Phoebe stood by the fireplace as Sherlock finished playing We Wish You A Merry Christmas on his violin.

"Lovely, Sherlock! That was lovely!" Mrs Hudson praised as she sat in Sherlock's grey chair.

"Marvellous," John applauded. "That was very good."

"I wish you could've worn the antlers," Mrs Hudson laughed and Phoebe giggled.

"Some things are best left to the imagination, Mrs Hudson," Sherlock said as he turned to John.

"You would've looked adorable, Sherl," Phoebe teased with a grin.

"Don't call me Sherl," Sherlock huffed and she stuck her tongue out before Jeanette, John's latest girlfriend, walked up to Sherlock with a tray of snacks. "Oh, no thank you, Sarah."

"Er, no, no, no, no, no, he's not good with names," John said quickly and Jeanette set down the tray.

"No, no, no, I can get this," Sherlock replied. "Sarah was the doctor and then there was the one with the spots and then the one with the nose... and then who was after the boring teacher?"

Jeanette shifted uncomfortably as she crossed her arms over his chest. "Nobody."

"Jeanette! Ah, process of elimination," Sherlock replied and Phoebe flinched, giving John and Jeanette an apologetic look.

Phoebe walked over to Sherlock before seeing Molly come into the flat.

"Oh, dear Lord," Sherlock mumbled when he saw Molly walk through the door.

"Hello, everyone! Sorry, hello," Molly said joyfully as John helped take the bags of presents from her. "It said on the door just to- just come up."

Everyone greeted Molly and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Everybody saying hello to each other, how wonderful," Sherlock mocked in annoyance and Phoebe nudged him.

Molly took off her coat to reveal her dress that was quite low cut. It was black with silvery sparkles lining the very top as well as the thin straps that held up the dress.

"Let me, uh- Holy Mary!" John's eyes widened as he took her coat.

"Wow," Lestrade commented as Phoebe smiled at her friend.

"So we're having a Christmas drinkies, then?" Molly smiled as she saw the drinks in everyone's hands.

"No stopping them, apparently," Sherlock replied as he sat down at the computer.

"It's the one day of the year where the boys have to be nice to me, so it's almost worth it," Mrs Hudson said and Jeanette sat down in John's chair.

"John, the counter on your blog," Sherlock spoke up and John walked over behind Sherlock to look at the laptop. "It still says one thousand eight hundred and ninety five."

"Oh no, Christmas is cancelled," John mocked, not really caring.

"And you've got a photograph of me wearing that hat?" Sherlock grimaced when he saw the image in the margins.

"People like the hat," John replied as he stood straight.

"No, they don't. What people?" Sherlock asked and Phoebe snorted.

"You look adorable in the hat, Sherl," Phoebe teased as she ruffled his hair a bit only for him to huff in annoyance.

"Don't call me Sherl." Sherlock grimaced, but she merely smiled and patted his head.

"How's the hip?" Molly asked Mrs Hudson as Lestrade was getting her a glass of wine.

"Oh, it's atrocious, but thanks for asking," Mrs Hudson answered with a smile.

"I've seen much worse, but then I do post-mortems," Molly joked and everyone stopped what they were doing, except Sherlock. "Oh, gosh, sorry."

"Don't make jokes, Molly," Sherlock commented as he typed and Phoebe swatted his head.

"No, sorry," Molly whispered as she adjusted her feet.

"Here you are," Lestrade said as he held out the glass of wine for Molly.

"Thank you," she replied as she took the glass carefully. "I wasn't expecting to see you. I thought you were gonna be in Dorset for Christmas."

"That's first thing in the morning, me and the wife, we're back together. It's all sorted," Lestrade said with a smile.

"No, she's sleeping with a PE teacher," Sherlock piped up and Phoebe grimaced.

"And John, I hear you're off to your sister's, is that right?" Molly looked at Dr Watson.

"Yeah," John confirmed as he sat on the arm of his chair since Jeanette was sitting in the chair.

"Sherlock was complaining- saying," Molly corrected herself after a second.

"First time ever, she's cleaned up her act," John said as he smiled at Molly. "She's off the booze."

