This will be a series of – you guessed it – twelve short one-shots, basically just what it says on the tin. No spoilers, and set between Shaw's arrival and well before "The Crossing", so no Root (because I can't write her for the life of me). Enjoy, and Merry Christmas to those of you who celebrate the holiday.
Day 1: A Partridge in a Pear Tree
'Gotham City', John Reese thought with a snort while doing his darndest to keep the current number safe from their attackers. 'This is friggin' Gotham City, and the Joker turned all the other clowns loose.' He just barely managed to sidestep a blow with a deceptively heavy, bulky object before bodily hauling the potential victim out of the line of fire. 'What on earth has gotten into people recently?' he wondered, briefly considering the admissibility of turning the furious number loose to turn on their opponents and letting the situation resolve itself. During a momentary lull in the altercation, John's brain ran through the increasingly strange cases the team had been getting lately. It all had started two days ago ...
*POI*POI*POI*
For once in his life, John Reese, former Special Forces soldier and ex-CIA operative, had a hard time keeping a straight face. He fought valiantly to keep in the giggle that threatened to bubble up from somewhere below his ribs, ducking his head and rubbing the back of his neck as if deep in thought. In the end he gave up and started laughing out loud.
Ten feet above the ground, Harold glared down on him while their current number, a hapless fruit farmer who unwittingly had got in with the wrong crowd. The man struggled to reel in his vicious-looking yard dog that had chased poor Harold across the property before he had got to safety by scrambling up an old, large pear tree with a few low-hanging branches.
As soon as John had recognised his boss's predicament, he had chased after the animal, gun drawn, while the farmer followed hot on his heels, gasping and pleading not to harm the dog. "Baxter's still young, he's just playing!"
"Get him on his leash, or I will!" John growled, holstering his gun and slowing down the tiniest bit.
The farmer lurched forward, scrambling to fasten the leash to the dog's collar and pulling him away from the tree, all the while yelling at Baxter to sit and stay.
Seeing that the dog was under control, John approached the tree, still laughing, and barely resisted the urge to tell Harold to "Just jump, I'll catch you" – the man was still glaring daggers at him. Instead he climbed up a few feet to give Harold a hand in getting down.
The fruit farmer looked on, flustered beyond description and red in the face with embarrassment. His stammered apology just succeeded in sending John into a fresh fit of laughter. "I'm ... I'm so sorry, Mr Partridge!"