irritated, Sherlock asked, "Sorry, what?"

"Fifty-seven of those texts – the ones I’ve heard."

"Sixty-five, actually." Elizabeth muttered, glaring more so at the phone than at Sherlock as her jealousy crept in.

"Thrilling that you’ve been counting." His text read 'mantelpiece'.

On top of the fireplace was a small box, wrapped in blood-red wrapping paper and tied with a thin black rope. Sherlock felt his stomach turn. She couldn't be - could she? The Woman couldn't really be dead - could she? Dread flooded through him, a feeling he was not accustomed to at all.

"’Scuse me." He headed into the kitchen.

John turned in his seat, "What – what’s up, Sherlock?"

"Are you okay?" Elizabeth tried to ask.

"I said excuse me."

"D’you ever reply?"

Sherlock ignored John and walked straight into his room, almost robotically, and swinging the door semi-closed behind him.

Elizabeth glared at John, "Was that really the best question to ask?"

John threw his hands up in defence as Elizabeth went after him, John following closely behind. The two friends lingered by the door, listening to Sherlock's side of his phone call, concern written into the lines their foreheads made.

"I think you’re going to find Irene Adler tonight." He paused, "No, I mean you’re going to find her dead."

Sherlock hung up, feeling the gazes on his back. Standing, he walked towards the bedroom door to see Elizabeth and John hovering there, shaken by the news he had just revealed.

"You okay?/You alright?" They asked simultaneously.

"Yes." Was his response as he shut them out.

The detective stared off thoughtfully once he did. Sherlock didn't mean to do that but he didn't know how else to process it other than alone.