"Nope," Sherlock spoke and Phoebe gave him another swat.

"Shut up, Sherlock," John scoffed.

"I see you've got a new boyfriend, Molly, and you're serious about him," Sherlock said as he looked over at Molly.

"What? Sorry, what?" Molly was taken aback, unaware of this new boyfriend she supposedly had.

"In fact, you're seeing him this very night and giving him a gift," Sherlock continued and Phoebe cleared her throat.

"Take a day off,"John muttered, knowing that this wasn't going to end well.

"Shut up and have a drink," Lestrade said as he put a drink by Sherlock.

"Oh, come on, surely you've all seen the present at the top of the bag. Perfectly wrapped with a bow," Sherlock explained and Molly shifted uncomfortably. "All the others are slapdash at best."

Phoebe gave Molly an apologetic look as Sherlock stood up. "Sherl, maybe this isn't the best time."

"Don't call me Sherl," Sherlock grumbled before continuing, "it's for someone special, then. The shade of red echoes her lipstick, either an unconscious association or one that she's deliberately trying to encourage."

Molly looked away with embarrassment. She was hurt by the way Sherlock treated her.

"Either way, Miss Hooper has love on her mind. The fact that she's serious about him is clear from the fact she's giving him a gift at all. That always suggests long-term hopes, however forlorn, and that she's seeing him tonight is evident from her makeup and what she's wearing. Obviously trying to compensate for the size of her mouth and breasts..."

Sherlock trailed off when he saw who the gift was addressed to.

Dearest Sherlock,
Love Molly X X X

Molly frowned as she looked at Sherlock before saying, "you always say such horrible things. Every time. Always. Always..."

Phoebe gave Sherlock a disappointed look and that had a quick silent conversation through their eyes.

Sherlock looked back at Molly and sighed.

"I am sorry. Forgive me," Sherlock apologized and he stepped closer to her. "Merry Christmas, Molly Hooper." He then placed a gentle kiss to her cheek.

Suddenly, his phone went off with a moan.

"Oh, no! That wasn't- I didn't-" Molly tried to defend herself as Sherlock backed away.

"No, it was me," Sherlock admitted and Phoebe held back a laugh.

"My goodness, really?" Lestrade looked completely shocked.

"My phone," Sherlock clarified before pulling out his phone to read the text.

"Fifty seven," John said as he looked at Sherlock.

"Sorry, what?" Sherlock's brows furrowed in confusion.

"Fifty seven of those texts, the one's I've heard," John elaborated.

"Add twelve. There's been twelve that I've heard while you've been out," Phoebe piped in.

"Thrilling that you've been counting," Sherlock grumbled as he walked over to the fireplace.

He saw a small bright red gift on the mantelpiece and he grabbed it carefully.

"Excuse me," Sherlock spoke before walking to his room.

"What's up?" John asked as he turned.

"Sherlock?" Phoebe's eyes followed the detective, worried about his behavior.

"I said excuse me," Sherlock repeated before disappearing into the hallway leading to his bedroom.

"Do you ever reply?" John called after him and Phoebe sighed.

Sherlock went straight to his bed and sat down before opening the little red gift.

Inside the small box was Irene Adler's camera phone.

He picked it up carefully and examined it to make sure it wasn't fake. It was the real deal.

Sherlock grabbed his phone and called his brother, knowing what this meant.

"Oh dear Lord, we're not going to have Christmas calls now, are we? Have they passed a new law?" Mycroft spoke over the line as Phoebe and John peeked into the room.

"I think you're going to find Irene Adler tonight," Sherlock said seriously.

"We already know where she is," Mycroft replied. "As you were kind enough to point out, it hardly matters."

"No, I mean you're going to find her dead," Sherlock clarified and he hung up.

He stood and turned to see Phoebe and John in the doorway.

"You okay, Sherl?" Phoebe asked gently.

"Yes," he replied simply, shutting the door.

Phoebe frowned when he didn't say anything about her calling him 'Sherl'. He always made sure to tell her to stop calling him that.

