This was inspired by things that were said at the weekend, and I can only add that I don't know how many of these little 221B bites I'll write, but I hope the story makes sense at the end.
Thank you for reading.
Disclaimer - as ever, I don't own the boys...
"You are being childish!" Sherlock snapped at his flatmate while warily eyeing the mutinous look on John's face.
"Sherlock, it's not childish to agree to be Santa Clause at the local children's home Christmas party."
"But I wanted you to help with my latest experiment on human tissue." He saw John's eyes widen and added hastily "Dead tissue John, not yours."
"Ask Molly." John picked up the form he was filling in and cast an eye over it for missing details. "She's always willing to help, anything to get close to you."
"That's not what I want..."
"We don't always get what we want" John patiently laid aside his papers and looked earnestly at his friend. "Those kids would like a home, a family that can provide for them, but very few will leave before their eighteenth birthday."
Warming to his theme, he leaned forward, blue eyes aglow.
"At least, for this short time, they can have their dream, that someone loves them enough to give them a gift."
"But it's a crime to lie to children" Sherlock said, utterly confused. "Surely that can't be good?"
"Not lying Sherlock, feeding their imaginations and giving them something to believe in, something good to look forward to." John paused and smiled. "You see, that's the whole point about Father Christmas Sherlock. I believe."
