The unstoppable force, I thought, had met an immovable object.
"Mr. Holmes, I will not hear of you missing another meal in this house, expecially when that meal is Christmas dinner!"
"I am afraid you will hear of precisely that, Mrs. Hudson, as my presence is required elsewhere."
I was observing the two combatants from my place at the table, torn between spectating as they answered one another, volley for volley, and contemplating what exactly had motivated our landlady's choice of dishes this year. That the table was laid with a bizarre variety of foodstuffs was indisputable. I had never seen kippers and eggs served at a christmas dinner before, nor curried fowl. The absence of any kind of vegetable was also notable. Crowning the vast spread was a bowl of artfully arranged tart green apples, which I would have been hard-pressed to designate as either dish or center piece. If there was any common thread to tie the meal together, I admit I was struggling to disentangle it.
"Mrs. hudson, I have a case!" Holmes complained, clearly at the end of his patience as his voice had risen at last, yanking my attention back to the combatants.
"Your case concerns a banking fraud," our landlady replied. "It will certainly keep for an hour or so while you eat."
"An hour -!" he clamped down on this protest firmly between his teeth, ostensibly making an effort to master his temper. I, who knew him well, however, could see that he was in fact considering whether to reign it in like a gentleman or do what he really wished, and unleash it entirely. I could also see the moment he must have thought to himself: Sod it - it's Christmas.
"This isn't even Christmas dinner!" he cried, turning to gesture expansively at the table. "There is toast on this table! And cake as well as pudding?! But not a vegetable in sight. Watson must be beside himself. It's quite rich of you to demand I stay for Christmas dinner, Mrs. Hudson, when you appear to have prepared whatever came to your mind, without any regard for the season. Was there not a goose left in London?"
"You hate goose," the lady demured, "and hardley ever eat a bite."
"Oh!" crowed Holmes. "Is that what you've schemed up? You've dispensed with traditional Christmas fare on a whim and instead -" It was amazing to me to see how quickly the vitriol bled from his countenance, leaving him looking rather silly with one hand raised in oratorial fashion and an expression of deepest chargrin, " - made...all the things...I like."
Mrs. Hudson smiled blandly.
Of course! I thought, the puzzle pieces falling into place at last.
There was only one way, now, for Holmes to extricate himself from the conflict with any grace.
Looking thoroughly chastised, and without uttering another word, he sat down at the table, and meekly reached for an apple.
Prompt: Mrs. Hudson gets creative trying to prepare a christmas dinner which Holmes, who is in the middle of a case, will be tempted into eating. What does she make? Is it successful?