🔎

Phoebe helped John and Mrs Hudson search the flat for any drugs that Sherlock might have hiding.

Sherlock had gone with Mycroft to identify the body that they suspected to be Irene Adler.

Phoebe looked up when John got a call from Mycroft. She walked over so she could the conversation.

"He's on his way. Have you found anything?" Mycroft asked.

"No. Did he take the cigarette?" John asked as Phoebe listened, praying he didn't take the cigarette.

"Yes," Mycroft answered.

"Shit," John and Phoebe spoke in unison.

"He's coming, ten minutes," John said to Mrs Hudson.

"There's nothing in the bedroom," the landlady replied.

"Well, it looks like he's clean. We've tried all the usual places. Are you sure tonight's a danger night?" John asked Mycroft.

"No, but then I never am," Mycroft answered. "You have to stay with him, John."

"I've got plans," John said as he looked at Jeanette.

"No," Mycroft said before ending the call.

"Mycroft?" John sighed and Phoebe grimaced.

"I can stay with him for a while if you need, John," Phoebe offered and John sighed.

"It's my responsibility too. We need to take care of him. He's our friend," John replied before he sat down by Jeanette on the couch to talk to her about their plans.

Phoebe went over to Sherlock's chair and curled up.

She understood why Sherlock was so upset by this, but it hurt her. She knew that Sherlock had fallen for the dominatrix, whether he admitted it or not. It was painfully obvious.

She tuned everything, completely silent even after Jeanette had left angrily.

John tried talking to Phoebe and she jumped.

"Oh, sorry. I wasn't paying attention," Phoebe apologized and looked up at John.

"It's alright. I just wanted to make sure you were okay," John said and Phoebe nodded.

"I'm fine. Just a bit tired," she replied.

John hummed and sat down, picking up his book to wait for Sherlock.

When Sherlock walked in the flat, he stopped in the doorway.

"Oh, hi. You okay?" John asked as he looked up from his book.

Sherlock said nothing and turned to go to his room before finally saying, "I hope you didn't mess up my sock index this time."

Phoebe stood up and looked at John. "I'm gonna go talk to him."

"Okay," John said before Phoebe walked to Sherlock's room.

She knocked on the door before going in. She saw Sherlock taking off his coat.

"Sherl, are you okay?" Phoebe asked gently as she stepped into the room so he couldn't shut the door in her face again.

"I'm perfectly fine, Phoebe," Sherlock replied, but Phoebe frowned.

"Sherlock, you aren't fine. You hate it when I call you Sherl and you always tell you not to call you that. You can tell me anything. You know that right?" Phoebe stepped closer to him.

"I don't feel emotions the way you do, Phoebe," Sherlock replied as he looked at her.

"No, but you feel them in your own way. I've seen it and I'm seeing it right now," Phoebe said and Sherlock huffed. "If you ever need to talk, I'm here to listen. Even if right now you say that I'm crazy, you know where to find me if you need me."

Phoebe leaned up and kissed his cheek before leaving the room.

She felt her throat closing and her stomach was clenching. Tears had nearly forced their way down her cheeks and she absolutely hated it.

John saw how upset she was and immediately went to comfort her, not knowing how she really felt.

"Are you okay? Did he say something to hurt you?" John hugged her tight.

"No... I told myself that I wouldn't do it again..."

"What are you talking about?" John question with confusion laced in his voice.

"He has feelings for Irene Adler... I don't even think he realizes it but it's obvious," Phoebe murmured.

"But she's dead so he-"

"He met her once nearly four months ago and got a bunch of texts, but he fell for her... I've been back in his life for nine months and he just started calling me a friend... I promised myself that I wouldn't fall in love again... but I..." Phoebe buried her face into John's chest, forcing herself not to cry. "Why him? I didn't want to fall in love ever again... I would've been okay if it was a nice guy who loved me back but... why Sherlock? Why do I still love him?"

John frowned and rubbed her back gently. "I'm so sorry, Phoebe..."

"I'm such an idiot... it hurts... it feels like I'm suffocating... I hate it so much... I want it to stop," Phoebe whimpered as she tried so hard to contain herself.

