Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock Hound/Meitantei Holmes or any canon characters, nor do I own any mentioned carols. They are the property of their respective owners. I do own Johnson, Rose, William, Jacob and Maria.
Notes: Christmas is seen as a time of joy by many, but not by others. For some, Christmas brings reflections of those they lost or might soon have to bid an eternal farewell. Christmas might be a lonely time for those who have nobody with them. But, there is something that keeps many going and that is hope. I wanted this story to reflect the hope of a Christmas miracle.
There are only platonic relationships in this, not even any mentions of the crushes Hound and Watson have on Mrs. Hudson is included in this one. There is slight OOC and mention of OC deaths without going into detail.
As with all fanfics of this series, Holmes is Hound.
I hope you enjoy this!
(Linebreaks hate me so I will use SHJW.)
SHJW
Mrs. Marie Hudson felt like she had stepped into a world where everything was the opposite of how it should be. In the years of her sharing her residency with her tenants, Sherlock Hound and Dr. John H. Watson, she had noted that while Hound was usually of a foul mind when it came to Christmas, Watson actually looked forward to it and would eventually persuade Hound to decorate the upstairs sitting room.
But, there had been a shift. Mrs. Hudson stood in the sitting room, having just brought in a tray of biscuits and tea, and noted Watson was unhappily seated in his armchair, glaring out the window at the snow falling from the sky, while Hound was humming a carol to himself as he strung garland along the mantlepiece. She silently departed, deciding to leave it to the men to sort out. After all, she'd be visiting her sister for the next few days, but Hound and Watson would be remaining.
It wasn't that she felt indifferent to the situation. If anything, it was disconcerting to see Watson looking as if he hated the world. But, she knew that if anybody would be able to get through to him, it would be his best friend.
SHJW
Hound had finished humming O, Come All Ye Faithful and was about to start humming The First Noel when he heard a rather miserable sigh coming from his dearest friend. "I say, Watson, you seem to be experiencing a lack of Christmas spirit this year. Has something happened, old boy?"
"No, it's nothing. Well, the cold is bothering my old wounds, but that's all." He rose to his feet and limped to the door. "I'm going back to bed." He opened the door, stepped out and closed it again.
Suddenly, Hound didn't feel quite so festive. "Whatever could it be that is causing you such melancholy, my dear Watson?" he murmured, moving to sit down in the armchair across from the sofa. He reached for his pipe, got some tobacco out of the persian slipper, stuffed the bowl of the pipe with it and struck a match, lighting his pipe. Smoke exuded from it as he shook the match to extinguish the flame, then threw the match into the fireplace. He puffed away at his pipe, closing his eyes and accessing the memories of the previous days.
Watson hadn't always been so dour. In fact, as November rolled to an end and another case had been solved with much success, he had been in high spirits. The cold had caused his wounds some upset, but it hadn't caused him to fall into a black mood.
"However, that was before he was called out...and each time would come back with a forced smile before retreating to his room." To have a clearer idea of what was causing his friend's melancholia, he needed more data.
SHJW
Though he was lying in his bed, Watson couldn't sleep. He was considering taking a draught, but closing his eyes only brought forth a very unpleasant reminder of the days that had passed. He had to go back out again soon anyway. "What's the point of this?" he murmured to himself as he sat up. "I may as well make preparations to leave again." He threw back his bedsheets.
SHJW
Hound's ears twitched as they picked up the sound of movement coming from Watson's room. He had a feeling his friend wouldn't be able to rest, but it wasn't the same pacing that occured when flashbacks of Maiwand haunted him. "There is only one way I can solve this mystery." He rose to his feet and made his way to his own bedroom.
SHJW
Watson emerged in fresh clothes. He decided to quickly inform Hound of his departure, so he made his way to the sitting room. "Hound, I'm going out for a while. I'll be back in no more than two hours." He heard no response. "Probably focused on an experiment." He shrugged, turned and made his departure.
After the front door had closed, a hunched man in ragged clothing emerged from Hound's bedroom. He made his own departure.
SHJW
Watson was unaware of someone tailing him, though the hunched man considered that to be a blessing. He stayed well out of sight, should Watson turn and consider him to be suspicious. As I'd hope he would.
The first stop was a small house. Watson knocked on the door and waited to be invited inside.
The hunched man watched keenly for anything that might be responsible for Watson's dour mood. But, to his relief, Watson had emerged appearing brighter than before. It seemed his patient in that house was going to pull through what ailed them after all.
There were more houses, in different parts of London, where Watson stopped. But, while some houses had him emerging while shaking his head hopelessly, he often emerged with hope restored.
