A/N: Responses to Hades Lord of the Dead's SH December Calendar Challenge of Awesomeness. I am honoured to be included in such a festive venture and apologise for the late start. Right ... let's go!

Prompt 01: From TemporarilyAbaft - The first Christmas carol of the season comes wafting up to the Baker Street sitting room.

The First Carol

It was on a bitterly cold mid-December evening that I decided to call upon my friend Sherlock Holmes.

The festivity of the season and bustle of eager shoppers that crowded the streets as they went about their business had me in high spirits. Thanks to a quiet surgery and a surprising yet generous addition from an impulse wager to my chequebook, I had procured my own Christmas purchases in good time and made my way to Baker Street with leaden arms.

I was met at the door by Mrs. Hudson coming from the opposite direction, half of her face obscured by a mauve scarf and her cheeks pinched red with cold.

"Dr. Watson," she greeted warmly. Her eyes fell on the parcels I held. "You have done well."

I smiled. "I'm surprised I was able to get this much with Christmas so close at hand."

"It has been busy," said she, looking back over her shoulder to where a group of carollers were gathered down the street. A small crowd of people had stopped to listen as they launched into song. "I suspect they'll be over here soon." She turned to open the door. "Let's go inside, Doctor. Mr. Holmes was in when I left this morning and I doubt that he has since moved."

With the promise of a steaming cup of tea I left my parcels, coat and hat in the hallway and went upstairs.

Holmes was sat on the floor in his dressing gown, a pipe in hand and a scatter of newspapers circling him like a black-and-white ocean. As I entered he waved at me somewhat impatiently and gestured to the armchair in a manner that said I was not to disturb him.

I could see he was deep in concentration and so, in favour of picking my way through papers to reach my chair, I closed the door and stood by the window to observe the activity of the passerbys below.

It wasn't long before the carollers came to surround the front steps of 221B in a rugged curve, their smiling faces poking beneath tattered hats. The warm light that softly haloed their heads indicated that Mrs. Hudson had opened the door to receive them. They started singing and, though muffled and quite unrehearsed, their voices were not without the festive joy that accompanied the season. I listened with the quick acceptance that a hot beverage would not be forthcoming for some time.

"If that woman wishes to listen to the continuous rambling of carollers all night, I would suggest that she takes a turn about Regent's with the hope that they will follow and I can be left to my work in peace."

From his tone it seemed Holmes had not yet found what he was looking for and wasn't in the best of moods. When I turned to face him, however, a small smile had curved the corners of his mouth and he had looked up from his papers to meet my gaze.

"I see your chequebook has not suffered this month," said he.

"Have you been out today?" I asked, deliberately changing the subject.

He decided to enlighten me, although the glint in his eye remained. "Not at all. One does not wish to be accosted by his fellow man and be subjected to such toneless crooning." He stood up to fill his pipe, his bare feet marring waves into the crisp pages as he moved. It was evident that whatever he was searching for did not reside within those newspapers and their use had reached an end.

"I would hardly call it toneless."

He glanced at me sternly. "You are too forgiving, Watson."

I smiled at him. "As should you be, Holmes."

He raised a questioning eyebrow in my direction. Before I could add anything to my comment a familiar sound of many footsteps began to thunder up the stairs. There was the briefest of knocks at the door before it flew open and the room was awash with noise and the sudden crush of small bodies.

"Mister 'Olmes, Mister 'Olmes," greeted Wiggins excitedly. He pushed forward to stand in front of Holmes as the other boys lined up obediently behind him like toy soldiers, all with red cheeks and grinning widely.

"What d'you reckon to our carollin'?" asked Wiggins proudly. "You could 'ear it, right? It's our Christmas gift to you and the Doc'or."

I caught Holmes' gaze over their heads and silently prayed that he would not answer the boy with the brutal honesty to which he was often apt to use. I need not have worried, however.

Holmes pressed a hand to Wiggins' shoulder. "Wiggins, I have never heard anything quite like it," he remarked truthfully.

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End

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