Sherlock had come out after trying to hear the conversation. He couldn't make anything out so he went to see what was wrong.

"Phoebe?" Sherlock looked at her and she froze, looking down. "Are you-"

"I'm fine..." She moved away from John.

"But you are about to cry-"

"I said, I'm fine," Phoebe snapped before going downstairs to her flat.

She went into her bathroom and started to wash her face. She looked down into the sink and the tears finally slipped down her cheeks.

"I don't want to love him. I want to hate him," Phoebe whispered to herself as she held the sides of her sink. "Why did he have to fall for her? Why couldn't it be me? Just one chance... that's all I wanted... but he fell for her instead..."

She knew that Irene was dead, but it broke her heart that he was able to fall in love with Irene after only one meeting. She had been trying so hard to impress him, but he didn't even give her a second look. She had given her all to him in high school, but he didn't care about her at all.

She composed herself and walked into her bedroom to get changed.

"Phoebe, why won't you talk to me?" Sherlock walked into her room as she was slipping on a hoodie.

"Sherlock!" She quickly pulled the hoodie down over her body.

"I just want to know if I upset you," Sherlock said and she sat down on her bed.

"No, I hurt myself," Phoebe admitted and Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "I was absolutely terrified of being heartbroken again so I did everything I could to never fall in love, but I did... it hurts so much and I want it to stop, but it's my own fault..."

"I didn't realize you had an interest in someone," Sherlock said with a hum. "What's he like?"

"He's an idiot. He is so stubborn and annoying but he has a good heart. He would do anything to keep those around him safe and even though he's incredibly stupid, he's also incredibly smart..."

"Seems like that's your type," Sherlock said, completely oblivious. He was focused on something else, not really paying attention to Phoebe.

"Shut up... I can't help who I like... no matter how much I wish my heart didn't choose the people it did." Phoebe looked down at her hands, biting her lips slightly.

"It chose me years ago apparently. Maybe you should go for a different type. People like me don't fall in love with people like you," Sherlock said as he fiddled with the camera-phone in his pocket.

Phoebe felt like she had just been stabbed, but she nodded. It wasn't a shock to her, but it still hurt. "You're right... he would never love me..."

"Of course I'm right," Sherlock said with a shrug.

"He wants someone he can't have and even when he realizes that... he has a better option and she likes him too... I don't have a chance and I just... I'm not good enough... he will never love me..." Phoebe replied softly.

"Well did he actually tell you that?" Sherlock looked at her, genuinely a little shocked. He was not used to Phoebe bashing herself like this. She was normally so upbeat and quite cheerful, except for when she was mad.

"Yes... he told me that he would never fall for me..." Phoebe lied down and curled up as she balled herself up in her covers.

"I don't think love is necessary, but if you try harder, you'll find the one for you. Goodnight, Phoebe," Sherlock said gently before leaving the room and Phoebe let out a sob into her pillow.

"I did find the one for me... I'm just not the one for him..."

-

John left the flatt afer a conversation with Mrs Hudson, he was going to see Phoebe at the bakery, having tried to call her twice before.

He figured she was busy so he would go there to talk to her in person when she had a second. He hoped that she could possibly talk to Sherlock when she got home and see if she could get him to eat. He was getting worried about his friend.

"John?"

"Yeah?" He turned around to see a woman standing against the fence outside of the flat. "Hello."

"So, any plans for New Year tonight?" The woman asked as she walked towards him with a smile on her face.

He had no idea who this woman was, but he looked her up and down, swallowing thickly. "Um, uh, nothing fixed. Nothing I couldn't heartlessly abandon, yeah. Any ideas?" He zipped up his jacket.

The woamn looked to the side efore looking back at John as a car pulled up. "One."

John sighed as he rolled his eyes. "You know, Mycroft could just phone me, if he didn't have this bloody stupid power complex," he said as he got into the car.

The car ride was silent as they traveled to the abandoned factory where John was ready to speak to Mycroft.

After exiting the vehicle, John followed the unnamed woman through the factory.