It was the second-last stop that sounded an alarm in the hunched man's mind. London General Hospital. He knew Watson was not expected to assist his services at the hospital that week, so why was he stopping there?
SHJW
Watson entered a room and saw the young boy in the bed. He sighed as he removed his hat, shut the door after himself and approached the seat beside the bed. "Good afternoon, William, and how are you today?" Of course, he didn't expect a response. "Still unconscious. Your mother is rather worried about you, you know. She hopes for a Christmas miracle, that you regain consciousness and can be with her that day. After losing your father and sister, she has not been herself at all, the poor dear. I don't mean to bring any guilt upon you. But, she knows you're a strong boy. Not even that carriage accident will be able to keep you down for long."
The pup stayed silent.
"Well then, shall I regale you of another story about your uncle?" Knowing he wouldn't get a response, he launched into another recollection of someone he remembered fondly, someone the beagle in the bed loved dearly, but, too, was departed.
SHJW
The hunched man waited quietly in the shadows near the building and saw Watson finally emerge. He watched as his friend hailed a hansom and heard where he wanted to go. A cemetery.
SHJW
The hansom arrived. Watson climbed out of it, paying the driver and then made his way through the iron gates to the same graves he had visited over the last few days.
The hunched man was not far behind. He'd caught a hansom and paid double to arrive in half the time it took for Watson. He kept his grey gaze on the Scottish terrier.
Watson stood by two graves; the graves of William's father and sister. "I am doing all I can to help him, but it is up to him. If my friend heard me say this, he'd call me a fool, but I believe only you two and old Johnson can help him. For Rose's sake, let William arise." He sighed. "That is all I can say now." He turned and made to walk away, but stopped in his tracks as he beheld a hunched man draped in ragged clothing.
"Terribly sorry to have overheard you, good sir," the man uttered in a hoarse voice. "I visit the graves of the lonely people with neither kith, nor kin. I take it you are familiar with the pair here?"
"Yes. I served with this man's brother-in-law and became a good friend to his wife."
"Their's is a tragic story, I believe."
"I..." He wanted to tell the hunched man to mind his own business, but at the same time, he felt he truly needed to talk about it.
"Oh no, my boy, don't tell me. I can see you are not without company. It would do you well to speak to someone you know and trust."
He nodded. "Of course."
"Now then, there are many graves here that I must visit, for not even the dead should be alone at Christmas."
He nodded again. "Quite right."
"Well now, my good sir, if you will excuse me."
"Of course. Merry Christmas to you, sir." He faced the graves.
"Merry Christmas." The hunched man hobbled away, knowing exactly what Watson's next course of action would be.
Watson bid a goodbye to the pair in the graves before turning on his heel and leaving the cemetery grounds.
SHJW
The hunched man arrived at 221B Baker Street sooner than Watson. He let himself in, hurried up the seventeen steps and into Hound's bedroom.
The front door opened once more and Watson stepped through it. He closed the door, removing his bowler, jacket and scarf. He hung the bowler on the hat peg, right beside where his best friend's deerstalker sat. He carried the rest to his bedroom, hanging them on his personal coat rack. He then made his way to the sitting room. He opened the door and beheld his best friend smoking his pipe. "Ah, Hound, I'm relieved to see you are still here."
Hound turned to look at Watson. He gave nothing away in that he knew exactly where Watson had been that day. Of course, being the detective he was, he could still make his observations. "Your spirits are still low, but not as dour as this morning, so I presume you had to attend to numerous patients today, many of which are expected to make a full recovery."
Watson nodded as he moved to sit down. The fireplace had been lit and he needed to get some warmth back into his body. "Correct as you often are, my dear Hound."
"However, there is something that is weighing greatly on your mind. This has been bothering you for a few days now. Come, my dear Watson, share what it is that has you in such a state."
He sighed and nodded. "I've been that obvious?"
"Even someone without my observational skills would notice you've got the morbs."
Another sigh. "Do you recall my telling you of an old friend of mine named Johnson?"
"From your platoon."
"Yes. One of the privates I had befriended...and failed to save. Well, this isn't about him so much as it is about his family. The carriage accident five days ago."
"I recall being called in to investigate that. Two lives were lost and the third was reported to be in a critical condition. It wasn't foul play as much as faulty conditions and negligence of the driver."
"His brother-in-law, Jacob, and niece of ten years, Maria, were the ones to have perished. His nephew of seven years, William, is in critical condition and his sister, Rose, who was thankfully not in the accident at all, is beside herself with grief. She fears she may lose her son as she already has her brother, husband and daughter. But, her son is not showing any signs of response as of the moment. I visit everyday to try to see if a story of his uncle would maybe bring him to a more alert state. But, it isn't working. Nothing else can be done for him, so it's now a matter of time to see if he will be reunited with his mother, or if he'll be joining Johnson, Jacob and Maria." He sighed, ears flattened.
