A very short oneshot.. just a question I had in the back of my head.. thanks for reading!

Sherlock entered his living room, frustrated and irritated at his inability to either gauge Irene's movements or to solve the puzzle of her password. For the sake of the game he had gone along with the pretense that the dead body in the morgue was that of The Woman's, saying otherwise would have given Mycroft a heads up, something which he was unwilling to give. Wandering to the window, he stared down at the street below, his mind preoccupied with connecting the sequence of events that had occurred ever since he had found the dead body in the trunk of the vehicle on the runway tarmac. He idly turned to sit down at his laptop, thinking to check the details on some of the references Mycroft had made. A bright red package caught his attention, and he quizzically reached over to pick it up, the memory of his disastrous comments to Molly coming back to him in a flash. If he were honest with himself, it was the fact that Molly's attentions were possibly being focused on another man that had sparked his outburst in the first place, which had made him feel worse when he realized who the gift was really for. He had assumed that Molly along with all his other associations would eventually tire of his sometimes unthinking rebuffs and would move on with their lives, leaving him alone, but somehow the idea that Molly had done so had actually hurt.

Looking at it now, he could see that the package WAS special, and HAD been chosen and wrapped with great care as he had so idiotically pointed out. Standing up and going to the window with it, he carefully untied the ribbon, and used a letter opener on the table nearby to carefully slit it open. Finding a covered box, he lifted the lid to find a small hand-embossed brown leather pocket journal. He smiled at it, impressed at Molly's ability to deduce what would likely please him. Sliding the nearest drawer open, he deposited it within and made a note to buy Molly a suitable gift next holiday season.

Later, opening the drawer to deposit Irene's camera-phone as a reminder to himself not to get caught up in the flattery of a devious, conniving woman, he stopped before shutting it, reaching out to touch Molly's gift to him. More than just the journal, he realized for the first time the treasure he had found in Molly's quiet honest caring love. "The Woman" he whispered to himself.