The Trouble With Sentiment

Chapter Three

"Oi, shut it. You don't even make your own tea," Lestrade said.

"That's because Mrs. Hudson makes it."

John guided Vivian away from the squabble and over to the fireplace where Molly had retreated. "Allow me to introduce you to Molly Hooper."

"Hello. I hadn't heard a thing about you until a few minutes ago," Molly said.

A short laugh. "Well, that's a relief. There are far more interesting subjects." Vivian held out her hand. "Pleasure to meet you."

Molly took it and nodded, though the usual warmth in her kind eyes was absent. Apparently, any reassurance she'd acquired in the kitchen had evaporated upon Vivian's arrival.

John cleared his throat. "Molly is the head pathologist at St. Bart's."

"Wow. You must be quite smart to have acquired the position at such a young age."

Molly's cool expression thawed slightly. "It became available when the previous pathologist died of a heart attack." She paused, lips curving. "Sherlock beat his corpse with a riding crop."

Vivian's mouth fell open. "You're joking."

Triumph flashed in Molly's eyes, and her tone grew downright cheerful. "Not at all. Sherlock loves experimenting on corpses. He's always after me for body parts. Thumbs, heads, hearts. John had to designate a special shelf in the fridge for him here."

John sighed. He knew what Molly was trying to do. It was both unnecessary and unlikely to work.

"Is she serious?" Vivian asked him.

"While it's all true, it's not really the best topic right after Christmas dinner, is it?" John said.

Vivian shot a startled glance at Sherlock who was unwrapping a gift Lestrade had handed to him. The surprised expression on her face turned thoughtful. She looked back at Molly, and the corner of her mouth quirked. "Interesting. I'll have to ask him about his experiments sometime."

Molly's smile disappeared.

Right. So that hadn't gone to plan for her, not that John had expected it would.

Mrs. Hudson waved them over to the kitchen. "I warmed up a plate for you, dear."

Vivian took the offered food and dug into it with relish. "Thanks very much. This is gorgeous."

Lestrade tapped the white box Sherlock had taken from Vivian and set on the kitchen table earlier. "What's inside?"

"Freshly baked pastries imported from France. Chocolate croissants, judging by the fragrance," Sherlock said.

"Did you peek?" Vivian asked, eyes narrowed.

"As if I needed to. It's obvious."

It wasn't obvious to John. The box was completely blank, and he couldn't smell a thing except for the warm spices from the mulled wine.

Vivian speared a slice of turkey with her fork and jabbed it at Sherlock. "You must be a terrible person to give Christmas gifts to."

"You have no idea," John said. "One year I glued a gift card to a brick, and Sherlock still guessed it correctly." The git.

"I assure you, there was no guessing involved."

Snickering, Vivian opened the box and folded back the white tissue, revealing large, golden croissants. Dark chocolate oozed out the ends of the pastries.

Mrs. Hudson touched one and gasped. "How are they still warm?"

"Heating packs." Sherlock pointed at the thick padding bordering the inside of the box.