It has paid off, possibly in a bigger way than she can know--the more willing she's been to put down her foot, the more brave she's been about making him aware that he's being oblivious or hurtful, the more he's come to respect her and value the place she has in his life. And with respect has come trust, and then the slow fall that he'd thought would shatter him but has instead opened up a part of him he's still astonished even exists, and now he's sitting at her kitchen counter minus his virginity and happier than he's been in god only knows how long.

Sherlock can see her make an effort to push the topic to the back of her mind, when she goes back to her crepes, and he decides to follow her lead. The thought flashes across his mind, briefly, that even though Christmas is pretty much agony every year, it might not be so bad with Molly around.

But he'll definitely need to deal with that later, too. Breakfast is good, and the two of them just chatting about stuff is good.

He lets go of her hand to attack his own crepes again.

"Mm--you adapted this recipe from something I've had before. Not Julia Child's, she uses orange juice. Can't put my finger on it, though."