A/N: Happy Christmas, everyone! Just another of my silly Christmas things to make your holiday brighter. I hope it hits the spot and tickles your funny bone. Loves to all of you!

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

One

"Daddy, when is it going to be time to decorate the tree?" Will asked, toddling over to Sherlock. He tried climbing into his father's lap, but a computer and three case files were blocking his path. The tree in question stood in the corner of the room, completely bare of ornaments and fairy lights. They'd gone to buy the tree a few days previous but hadn't managed to find the time to finish the decorating.

"Soon, Will," he replied as he tapped away.

"But when?"

Sherlock sighed. "When I'm done, Will. Besides, we have to wait for everyone to come and help. In the meantime, why don't you draw a picture with your brother?" He pointed to Finn who was furiously drawing a picture of Father Christmas.

"He don't share his Crayolas." It was true. The twins had been arguing all day over their toys. While Finn normally had a generous disposition, he was recovering from a sinus infection and had been extraordinarily fussy.

"Then watch telly. Or go play with Scarlett. Your mum will be home soon." Sherlock ruffled the little boy's dark curls before turning back to his laptop. Will wanted to whine but knew better. His father loathed whining and would get especially annoyed by it when he was working. Will didn't mean to be annoying, but he was anxious to decorate their small Christmas tree. He hadn't gotten to put any ornaments on the tree at his school earlier in the day. Something silly about clonking his brother with blocks during free play time. Finn was his own brother! He should be able to clonk him whenever he wanted. But the teacher said he was too rambunctious and had to sit down until it was time for Christmas biscuits and cocoa.

"Scarlett is mean, Daddy. I not want to play with her."

Sherlock started to protest, but even he knew that Will was probably telling the truth. At least for the last few days. Her dance class had their Holiday recital in a couple of days and Scarlett was the lead in her age group as the Sugarplum Fairy. It was her first dance solo and as zero hour approached, the eight year old had been much more peevish than usual, snapping at everyone including her mother and father. The latter of which had finally told her that morning that if she rolled her eyes at him once more she'd find herself unable to perform. She'd started to defend herself, but Gabriel had mouthed "shut it" from across the breakfast table. "She's not mean, Will. She's just nervous. But it doesn't sound like she's practicing right now, so you might try asking her to play with you."

"I'll pass," Will said, tromping over to the couch and flopping down.

"Will!" Finn exclaimed as his arm slipped with his brother's bouncing. It caused him to draw a long red streak across his paper. "You mess up my picture!"

"You were in my way!"

Soon the scene erupted into a war of "twinspeak" that drew Sherlock, Scarlett and even a broody Gabriel into the lounge. The three of them could only stand there gaping as the twins shouted at one another in their own language. It figured. Every time Sherlock thought he had it figured out, they'd change it. "Stop it! Both of you!" he shouted finally.

Both boys looked up at their father, immediately crossing their arms over their chests in defiance. "He mess up my picture!" Finn said with an accusatory point.

"I didn't mean to!"

"Look, the two of you have been at each other's throats all day and I can't take it anymore!" Sherlock shouted. "Go up to your room and stay there until your mother gets home!"

"But—" they replied in unison.

"Go!"

The two boys grumbled to one another as they trudged up the stairs to their bedroom. "Thank God," Gabriel said. "I've been listening to them argue since I got home. They're making it impossible to do my homework."

OoOoOo

Molly was very excited. She'd taken the day off to do some shopping on her own and it had been glorious. To a woman who had four children and Sherlock at home, any time away was a blessing. She'd even been able to meet Mary for lunch where they imbibed a glass of wine each before moving on to more shops. She just had one more stop before she could go home. Scarlett's dance costume had come in. Ever since the child had started taking dance four years ago, she'd been in several recitals and was always the standout. Her height and willowy frame made her the perfect picture of a ballerina. And her hearing impairment made her feel the music like none of the others so consequently, Scarlett had an expressive style of dancing that the others with their feet-watching could not duplicate. This dance recital was special. This time, Scarlett was dancing her very first solo. The youngest student ever to do so. Consequently, Molly was so proud and excited. She couldn't wait to try the costume on her daughter.

