A Scandal in Belgravia [Reader Insert]

My Social Anxiety Doesn't Allow Me to Handle Christmas Very Well

     John, ever the bachelor, brought along his date- Jeanne, you thought her name was? Couldn't remember. She was quite pretty and had her dark hair up in a tight bun. She looked like someone you might have dated in high school... if you dated in high school. Or ever.

     It was a Christmas party, so the boys had a few people over. Aunt Hudson made you come, despite your protest. You hated parties. And Christmas.

     Fortunately, nobody too intolerable was there. Largely due to the fact that Sherlock and John did not have many friends.             

     Sherlock was walking around the room playing "We Wish You a Merry Christmas" while the others commenced with that human practice known as mingling.  The flat was decorated with hatefully festive lights and tinsel.

     Sherlock finished off the song with a flourish. You enjoyed his playing; it was probably the only thing that gave you the will to sustain a fake smile when anyone tried to socialize with you.

    "Lovely!" Mrs. Hudson giggled. "Sherlock, that was lovely!"

     Lestrade nodded in agreement as John appraised, "Marvelous!"
    Sherlock appreciated their compliments, but he couldn't keep himself from looking to you. He looked like a puppy begging for attention.
     You only smiled at him in response, but it was enough. Sherlock set down the violin and plopped down into his chair quite happily.

    "I wish you could have worn the antlers!" Mrs. Hudson commented.

     Sherlock looked genuinely afraid. "Some thing are best left to the imagination, Mrs. Hudson."

     John smiled at the thought of Sherlock adorned with fuzzy antlers, perhaps with little bells attached, as he handed Mrs. Hudson a cup of tea from the kitchen. John's date came with over with a tray, and offered some to Sherlock.

     "No thank you, Sarah," Sherlock politely declined.

     John's friend's face flickers with dismay. John rushed to her side. "Uh, no no no, no, no, no, he's not good with names."

     "No, I can get this." Sherlock leaned in toward her. "Sarah was the doctor, and then there was the one with the spots-"

     "Sherlock, that was a dead lady, not someone John dated," you put in.

     "Oh, yes, I remember, my mistake- hard to tell the difference sometimes. Well, then there was the one with the nose. And then... who was after the boring teacher?"

     "Nobody," John's date answered. 

     "Ah, Jeanette!" Sherlock grinned. "Process of elimination."

     Jeanette and John exchanged underwhelmed looks, and then Watson escorted his flustered companion away. You shook your head at Sherlock, who shrugged like What? What did I do?

     Sherlock's expression fell as he saw someone stepping into the room. "Oh, dear Lord."
     You looked to the door and took on an annoyed expression. It was Molly, who honestly looked stunning if you ignored her hairdo, which she had obviously gotten done well ahead of time. 
     It was the fact that she looked pretty that annoyed you. You might've been glad to see her otherwise. I mean, she always looked pretty to you, but she'd obviously specifically made herself up today, and it was clear that it was for a man. And not just any man, clearly.

      You couldn't blame her for liking him. Not that you did, it's just that Sherlock wasn't a particularly bad-looking guy, y'know? And he had refreshingly intelligent eyes in a hunger-pang frame- gah sorry that was a Hamilton reference.

     You were fine. It was okay. Sentiment would certainly slow you down anyway.

     Everyone cheerfully welcomed Molly, who had to set down two large bags to return the hugs that were being exchanged.

     "Oh, everybody's saying hullo to each other, how wonderful!" you murmured in a high-pitched voice to yourself, rolling your eyes. Sherlock noticed and cast you a smug smirk, to which you responded to a full-on death glare.

     That was when Molly pulled off her flashy fur coat, revealing the gorgeous black dress underneath.

    "Holy Mary!" John exclaimed, taking her coat for her. As Molly smoothed out the dress nervously, most of the boys in the room gaped at her.

     Molly sat down. "Having a Christmas drinkies, then?"

    "No stopping them, apparently," said Sherlock.

     "It's the one day of the year where the boys have to be nice to me," Mrs. Hudson giggled, "so it's almost worth it!"

     Molly laughed politely and looked at Sherlock uneasily. She was obviously waiting for him to notice her, but seemed to give up all hope of that when he transferred seats over to the one in front of the laptop. Sherlock went online to do whatever. You didn't much care.

     "John?" Sherlock called suddenly, frowning at the screen. John looked over. "The counter on your blog..." John came up and leaned over Sherlock's shoulder (awww cute Johnlock moment) to see the screen. "It still says 1,895."

     "Oh no, Christmas is cancelled!" was John's sarcastic response.

     Sherlock leaned in closer to the screen. "And you've got a picture of me wearing the hat!?" His appalled expression made you laugh. Sherlock shot you an accusing glare. You were the one who had handed him that ridiculous hat. Shame on you.

     "People like the hat!" John defended himself, still smiling.
     "No they don't!" Sherlock scowled. "What people?"
     
     "So, how's the hip?" Hooper asked Mrs. Hudson. Ugh. Small talk.

     "Oh, it's atrocious, but thanks for asking!" Mrs. Hudson answered politely.
     "I've seen much worse, but then, I do post-mortems," Molly giggled.

     Everyone looked to Molly with mixes of horror and confusion. Everyone but you, who was stifling a laugh.

     Molly's eyes widened. "Oh, sorry-"

     "Molly, don't make jokes," Sherlock scowled.

     Molly blushed slightly. "No, sorry." Lestrade sighed and came to hand her a drink. "Thank you. I wasn't expecting to see you- I thought you were going to be in Dorset for Christmas?"

     "That's first thing in the morning, me and the wife." Lestrade took a sip of his drink. "We're back together; it's all sorted."
     "Nope," Sherlock snorted.
     "She's sleeping with a P.E. teacher," you told Geoff (Graham? Gary?) bluntly.

             Lestrade gave a strained smile.

     "...And John," Molly uncomfortably changed the subject, "I hear you're off to your sisters, is that right? Sherlock was complaining." Sherlock glanced at Molly and she swallowed nervously. "Saying."

     "First time ever, she's cleaned up her act. She's off the booze." John seemed almost proud.

     "Nope." Sherlock popped the 'p'.

     "Shut up, Sherlock!"

Published 3/7/18. Written 3/5/18 or something idk