A/N: Merry Christmas everyone! I don't have much time before Santa comes so I just want to say that I hope everyone has a great holiday. ^.^ And I want to apologize, when I was fixing mistakes I made I accidently forgot to save.

December 22, 1896

"Holmes, wake up, old man," I shook him gently by the shoulder.

A groan came from the pile of blankets and then Holmes appeared. Honestly, he looked terrible. His hair was unruly, there were dark circles under his eyes, his nose was red, his lips were chapped, and he was pale. All of this was a result of influenza; the foolish man thought it wise to run out without a coat in the middle of December, coming home dripping wet from a fall in the Thames but with a solved case. For a week he had laid in bed with a fever and late last night the fever had finally broke, letting Holmes sleep peacefully throughout the morning.

"What?" he mumbled.

"I have errands to run; I'll be back within the hour. If you need anything, Mrs. Hudson is downstairs," I whispered, brushing his raven hair from his eyes.

"I would have thought she had left already." Mrs. Hudson was meant to leave for her sister's home in Oxford the other day.

"She was worried for you, Holmes. I assured her that you would be fine and she's leaving later tonight."

Faintly smiling, Holmes closed his eyes, drifting back to sleep. I was also glad that we had the flat to ourselves this holiday. Over the past year, our relationship changed from friends to lovers and we seized every moment we could to be alone together. Gentle placements of hands over one another, small smiles that didn't nearly last long enough and walking with linked arms were all we could do sustain affection. Some nights, though, I would sneak down to Holmes's room and we would lay in bed together for hours, just as along I was back in my cold bed before dawn. We had been waiting for these 6 days – now shortened to 5 - to never part with each other. Now, I hoped that Holmes's health would return by Christams Eve and that I would have a present for him by then!

I had been putting off shopping for Holmes for a very fine reason: he's like a child. Last Christmas I made the mistake in buying a gift for him early and he "accidentally" found it in my closet, in my room. When questioned on why he was in my room he replied with "because." So, with my excuse ready, I walked into a shop.

It took an hour but I found a present and was rather proud of myself but would be prouder if I could keep Holmes away from it. As soon as I returned home I hid it in my dresser under a few shirts then walked back downstairs where Holmes sat in his armchair, wrapped in a blanket.

"You're awake," I said closing the door.

"I couldn't stand lying in bed for another second, I never want to be in there again!"

"And where do you plan on sleeping tonight?"

My friend looked at me with a suggestive look that was enough to let me know what his exact plans were. Taking a seat across from him, I shot his idea down.

"I don't believe that you'll have those same thoughts by the end of the night. You're still unwell, you will not want to climb those steps to share a bed," I whispered.

"Nonsense, Watson! I'm sure I will still feel up to it," he whispered back.

Usually, Holmes gets credit for never being wrong but tonight, he was very, terribly wrong. By the time Mrs. Hudson brought up dinner Holmes was already weary. He was exhausted and didn't want to (or couldn't) get up from his seat, so I gave him his plate there. When Mrs. Hudson left an hour later he was fast asleep; we smiled at our detective who looked so innocent and childlike curled up in the chair. It was nearing 9 when he woke up.

"You should go to bed," I said.

We walked to his room and for the first night in nearly a year we didn't need to keep anymore secrets while in the flat (with the exception of my gift).

December 24

Now that we were alone we could say we loved each other, we could kiss, or do anything that we couldn't before while constantly being with Scotland Yard or Mrs. Hudson or a client.

"Holmes, stop it!" I shouted at the infuriating man.

Holmes licked the dough off of his finger. "I see no harm in it at all, doctor."

"You'll get ill."

"I won't get sick from a tiny bit of uncooked dough."

"Fine, but we won't have enough left if you keep eating it all!"

With a shrug of the shoulders, Holmes leaned back in his chair to watch me. He was almost back to his full health - occasionally he sneezed or coughed and tired easily - and was back to his arrogant, bothersome behavior.

