Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or Doctor Who.


21 December

Happy holidays to all.

Last year I spent Christmas with some very dear friends, including the great Sherlock Holmes. He's gone now, of course, and I've been finding it very hard to enjoy the Christmas season without him. My therapist says feelings of loneliness are normal, but it's been almost a year since the incident, and I'm not usually one to hold on to the past.

If he were here, he wouldn't make Christmas fun. Might even make it worse. He would mock it and roll his eyes at humans and their commercialism. Carol singers would be shooed away. Any decorations I would attempt in our flat would be laughed at. He is- was- an Ebenezer Scrooge.

But I still wish I wasn't sitting on my own in a dingy flat just north of Camden, sipping cold tea and writing on a blog that no one reads anymore because the adventures of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson are over.

Molly came over this afternoon bringing presents, which was nice of her. She was promoted at the hospital last week. She can afford fancy clothes and cosmetics, but hasn't worn makeup since Sherlock left. She looks quite sad all of the time.

Lestrade is married again. I know, he's a fool. History always repeats itself, after all. He also seems disappointed by Sherlock's departure, despite always being annoyed by the detective. He has no one to banter with, no one to help him solve impossible crimes.

That's another thing. Crime rates have risen. Banks have been stolen from, works of art lifted from museums, families murdered. It makes me so angry that no one believed in Sherlock, in the end. And now they have every reason to believe in him.

They are fickle. They are unfaithful.

I, however, never stopped. I will always believe in Sherlock Holmes.

-JW

Sherlock Holmes closed his laptop and stared at the blank wall across from him. He folded his hands under his chin and sighed.

It was still pitch black outside. He was the only teacher at Ivy Contemporary to show up this early- three whole hours before school started. A bird chirped obnoxiously outside his window and he banged on it once to silence it.

John's blogs didn't usually affect him, but this one stood out. The fact that the man would be alone at Christmas was pathetic, and Sherlock wished he could at least pop by for drinks and give his mate a pat on the back. Is that what mates did?

Mates certainly didn't fake their deaths and run away to become a reclusive Chemistry professor, that was for sure.

There was a knock on his door an hour later. The principal, Mrs. Winters, popped her head in. "Morning, Sam."

That's right. He was Sam Baker. He'd been so proud of himself for coming up with that last name. An homage to his old flat.

He managed a fake smile and nodded at the principal. He'd managed to charm himself into a job here, and now she wouldn't leave him alone.

"You're here early." Lisa Winters helped herself to the seat across from him. He reclined in his desk, growing annoyed by the second. He was always here early. He needed time to think. Why didn't anyone understand that?

"Mhm." Sherlock opened his laptop and pretended to be busy with lesson plans, hoping Lisa would leave. She didn't.

"Got any plans for the holidays?" She leaned forward, and Sherlock could see that she was wearing quite a low-cut top. He could see that the lipstick she wore had been applied extremely carefully, removed and then reapplied again, like she'd wanted it to be perfect. Her fingernails were hastily filed, and it was evident that she bit them often.

"Oh no. Just staying at home. Catching up on work." Sherlock said, typing gibberish in a word document.

"Ah. Me too. Mr. Winters had some last minute business meetings in Dublin, so I'll be on my own for the holidays." She twirled a lock of honey-colored hair and flashed a smile at him.

This was extremely uncomfortable. Molly might have been fond of Sherlock, but she'd never acted this desperate. And this woman was married.

"Excuse me, Ms. Winters, but I have to finish my lesson plans for today."

"Of course. But Sam," Ms. Winters said, standing up and turning to leave. "It's the last day of the semester, cut the kids some slack." Then, with a disgusting and flirtatious wink, she closed the door behind her.

Sherlock groaned in perfect time with the school bell.

Students waltzed in, feeling cocky due to the excitement of the upcoming winter break. Sherlock glared at them. John's blog had depressed him enough to drag his whole day down, and he wanted to punish everyone for it.

"Sit down." He snapped from his desk. The classroom grew quiet. It was almost as if they'd forgotten he was their teacher. They sat down very quickly and shut their mouths, trying to look as polite as possible. But they were still squirming in their desks, anticipating their last day of school until Christmas.

"Today we're discussing…" Sherlock glanced at his open word document full of random letters and numbers. He hadn't actually planned anything for today.

"Delaney, take attendance." He instructed, gesturing at a shy, geeky girl who sat in the front. Her eyes widened. "Uh…of course." She hopped up to grab the clipboard.

There was a thought bubbling in the back of Sherlock's mind. A great idea for an assignment. A way to weed out the intelligent teens from the I-Don't-Care ones.

But it was too dangerous. Too risky.

But before he could stop himself, the words were out of his mouth. "How many of you have heard of forensic science?"

Most of the class raised their hands.

"I'm going to have you apply it to a real life detective case today. The first group to solve it will win…something." He waved a hand dismissively. Then he went to the black board and grabbed a piece of chalk.

The class watched as he scribbled furiously across the board, describing the scenario.

Two children are kidnapped. The only evidence left behind are the kidnappers footprints…