Hound's ears had folded back in concern.
"That's why I haven't been very festive as of late. I don't find it fair that many are suffering, many are alone and yet here we are, safe, comfortable and in company of each other."
"Watson..."
"If there was more that could be done for William, I would do it in the blink of an eye. But, I can't. Instead, all I can do is try to encourage him to avoid crossing to the other world by reminding him of his mother and sharing stories of his uncle at his most lively. I'm sorry for taking the fun out of Christmas this year."
"No need to apologise, my dear Watson. You're more than justified to feel this way. Nothing short of a miracle can help that family."
"You believe in miracles?"
"In a situation like this, I see no harm in it."
"May I ask a favour of you?"
"Just as you've done for me, so shall I for you. What is it you need?"
"Accompany me to London General Hospital tomorrow evening. His mother will be there as well. Bring your violin, for even if it won't rouse him, some carols would be welcome. I already spoke with his doctor and the nurses about it and they gave their approval."
He nodded. "Of course, my friend."
"Thank you."
SHJW
The next day heralded Christmas Eve. London was busy as last-minute shoppers raced to the different stores to find the ideal gifts for their loved ones. Hound and Watson had avoided making that mistake by shopping in early December.
Still, the crowds made it hard for them to travel, either on foot or in Hound's car, at their standard pace. "It's a good thing Lestrade agreed not to hold it against us for being late," Watson remarked as they moved at a snail's pace.
"Indeed." Hound put on the brakes as they once again had to stop. "Though with Scotland Yard, it is possible there will be many who are late as they wrap up the minor crimes they've had to deal with."
Watson chuckled. "They'd be run off their feet by now! If any of them have enough energy for just one moment of frivolity, I'll eat my hat."
"Shall I hold you to your word, old boy? In the years I have been acquainted with the inspectors, especially Lestrade, there has been nary a day they have lacked the energy for anything."
Another chuckle sounded from him. "Just a figure of speech, my dear Hound."
The detective smiled and cast a subtle glance to his friend, relieved to hear his spirits weren't as low as that same time the day before.
SHJW
The Scotland Yard Christmas party was a fun affair. Many of the young constables would sing carol after carol, never minding if they were on-key or not. The inspectors regaled humourous tale after tale about some of their infamous moments known around the station, causing Watson to bend over holding his stomach in laughter while Hound let out a few chuckles.
But, as the detective and doctor left the building, their mood sobered. They had to make one more stop before returning to their home. Hound had made sure he had his violin with him. "Right. Shall we see your old friend and her son?"
Watson nodded solemnly, ears drooping a little. He only hoped that what they did could help restore some hope in the mother of the child, if not allow the child to rouse himself.
SHJW
Because of later trading hours and the markets, London was still crowded, though not to the same extent as it had been through the day. The trip to the hospital didn't take as long as it had to reach Scotland Yard.
They entered the large building, Watson leading the way to William's room. He opened the door, removing his bowler and saw the woman beside the bed. "Rose..."
She turned from the bed and saw her old friend. She rose to her feet and stepped over to him. "John, I can't thank you enough for continuing to help my family after all these years..." she whispered as they shared an embrace.
He pressed his nose to her cheek as a means of a platonic kiss. "I promised Johnson I would, I always hold to my word. Has there been any change?"
She sighed, returning to the bed. "There was a change in his heartbeat, it had become stronger. I was informed that's a good sign?" She turned to look up at him again.
"Yes. Rose, may I please introduce to you my best friend, Mr. Sherlock Hound. Hound, this is Mrs. Rose Stanson."
Hound had removed his deerstalker and stood near the doorway, though making sure it was clear should anybody need to enter. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Madam. I offer my sincerest condolences to you for your tragic circumstances."
The whippet nodded and smiled gently. "Thank you, Mr. Hound. I am not unfamiliar with you, John has told us much about you."
He nodded in response.
"Rose, my dear, I asked Hound to accompany me this evening so we can try some carols. We have permission from the staff to do so, but now I must know if you feel comfortable with it," Watson spoke.
She nodded. "William always loved singing carols with us. I think this is a fine idea. Do you feel it might help him?"
"I cannot make any guarantees, my dear. If it does, that would be a miracle. But, we shouldn't treat him like he's already gone."
"Alright. Then, may I please request we start with his favourite? He always loved Away in a Manger."