"Dr. Holmes!" the shopkeeper exclaimed as Molly entered the store. "I hoped you'd come in today!"

Molly smiled. The older lady was always so sweet. It was apparent that she handmade every costume that came through her shop. "Oh?"

"Yes! I finished Miss Scarlett's costume last night and it's just beautiful!" She pulled a garment bag from under the counter and held it up for Molly as she unzipped the front. "It was an older child's costume, but Scarlett is so tall, I knew it would fit her." The costume consisted of a sheer, silver colored leotard that had configurations of silver, pink and purple glitter swirls strategically placed. There was also a stiff tutu that was so glittery that it looked like it was made of starlight and candy floss. And then of course, a sequined skullcap that would fit snugly over Scarlett's head. "What do you think?"

"Oh! It's exquisite. I couldn't have imagined a more fairy-like costume." Molly could feel herself tearing up and the child hadn't even put it on yet.

"I'm so glad you like it."

Molly nodded and sniffled, pulling out her purse and digging out her wallet. She couldn't say anything as she tried to keep her emotions at bay. Her little Scarlett was no longer a baby. Like Gabriel, she had grown so much, no longer needing them. At fifteen and eight respectively, Gabriel and Scarlett had somehow become these independent people with personalities and talents all their own. While she was so proud of them, it made her melancholy for the days when Gabriel would wander into their bedroom in his skully t-shirt and Batman underwear or when Scarlett would sing "Happy birthday" while she brushed her teeth or sat on the toilet. Sherlock thought she was incredibly silly, arguing that Scarlett was only eight and hardly ready for university and that while Gabriel was fifteen, he wasn't exactly moving out on his own just yet. The phrase, "we are not going to have another baby every time you feel old" had been uttered more than once.

Molly hurried back to Baker Street, anxious to try the costume on Scarlett. The recital was in two days' time and if any alterations needed to be made they would have to do it quickly. They'd already had to order new shoes to match. The shop had ordered toe-shoes and while Scarlett was a very mature and talented dancer, she wasn't ready for pointe just yet. In fact, her teacher had very painstakingly choreographed a routine that would not require Scarlett to be en pointe.

"Scarlett!" she called, knowing the child would never hear her as she pushed her way through the front door. She didn't notice how quiet the house was. Suspiciously so. When she emerged in the lounge, Gabriel was at the table across from Sherlock, both of them tapping away on laptops and looking identical. The twins were noticeably absent. "Hello, you two," she said. They replied with simultaneous grunts. "Well, lovely to see you too, Mum," Molly grumbled.

Scarlett bounced down the stairs. "Oh hello, Mummy!" she said, hugging her tightly.

"Just who I wanted to see!" Molly exclaimed. "I brought your costume for the recital." Both squealed and raced upstairs. Gabriel and Sherlock never looked up.

OoOoOo

"I'm tired of sitting here," Will grumbled.

"Well it's all your fault," Finn started. "If you hadn't messed up my picture we could be downstairs watching telly right now." Finn sniffled, wiping his nose on his sleeve and glaring at his twin brother. "I'm telling Mummy."

"Don't be such a snitch!" Will learned an awful lot of words from his older brother. Snitch being one of them. "I didn't mean to mess your picture up. I was just bored. I wanted to decorate the Christmas tree."

"Daddy says we can't decorate it until tonight when everybody comes over," Finn defended.

Will shook his head. "No, that's the big tree at the other house."

"Well we get to decorate that one, but Scarlett says we're going to trim the one downstairs."

"Trim it?" Will looked very confused. "What do you mean?"

Finn shrugged and pulled his box of Lego bricks out from under his bed. He began sticking the blocks together in a crude design of a Christmas tree. "She just said we were going to trim the tree."