"How can I even be attracted such an insufferable man?" I teased.

"I am hurt, Watson."

"I do not care, Holmes."

He nodded. "I will leave you be then."

"Thank you."

I started rolling out more gingerbread dough and Holmes started pulling the assorted sweets out of the little brown bag, laying them in neat little piles on the table. He was so close to finishing the task but something in his mind made him want to annoy me again (I blame it on the large amount of sugar he had consumed today). So, he glanced at me before shoving a handful of candy into his mouth.

I exaggeratedly slammed down the rolling pin and turned to him."Holmes!"

He chuckled and pulled me down to kiss me gently upon the lips. I could feel my cheeks grow hot; I was sure that my face had gone as red as the gumdrops sitting across from us on the table. His mouth tasted like an odd mixture of chocolate, cookie dough, coffee, and tobacco. It lingered it my mouth after he pulled away.

These were normal actions for Holmes, he would drive me close to insanity just to take me by surprise with a kiss or better. Maybe I should have been more expectant of Holmes's antics yet I found myself at a loss for words.

"I apologize, Watson but I do love it when you get flustered."

"Really?"

"It's quite adorable to see you like this." I blushed more.

"Would you like me to do anything more?" he asked, looking around the messy kitchen.

"N-not at the moment, no," I managed to get out.

I didn't miss his smile as I bent my head to continue rolling out the dough.

Later that evening Holmes was in my arms on the sofa. I was preoccupied with a book and he was smoking his pipe that he dearly missed over the past week.

"Watson."

"Hmm?"

"It's snowing."

I looked out the window and it was, indeed, snowing. Quite a bit too. The snowflakes were large, gracefully falling to the ground with no wind to disturb them. It was the first snow of the year and Holmes was watching it like a child. I believe I've neglected to mention how much he admires it, every year I would find him outside, looking at the flakes that fell onto his coat or gloves. He has told me about Wilson Bentley* and how no two snowflakes are alike. Any weather besides rain in London is always welcome and Holmes greets it with open arms.

The snow was falling harder in only a couple of minutes, coating the vacant streets below. By this time Holmes had already crawled out of my arms and had his head out the window. I couldn't help smiling when his eyes closed as the snow melted on his face and hair. He didn't open them back up until I started pulling him back in. Gently, I wiped off his disappointed face with my sleeve and kissed him on his forehead. I couldn't bare to see him in such a state.

"Go put on your boots and coat," I said.

Quickly, he looked up at me. The disappointment replaced with confusion. "What?"

"We won't be out long, though."

"Where do you plan on going?"

"Holmes, the snow won't fall forever, hurry up."

He nearly ran in and out of his room with his shoes. Hurriedly, I bundled Holmes up in his coat, scarf, hat, gloves, and another scarf (I must say that I did a good job at making him look cute). We walked off down Baker Street with only the company of snow. Everyone was home with loved ones, probably sitting by the fire, children were going to bed to await St. Nicholas with excitement in their little hearts. I, too, was excited to take Holmes to the park where he took me only last year. It would be beautiful.

"Holmes, slow down," I laughed. It was obvious to him where we were going. "I know that you can't wait but we don't have to run."

He nodded and we started walking at a slower, more comfortable pace. As we walked down the cobblestone streets Holmes looked up at the dark sky speckled with snow that grew larger until it stuck to his eyelashes.

"Isn't it captivating?" he asked after some time, his face still towards the sky.

"I can think of something more so," I replied.

It could have been from the cold but I severely doubt it, Holmes's face flushed to a shade of pink that resembled a horizon at dusk. But a sunset couldn't compare to him. He took a minute to return to his regular pallor.

"We're here," he announced.

He grabbed my hand and led me down several paths before we stood in the middle of park in-between two big bushes in a corner. The bushes were dusted with snow and it bounced off when Holmes ran his hand against it. The undisturbed snow sparkled in the moonlight and it seemed to go on forever. When I looked over at Holmes his eyes were doing the same; the deep grey that had usually held a gaze that avoided emotion now held a faraway, calm look that didn't want to stop seeing.