Hound took out his violin and tuned it. "I am familiar with that song. I ask that you and Watson provide the vocals, if you please." He played the opening chords and was accompanied by the two voices.
SHJW
"...to live with thee there..." they finished singing. Neither had taken their eyes off of William.
"Shall I play Silent Night?" Hound questioned. He saw Rose nod and started to play it. He was accompanied by Rose's voice.
Watson turned away from the boy in the bed, gazing at his friend. There was something different about him that evening to whenever else he played the violin. But, what exactly was it?
"...glory streams from...William?"
Watson turned sharply back to Rose and William and watched as the boy twitched. "Hound, keep playing...sing if you can..."
Hound nodded and continued playing, his voice filling the room as he resumed the song from where Rose had ceased. "...Heavenly hosts sing Hallelujah..."
"William...oh, William, it's me...it's Mummy...are you waking up, dear?" Rose pleaded with the child. But, she didn't get a response.
SHJW
The private concert continued well into the night. Even if their voices were tiring, even if songs were repeating, even if Hound was feeling sore from standing in the same position, none stopped. Not until Big Ben's chime filled the air, striking midnight and Rose exclaimed her son's name in awed surprise.
"Hound, find a doctor!" Watson ordered.
Hound ceased his playing and hurried out of the room. He hoped, for the sake of his friend and the woman he'd been acquainted with that the boy would be waking up.
Watson approached the bed and examined William as the boy's eyes fluttered open. "William, can you hear me? Nod a little if you can."
The boy nodded and hoarsely whispered, "Doctor..." before casting his gaze to his mother. "Mummy..."
Rose was fighting back tears as she smiled. "Yes, William. I'm here. You'll be alright."
Hound returned with a doctor and a pair of nurses. He silently gestured to Watson that they should leave the room for the moment.
Watson agreed. "Hound and I will be in the corridor," he informed Rose before following the detective.
SHJW
Hound stretched. "William is conscious?"
"Yes, and he has full recognition of his mother and myself. I believe he just might make a full recovery." He sighed in relief. "Right as Big Ben sounded midnight. This truly is a Christmas miracle."
"What do you suppose it was that brought him back?"
"It might've been the carols, it might've just been the right time. But...I have a strong feeling it was the former. In all the times I had visited, nothing elicited a response. Rose informed me it had been likewise for her. Yet, while you played the carols, he responded. It took him a short while to regain full consciousness, but it was enough to anchor him to this world."
Hound smiled gently and clapped his paw on his friend's shoulder.
SHJW
The pair had been invited back in the room following a full examination that confirmed William would make a full recovery in due course. Rose was still weepy, which both men considered wholly understandable considering the circumstances, but she was smiling brighter than she had in days. She still had her son with her, she hadn't lost her whole family.
William was still awake, he didn't look ready to fall asleep yet. His voice was a little hoarse from misuse, but he was still able to voice what he wanted to. "I saw Daddy and Maria and Uncle Johnson. They told me to stay here for Mummy. Then, I heard singing. I did not see angels so I listened to see who it was. Daddy told me it was Mummy and Doctor Watson and a friend."
Rose turned to her son. "William, you need to calm down. You still need to rest so you can recover."
"I know, Mummy, but Daddy told me to tell you all something he wanted to say himself. Merry Christmas." He allowed himself to be tucked into bed. "Mummy, do you think Father Christmas knows of me waking up?"
"I'm certain he does." She gave her son a kiss on his forehead. "Now, you go back to sleep. I'll still be here in the morning."
He nodded. "I don't feel sleepy, but alright." He closed his eyes.
Rose got to her feet and turned to the men. "Thank you for helping my boy come back to me."
They nodded silently, unable to speak.
"But, you two simply must return to your home and get some rest. Merry Christmas, John, Mr. Hound."
"Merry Christmas," they returned hoarsely with warm smiles before leaving the room once more, continuing to make their way out of the building.
SHJW
It didn't take long for them to return to Baker Street. Despite the long day they'd had, neither felt ready to call it a night. So, they decided to sit up for a while longer in the sitting room, revelling over the miracle they had witnessed not an hour earlier. They stayed there for the rest of the night, eventually dozing where they sat.
SHJW
After notes: I sometimes experience my own reflective melancholy during the holiday season as my bereavement for deceased loved ones is magnified. My mood often reflects in my writing and that is why this was a dramatic piece. I had to guarantee a happy ending though, so I had myself focus on the positives of the season, including that I do still have loved ones with me in the physical plane.
Got the morbs is actual Victorian slang. As soon as I saw it, I knew I had to insert it into a fic for this series somehow.
Thanks for reading! You don't have to review, but please do not flame. Constructive criticism is welcomed as always.