"So what are your plans for Christmas Sherlock?" John asked as he bounced baby Alfie on his knee.

Sherlock looked up from his microscope and frowned.

"What?"

"Christmas mate, it's in two weeks, in case you weren't aware."

"I am aware John. I just didn't think it was necessary to make plans."

It took a moment for the doctor to realise what he was implying.

"Oh, no sorry Sherlock. We're going to my mums this year. I assumed you'd be going to your parents again."

Sherlocks expression didn't change.

"I see. Well I'm sure you've got lots to do at home."

Sherlock stood up and walked over to John, plucking his godson out of his lap and giving him and kiss on the cheek and a cuddle.

"Actually Sherlock, I've a favour to ask you. Mary and I are going to the Christmas ball at St Barts next week. I was wondering if you could watch Alfie for the evening. It won't be a late one."

Sherlock began bouncing the little boy in his arms, causing him to giggle.

"Oh course John. No need to come home early, Alf can stay here for the night."

John smiled and patted Sherlock on the back.

"Thanks mate."

Although he'd always know there was a human side to him under all his bravado, John had never expected Sherlock to be so doting of his godson. He always seemed relaxed and at ease when he was spending time with Alfie and John though it could only be a good thing.

Sherlock nodded and gently squeezed Alfie, showing no signs of relinquishing his hold on the toddler.

"Sherrr," the boy gurgled, pulling on one of Sherlocks curls.

John spoke again.

"Actually I had thought you might be going to the ball."

Sherlock frowned.

"Why on earth would I be going?"

John shrugged.

"I just thought Molly might have asked you as her date."

He did feel a little guilty about stirring things up, but god knows Sherlock needed a shove sometimes.

"I've no doubt she's going with her latest bafoon," Sherlock sneered.

John shook his head, gently prying his son from Sherlock's grasp.

"I doubt it, she was over ours crying the other day. Apparently Miles had been seeing a nurse at St Barts at the same time as Molly."

"I see," was all Sherlock said. John said goodbye and headed home, leaving Sherlock with his thoughts.

About an hour later Sherlock fired off a text to Molly.

Molly, I need you to come to Baker Street on Friday evening – SH

Why? - M

I am babysitting our godson and would very much like you to be there. – SH

Well I guess I've got no other plans now. Sure, I'll be there. – M

Excellent. – SH

But I'm warning you Sherlock, it had better be takeaway and playtime. I am not in the mood for any of your experiments. – MH

It will, I promise. – SH

Friday night found Sherlock settled on the sofa of 221b, little Alfie in his lap, watching a crime documentary. Sherlock was a firm believer in educating his godson as early as possible. He glanced at the clock and bent to speak softly into the Alfies ear.

"Auntie Molly will be here soon Alf."

The boy grinned and clapped.

"Mowweee!" he giggled.

"Yes Alf, Molly. I look forward to the day when you can speak properly."

Just then Mrs Hudson came bustling in with a tea tray, followed closely behind by a very windswept and rosy cheeked Molly.

"Moweee!", Alfie squealed when he saw her, and fought to wriggle out of Sherlock's grip, making grabby hands at his godmother.

Mrs Hudson chuckled.

"Oh isn't he a love."

Molly sat down the sofa next to Sherlock

"Hello darling," she cooed at Alfie, "are you pleased to see me?" she asked, tickling the boy lightly. He giggled and all but launched himself into Molly's arms.

She gently took him from Sherlock and gave him a kiss and a cuddle before turning her attention to Sherlock.

"Hello you. Got him watching crime programmes again have we?" She tried to sound stern but Sherlock could hear the affection on her voice.

Sherlock smirked.

"Yes. Although I can't see him needing much encouragement when he's older. Look who his parents and godparents are. It's inevitable he'll be interested in it one way or another."

Molly nodded. He had a point.

As the evening wore on they played with Alf, Sherlock bringing out some of his most ridiculous disguises and making the boy squeal with laughter. They then bathed him and put him to bed in John's old room, sitting with him until he fell asleep. Sherlock leaned down and gave him a light kiss on the cheek before setting up the baby monitor and quietly leaving the room.

As he slumped down next to Molly he sighed.

"Indian?" she suggested.

"Yes."

The food was quick and soon they were full of delicious curry and cheap beer, the latter being a first for Sherlock which he found he actually quite liked. They had been laughing at some story of Anderson's stupidity on a recent case when they settled into comfortable sleepy silence. Eventually Sherlock spoke.

"They don't deserve you Molly. They don't deserve your time, or your company and least of all your love and affection. None of them."

Molly turned to look at Sherlock, her eyes becoming damp. She took Sherlock's hand a squeezed it.

"Thank you Sherlock. That's a lovely thing to say."

"It's the truth. That Giles, if I ever get my hands on him…"

Molly laughed.

"I'm assuming your referring to Miles. And really, there's no need. But thank you, it means a lot that you care."

"Of course I do Molly, of course I do," Sherlock wrapped his arm around his pathologist and she leaned into him.

"Come here for Christmas. Have lunch with Mrs Hudson and I. That is, unless you have other plans?" Sherlock asked tentatively.

Molly pulled away from him and looked up at him smiling.

"I'd love to Sherlock. Thank you."

He merely nodded.

"Good," he said, pulling her back into him and yawning. She relaxed into him and allowed herself to drift into sleep.

Just a little slightly Christmas themed oneshot featuring our favourite consulting detective and his pathologist. Hope you enjoyed.