I cupped his cheeks in my hands and kissed him hard but he ended up changing it into a soft, light kiss. Unfortunately, he broke it off in a hurry and took a large step away, pretending to be interested in a shrub. I was confused at first until I heard feet crunching in the snow which belonged to a police constable on his rounds whom appeared around the corner a few short moments later.

"Good evening, Mr. Holmes, Dr. Watson. What are you two doing out here on Christmas Eve?" I now recognized him as Constable Wilson.**

"We saw the snow falling and thought it would be an ideal time to go for a walk," I said truthfully.

"It is a beautiful time of year," he agreed.

"Yes, Watson has always thought so, he takes joy in it's poetic nature," Holmes added. "I enjoy the science behind it."

"There you have it, everyone must like something about the Holidays," Wilson said. "Good night, Gentlemen and merry Christmas."

"And a happy new year," I said.

After Wilson left, Holmes leaned against the bushes with a sigh of relief. I grabbed his hand again, letting our fingers intertwine.

"Are you ready to return home?"

"More than ready, my dear Watson."

Late that night, Holmes and I had devoured half of the gingerbread men that we made earlier. We were sitting on the floor with my back against the sofa and Holmes was curled up against me. He was falling asleep and I knew that I would need to give him his gift before he was completely asleep. We always exchanged gifts on Christmas Eve; Holmes explained it to be a breakaway from tradition and said that Christmas gave us a sort of freedom for making it bend around our preferences and not "trends." I honestly couldn't care less when we opened presents or when if we put up a tree that was one foot or 5 feet but Holmes has a sort of spiteful attitude towards most things.

"Holmes?" I slightly jostled him.

"Yes?"

"I have something for you but I'm afraid it's upstairs."

Holmes tried snuggling further into me as protest; I had to sit him up. He scowled but allowed me to retrieve my package and when I came back he was sitting in his same place but with a parcel in his hands.

I sat down next to him and handed him the small box. For a minute or so he observed it. He shook it, flipped it around, and weighted it in his hand. Finally, he took off the lid with a smile. The gold pocket watch laid in white cotton, shining in the light with the chain laid neatly next to it.

"Thank you," he said and took it out to examine in farther.

"You're welcome, but I expected you would have known what it was already."

"Yes, well, you've had an advantage."

"An advantage?"

"Never mind that - open yours," he almost shoved it to me trying to change the subject of him being unobservant.

I carefully started to tear away the paper. A white box started to appear.

"Mrs. Hudson had to wrap it for me," I head him say. "The paper was rolling up as soon as I let it go. It's all very frustrating, I don't know how she did it."

I laughed and pulled out a silk tie. It was beautiful and it made Holmes become awkward, it was the perfect gift.

"Thank you, Holmes. Thank you very much," I embraced him even though his hug was stiff (but it was with care).

Holmes yawned in my ear, laying his head on my shoulder. I stiffled a laugh and pulled away. The man was in desperate need of a bed and the mess on the floor could wait until tomorrow. We changed into our nightclothes and put the tie and watch back in their boxes before crawling under the sheets where Holmes wrapped around me.

"You hid it in the dresser," he said.

"Pardon?"

"You hid the watch in your dresser."

"Yes, I did. I thought you were slipping, old man."

"Mmm... Not yet."

I held Holmes close to me, breathing in the scent of his tobacco. I couldn't have loved anyone more than him at that moment.

"Merry Christmas, Watson," he mumbled.

"Merry Christmas, Holmes."

*Wilson Bentley - Bentley was the first man to photograph a snowflake and discovered that no two snowflakes are the same. His work was becoming popular in the late 19th century so I'm sure that snow enthusiast Holmes would have know about him.

** Constable Wilson - He is from The Golden Pince-Nez.