Two things before you continue reading:
First: My mothertongue isn't english, so I would like to apologize in advance for any weird grammar, puncation or general mistakes. Please be kind. ^^'
Second: All criminal and forensical stuff is made up. The story is mainly for fun, so please don't think too much into it. ;3
Other than that: Enjoy reading and Happy Holidays!
"Last Christmas, I gave you my heart, but the very next day…"
The infamous tune by Wham! was playing gently in the background, while Joan Watson hummed softly to herself. She usually was none to hang all that tight in the holly drapes of the whole Christmas spirit, yet the last week they had finished a case and ever since then nothing new had turned up.
Holmes at at first hD busied himself with all sorts of weird things she most of the time watched with a mixture of mild amusement and concern for both of their lives, however after his third night without sleep and the adrenaline of their last case WEARING off, he had eventually passed out and was not to be seen ever since three days.
Watson had occasionally heard him shuffle to the bathroom or to fetch himself something to drink, yet she knew it was mostly sleep walking and trying to talk to him, when he was like that, was about as useful as trying to talk a sloth into a jog around the park.
She had once tried to reason with him, that his ways of sleeping for days straight was about as good for his health as exhausting himself completely during cases, but he had just shot her an unrelated glance and shuffled off again towards his bedroom. When she had tried to talk to him again, once he had overcome his lethargic episode, it had ended in an argument and so eventually she had decided it was one of the things she would just accept, no matter if she approved or not.
At least the disappearance of Holmes into hibernation had provided her with an unusual amount of time to spare and so she had taken the opportunity to meet up with some neglected friends. She had gone shopping, eat in restaurants she loved and yesterday even been ice skating with her friend Stacey and her little daughter. It probably also had been what had caused this unusual Christmas spirit to stir within her.
The little girl was adorable and talking about Santa with her, had made Watson grow nostalgic, which eventually had resulted in her first buying a record with Christmas songs and eventually made her fetch all her Christmas decoration from her flat and drape them all over the brownstone.
There were lights in the windows of the living room, a nice little tree with ornaments inherited from her grand-parents, some little trinkets friends and family had given her over the years and she just hadn't been able to help herself from hanging a pair of stockings above the fireplace. Holmes would probably throw a tantrum, but at the moment she didn't care. It wasn't like she already hadn't gotten used to his little displays of temper.
Besides that, she enjoyed herself far too much, sitting on the couch with a nice book, a blanket wrapped around her, a cup of coffee on the table and the fire gently flickering in the fireplace. A long sigh escaped her, it was trashy, yes, but it was also so wonderfully cosy and quiet.
That is, until the sound of shuffling made her look up from her book and just as the song changed to "Lonely this Christmas" by Elvis Presley, a familiar sight appeared in the doorway, staring at her through bleary eyes and wrapped in a blanket, Holmes looked like he still had no idea where he was, yet she knew it'd likely only take another moment for his system to completely start itself and then the "fun" would begin.
"Now look who came crawling out of his cave." she eventually said with a smile, deciding to just enjoy the drowsy state of her room-mate as long as it lasted.
He merely blinked, slowly looking about while making a weird face somewhere between uncomfortable and disgust, his face just seemed to have absolutely no filter when it came to showing what was going on inside him.
"Cold." he finally croaked dolefully, slinging the blanket tighter around his shoulders.
"Yes, the weather changed recently, or no, wait, it changed two days ago. You've been sleeping since saturday, that's three days straight. Again." she said, shooting him a somewhat reproachful glance, which he either didn't realize or ignored on purpose, for he just shifted uncomfortably. Watson sighed somewhat to herself.
"Would you like some tea?" she offered, to which he nodded wordlessly, like a child after a short pause, like he often did, especially around her.
"Come on, sit down, I'll make you some." she offered, unwrapping herself from her own warm blanket and patting for him to sit down instead, which he did still wordlessly, while Watson went to fetch the promised tea.
When she returned, he still was sitting there, eyes focused at nothing, merely staring away into nirvana it seemed. Watson hated this look on him, she hated to see him zoned out like that, it always worried her. She said nothing though, but sat down beside him, holding out the mug of tea for him, which he took after a short pause.
For a moment they sat there in silence, Watson was about to ask him, if he was alright, when eventually he said.
"What sort of blinking trash purgatory is this supposed to be?"
There we go, he was awake.
"I don't know, I just felt it was somewhat nice to have a bit of Christmas spirit brought into our home. I know you wouldn't like it, but come on, it's just some nice, cosy tradition." she said.
"Tradition? Cosy? You are aware that the entire origin of this ridiculously commercial holiday goes down to a man being horned by his wife, who claimed some mysterious deity and slash or his messenger impregnated her, resulting in a schizophrenic child that believed he was being given messages from said deity, which eventually ended him up murdered cruelly?" Holmes said poisonously.
"Sherlock, seriously, you can't just turn around everything." she rolled her eyes.
"Can't I? The american Santa Clause is, in fact, an invention of capitalism itself and as such the entire holiday should perhaps be renamed into Capitalismas, that'd be more fitting…"
"Stop it! I know you'd be trying to make this sour for me, but I tell you, you won't succeed." Watson huffed at him, to which he stared at her and she could swear, there was challenge sparking in his eyes.
However, it was interrupted, when Holmes' cell phone rang, making him perk up and reach out for it on the table, picking up with the usual firm: "Captain! How can I be of assistance?"
Watson quirked a brow, a new case? Well, she wasn't sure if she was glad this had interrupted their argument or merely prolong it to later.
"Yes? Yes. Of course. Momentarily. Watson and myself are on our way!" Holmes meanwhile spoke, just to leap to his feet once he hung up, shoving the mug of tea back into Watson's hands.
"Watson, get dressed! It seems your so-called Christmas spirit was uncanny fitting, apparently Santa has been murdered!" and with that he was off, leaving Watson with a soundless "What?" on her lips.
