'Twas the night before Christmas,
When all through the house
Not a creature was stirring,
Not even a mouse,
At least till the kitchen
Filled up with smoke
And John stirred in his bed,
Stretched, and awoke.
He crept from his bedroom,
Tiptoed down the hall,
Smiling at the face
Shot into the wall
But what did he see there?
It was to his surprise -
Sherlock opening the oven
And lifting out some mince pies!
He tried to be silent,
But he just couldn't hide
The sudden fit of laughter
That burst from inside.
Sherlock turned quickly,
And shut the kitchen door
"Why are you awake?"
"I couldn't sleep anymore -
I mean, what, with this smoke,
And the noise you were making,
Sherlock, can it be true?
Are you really in here, baking?"
Sherlock looked embarrassed,
Stared down at his feet,
And John felt the urge
To make a hasty retreat
"Yes, it's true what you see here,
I've been baking mince pies,
But you weren't meant to see!
They were to be a surprise!"
So John just smiled,
And went to his side,
"Shall we bake them together?
Then you won't have to hide."
Sherlock's lips quirked upwards,
But then into a frown,
"What about your present?
I can't get into town."
"Oh, don't worry about that"
John Watson did say,
"The fact I caught you trying
Is more than okay."
So they went in the kitchen,
John taught Sherlock to bake,
And at last the dawn came
To find them both, still awake.
"See," said John Watson,
"They were alright in the end!"
Sherlock looked awkward.
"Thanks for being my friend -
This is the first Christmas
That I've been able to say,
That, umm, you see...
Well, it's better this way."
John started to laugh,
"It's the same for me,
Merry Christmas, Sherlock -
Now, would you like some tea?"