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Remember the timeline, it is important.
Mary decided to do the cleaning. She wasn't going to turn all the house upside-down, she was just doing what she could and John was helping when he could. And when they find a dusty old black case, John has to think for a while to remember that he used to play the clarinet.
- Have you? Really? I never knew...
Mary is gazing at him so rapturously, and a silent request to play something is so clear in her eyes that John simply can't refuse his lovely wife.
He stretches his fingers and takes the instrument out.
John wonders how he can remember so many melodies: jazz songs of his youth, some works played by ear, even a couple of his own passages… And Mary's eyes are shining so happily that it's possible to forget about everything. It even seems that the birds behind the window are chirping the same song.
John almost doesn't pay attention to what he is playing but everything is good despite some little mistakes. In his mind, thoughts lazily turn one to another by the very fanciful associations. In one minute, he thinks that he will become a father and maybe even a grandfather is faster that he can imagine; in another, that there's no reason to buy over-salted pistachios. And so on, and so on. While remembering the song "We Wish You a Merry Christmas" he catches a strange question: what to give Sherlock as a present for Christmas?
Of course it's a bad idea. To give Sherlock Christmas presents? He always sniffs, calls it "an archaic tradition"... And then behaves like a ten-year-old boy when trying to guess what is in the box. John laughs and puts the clarinet aside.
"What?" Mary doesn't know what he is thinking about, but she smiles too. Her eyes are so wonderful...
"What are we going to give Sherlock for Christmas?"
"I don't know." She delays her answer for a second, hesitating to express her thought, but then adds, "His hands are always so cold..."
"Yes, but he doesn't seem to like gloves. A scarf, maybe?"
"He already has one or two. Judging by photos, they are permanent, just like his coat. What doesn't he have?"
"Any conscience? Oh, sorry, you aren't talking about that..."
"And you call yourself his friend!" Mary easily pokes John in his shoulder.
"Yeah! There is lots of time till Christmas, we'll come up with something... A sweater?"
"Good idea. Of what sort?"
"Of course it must be warm. But I haven't any thought about the colour. He only wears black and white."
"It must be bright. Red, for example. And woolen, very warm. We just need to choose the right colour."
"Red, you said..."
"Men! Do you know how many shades of red are there?"
...The Watsons didn't know they wouldn't have Christmas.