"Couldn't we just go to a cafe? Sherlock doesn't follow me everywhere."

The lady just turned and motioned towards a doorway before saying, "through there."

John huffed before making his way through the door and into the open space.

"He's writing sad music. Doesn't eat, barely talks, only to correct the television. I'd say he was heartbroken but, uh, well, he's Sherlock. He does all that anyway..." John trailed off as he looked to see a familiar face walking towards him.

Irene Adler.

"Hello, Doctor Watson," she spoke, coming to a stop a few yards away from him.

John stared at her as a million thoughts ran through his mind.

"Tell him you're alive."

"He'd come after me," John replied, still in disbelief.

"Hmm, I believe you."

"You were dead on a slab. It was definitely you," John shot back.

"DNA tests are only as good as the records you keep," Irene replied as she rocked on her heels.

"Oh, and I bet you know the record-keeper."

"I know what he likes," Irene confirmed with a breath. "And I needed to disappear.

"Then how come I can see you and I don't even want to?" John questioned with a slight glare.

"Look, I made a mistake," Irene said as she held her hands up in surrender. "I sent something to Sherlock for safekeeping and now I need it back, so I need your help."

"No," John denied.

"It's for his own safety," Irene tried to reason.

"So is this. Tell him, you're alive."

"I can't."

"Fone, I'll tell him and I still won't help you," John replied sharply, turning to leave the building.

"What do I say?" Irene asked.

"What do you normally say?! You've texted him a lot!" John shouted as he whipped back around and glared at her.

"Just the usual stuff," Irene brushed it off as she held up her phone.

"There is no usual in this case," John shot back as he breathed heavily.

"'Good morning.' 'I like your funny hat,'" Irene began reading off. "'I'm sad tonight, let's have dinner.' "Hmm, you look sexy on Crimewatch, let's have dinner.' 'I'm not hungry.' 'Let's have dinner.'"

"You flirted with Sherlock Holmes?" John questioned in shock.

"At him. He never replies."

"No, Sherlock always replied to everything, unless he knows Phoebe is about to kill him. He's Mr Punchline. He will outlive God trying to have the last word," John replied.

"Does that make me special?" Irene asked with a little smirk pulling at her lips.

"I don't know, maybe," John replied as he stood up straight.

"Are you jealous?"

"We're not a couple," John denied with a stern frown.

"Yes, you are," Irene shot as she typed out a text. "There. 'I'm not dead. Let's have dinner.'"

"Who the hell knows abuot Sherlock Holmes, but for the record, if anyone out there still cares, I'm not actually gay," John said as he looked around in exasperation.

"Well, I am. Look at us both," Irene said, making John breathe out a laugh.

Then they both heard a moaning sound.

John knew that noise.

He froze and looked in the direction that the noise came from with a frown, hearing footsteps walk away from them briskly.

John went to go follow the footsteps, knowing exactly what was going to happen, but Irene stopped him.

"I don't think so, do you?"

🔎

Phoebe was resting in her flat after her shift at the bakery. She sighed softly before she heard some banging, but she figured something had just fell while Mrs Hudson was cleaning.

"Sherlock!" Mrs Hudson cried out and that's when Phoebe shot up.

She quietly made her way to her kitchen and grabbed a knife before making her way to the door.

Phoebe let out a yelp as she was grabbed from behind. She regained her bearings quickly and threw her head back.

The man grunted and stumbled backwards.

Phoebe turned to him and swung her knife. Her hand was caught before she was able to land a hit.

He pulled out a knife of his own, granted it wasn't a kitchen knife, and took a swing at Phoebe. He narrowly missed and she kicked his legs out from under him.

Phoebe made a run for the door and ran to help Mrs Hudson, only for the guy to get back up. He tackled her to the ground and she grunted, throwing her head back against the man's nose.

Phoebe was put into a choke hold, but she was able to maneuver her arm, jabbing him in the ribs with two fingers. The man growled before he slammed her head to the ground.

Phoebe realized there was no getting out of this but she didn't stop struggling.

The man got annoyed and hit her over the head with his gun, knocking her out cold.