My very first attempt at a Sherlolly oneshot. Set after the Christmas incident, disregarding Irene Adler (despite the fact that I love her with a passion :3). Enjoy and let me know what you think :)

It was the 29th of December and for the past 4 days Sherlock had been reflecting on the events of the Christmas party that John insisted he co-host. Sherlock completely and utterly blamed John for what happened. Everyone knows that Sherlock doesn't care enough about socialising to learn the protocols that accompany it. Sherlock and a party was an unavoidable disaster, John should have thought about this before he came up with the whole stupid thing. If that wasn't bad enough, Mrs Hudson then forced him to wear a Christmas jumper (at least he managed to convince her to forget the antlers) and employed her ridiculous rule that meant that he and John had to be nice to her. These factors mixed with the fact that John invited Lestrade as well was just a recipe for disaster.

Unfortunately, the product of this recipe was the crushed self-esteem of one Molly Hooper. Of course, in the moment that her face fell he regretted everything he had just said, and regret is an emotion not often felt by Sherlock. He didn't actually mean what he said, he was just grumpy and he did apologize (a rare phonemena when it came to Sherlock), but he still felt as though he should make it up to her. It was as he was exploring his mind palace on the evening of the 29th when he realised that he never actually gave her a gift. He didn't actually get anyone a gift, but that was beside the point. This realisation was what caused Sherlock to be wandering the high street on the morning of the penultemate day of the year. He'd gone into every single shop he'd seen and found nothing acceptable for Molly. He was just about to give up when he came across one of those tiny little gift shops tucked away at the end of the high street. It somewhat reminded him of Molly, small and often overlooked, yet full of beauty. From this alone he felt compelled to go inside. After browsing the shelves for a good 10 minutes he came across something that made him smile. Nestled among some old books was a deerstalker. Remembering a conversation that happened at the morgue some weeks ago where Molly revealed that she thought he suited a deerstalker he decided to buy it for her.

It was the 1st of January and just like at Christmas, Molly was the only one working. She was busy performing an autopsy on yet another Christmas suicide when the doors swung open. Molly didn't even bother to turn around, the only other person you'd find at the morgue on New Year's day was Sherlock. She continued examining the shattered skull where the bullet entered the man's head and forced herself to ignore him. It wasn't until Sherlock cleared his throat next to her that she looked up. 'Sherlock?' She didn't totally understand why he was here, probably needed to use some of the really expensive equipment even she was barely allowed to touch.

Sherlock pulled a gift bag out from behind his back and presented it to her. She looked up at him quizically. 'Open it.'

'You didn't have-'

Sherlock interrupted her, 'Just open it.'

So she did. She couldn't help but smile as she saw the hat. 'Thank you hat-man.'

Sherlock rolled his eyes at the tabloid nickname but smiled with her, 'My pleasure, I personally think it'll suit you better.' He took it from her and placed it on her head, 'I was right, it definitely suits you better.'

Molly shook her head, 'I don't understand, as far as I'm aware you don't do presents...'

'Ordinarily I don't. They're unnecessary commercialising a relationship that exists between two people with the giving of some tackily wrapped gift.'

'So why did you give me this?'

Sherlock cleared his throat again, more tentatively this time, 'I felt...guilty.'

'Guilty?'

He nodded, 'About the incident at Christmas...'

Molly blushed and looked at her feet, 'I told you...it doesn't matter...' The words were mumbled and barely audible.

Sherlock took another step closer to her, 'Of course it matters!'

Molly looked up at him, suddenly aware of how close he was now standing to her, 'Why?'

Sherlock was incredulous, 'Because you matter and I didn't even mean any of it!'

Molly looked straight at him, 'What?'

Sherlock stooped so that his mouth was on level with her ear, 'I said, you matter...and I didn't mean what I said. I was just grumpy, there was too much...festivity, you know how much I despise festivity, it causes such idiotic emotions in people. Truth be told, I thought you looked beautiful...and upon reflection I was...touched that you'd get all dressed up for me.'

The deep baritone in her ear caused goosebumps to form on her neck, 'But I don't understand?'

Sherlock stood upright again and sighed. 'Molly Hooper, it's really not a difficult concept!'

Before she could even open her mouth to protest he cleared the distance between them and captured her lips with his own.

After several seconds had passed they broke apart, Sherlock turned on his heel and walked out, his coat billowing out behind him. Molly was left stunned next to her examination table.

Just as she was about to begin stitching up the corpse's head wound her phone beeped. She stopped and pulled out her phone, reading the message displayed on the screen.

Happy New Year -SH