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She was surprised to hear the knock on Mycroft’s door. Not many people came by, and Andrea had her own key. It was probably a caroler, she thought to herself as she went to look at the video feed of the entryway.
It was Sherlock.
Surprised, she opened the door and saw he had some gifts in his arms. “I….it’s Christmas. Here. For you, Mycroft and Andrea.” He pushed his arms out for her to take the gifts.
“Why don’t you come in and put them under the tree?” she suggested, giving him a warm smile.
“You convinced my brother to put up a tree?” She nodded. “He really must love you.”
“He does,” she said softly. “And I love him.”
“I know.” He came inside and she led him to the tree. It was huge, and they’d had to use a step-stool to put the star on the tree, but Violet had given them some ornaments from Mycroft’s childhood and she had her collection and they had bought some new ones together and she thought the tree looked beautiful. It wasn’t picture perfect, but neither she nor Mycroft cared.
Once Sherlock had put the presents under the tree, he stood there and looked at her, running a hand through his hair. “I was an arsehole.”
“You were,” she said with a nod.
“I’m sorry. I...was jealous.”
“Because you fancy me?” she asked curiously.
“What? No. You’re my friend. There’s...there’s a woman. Now. In my life. Mycroft helped clear up her various misdeeds and she’s back from the dead, so to speak. She told me to make things right with you and Mycroft or she’d end our relationship, and...I love her.”
“The woman whose body I did the autopsy of all those years ago?” she ventured, and he nodded. “I’m happy for you, Sherlock. I really am. Why don’t we get some tea and biscuits? I’m ruining your brothers diet by making Christmas confections.”
Sherlock gave her a soft smile. “I'd like that.”
“Good.” They went towards the kitchen and Sherlock stopped in the entryway, staring. She’d gotten the kitchen redone in a way that suited her as a “thank you for cohabitating with me” gift from Mycroft, and she just realized it was the first time Sherlock had seen it. Nearly a year had gone by since she and Mycroft had started dating, a year where Sherlock had been civil to them at best. This must be a shock.
There was an island and a small table in the kitchen now, and she went to the kettle to start the tea while Sherlock sat on a stool at the island. “It’s definitely you,” he said.
“It was a gift for moving in. I’ve been helping him incorporate my things ever since.”
“I shouldn’t have been such an arse about things,” he said. “I missed our friendship. I was just jealous because Mycroft had always wanted me to keep people at arms length, and I did, and then he started dating you, one of my best friends. It was a stupid thing to get hurt over, but I did,”
“It’s not stupid, Sherlock. I understand.” She went to the island and leaned on it across from Sherlock. “Tell me how you and Irene started a relationship.”
“The case that I worked on with Mycroft a few months back...I had to go to New York. My hotel was overbooked for the time I needed it and then I went to where she had been when I was taking down Moriarty’s network, and she was still there. She allowed me to stay with her during the duration, and things got interesting. We haven’t seen each other in person again until last week, when she told me Mycroft had gotten her the Queen’s permission to come back to England, and he’d made a deal with the CIA for them to leave her alone. It cost him something dear politically, but he did that so I could be happy, even though I never told him we were in a relationship.” He let it all spill out of him in a rush before he paused. “I owe him my happiness.”
“He never told me,” she said. “I’m glad, though. You deserve to be happy, too.”
“Are you going to Mum and Dad’s for Christmas dinner this year?” he asked. She nodded. “I’m bringing Irene. Mum wants to meet her, and she wants to meet my parents. It might be awkward, but I’m willing to bear it for her.”
“Well, I’ll be there for support, and so will your brother,” she said with a smile. “We’re having an anniversary dinner next week. Mycroft is cooking. You and Irene are more than welcome to attend.”
“Your anniversary is Christmas Eve, right?”
“Yes,” she said. “The dinner will be on the 20th, though.”
“I’ll ask Irene,” he said as the kettle whistled. “Thank you for this, Molly. I’m glad you’re letting me make amends.”
She reached over and squeezed his hand gently for a moment before going to the kettle. “You’re welcome. I’m just glad you're happy, too.” And she really was. This was a twist to her holiday she hadn’t expected, but it certainly made it all the better that fences were being mended and he’d found love as well.