Will flopped down across his bed, thinking this over. Trimming a Christmas tree? What did that mean, anyway? It didn't seem to make sense. The last time he went with his daddy to the hair cutting shop, he'd told Miss Maxine that he just wanted a trim. When he asked what that meant, his daddy said that he just wanted her to cut a little bit off of his hairs. So trim must mean to cut a little bit. "Finn?"

"Hmm?"

"Why do you think they want to trim the tree?"

Finn shrugged. "Maybe its branches got too long."

Will glanced over to the art table that he and his brother shared. Lying on top were their paints, some thick red and green paper and a pair of little plastic scissors. "Do you think they're going to trim it with scissors? 'Cuz those look kind of small."

"Of course not, dummy!" Finn said with a huff. "Nena has a big pair of scissors just for trees down in her closet." Finn was referring, of course, to a big pair of hedge clippers that she used to shape up the little potted tree in her little garden out back."

"So we have to trim the tree before we can decorate it?"

"I guess so."

Suddenly Will had an ingenious idea. "I know! Let's trim the tree for daddy now and that way when everybody gets here, it will be ready to decorate!"

Finn thought this over for a minute and finally shrugged. "Okay."

OoOoOo

"Oh Scarlett!" Molly's eyes went wide as her daughter stepped back, preening in her dance costume. "You're so beautiful!" The sparkling fairy costume fit perfectly. The sheer leotard might have been too revealing if it weren't for the glittery swirls that made it appear as if Scarlett were made of ice and sugar crystals.

Scarlett beamed. "Thanks, Mummy! Do I look like the Sugarplum Fairy?"

"Of course you do, darling! So much I could eat you up." She couldn't help herself and gathered the small girl in her arms, squeezing her tight. "I just can't believe how grown up you look."

"Mum… it's nothing," Scarlett said, her cheeks glowing. "It's just a costume."

Molly ignored her protests and kept right on squeezing the little girl tight. She was shaped just like Molly herself: lean and petite, almost elf-like with her delicate bones and features. Of course, she had Sherlock's height and towered over other girls her age. These things might be awkward for some children, but Scarlett carried herself like a dancer in all situations. This combined with her cherub features and impish grin made her an exceptional beauty. A beauty which had already begun to worry her father in the wee hours of the morning. "We have to show your father." She waited for Scarlett to put her shoes on before leading her down the stairs and into the lounge.

"Sherlock," Molly said. "Come and see Scarlett." Sherlock and Gabriel both looked up to see Scarlett carefully negotiating down the stairs in the slippery, soft-bottomed ballet slippers. Sherlock stood up and went into the lounge, a strange look crossing his features as she stepped into the light where he could see her properly. Molly beamed and tucked a stray red curl under the sparkly skullcap. "Isn't she beautiful?" Sherlock's expression was unreadable as he looked her over. Scarlett smiled and twirled, showing her costume off. "See, Scarlett, with those new clear hearing aids, you can barely see them."

The two chattered back and forth about the costume and how the skullcap was a little itchy. Gabriel even offered his compliments on his baby sister's beauty. Sherlock was eerily silent.

"What do you think, darling? Isn't she gorgeous?" Molly asked, sliding an arm around Sherlock's waist.

He exploded. "No! No! She does not look gorgeous! She looks… not like… a little girl at all!" He rushed across the room and grabbed his coat with such vigor that the coatrack fell over. He wrapped it around Scarlett and pushed her toward the stairs. "Go to your room, Scarlett. Cover yourself. Immediately!"

"But Daddy—"

"No. Run along," he said, shooing her up the stairs. "Put on clothes. Something warm. With layers!" Scarlett looked confused and somewhat hurt, but obeyed.

Molly's eyes were wide with anger as she watched Scarlett march up the stairs. Gabriel could see the writing on the wall and grabbed his coat. "I'm uh… going to walk down and see Katie," he said before racing down the stairs and out the front door.

"What. In the Hell. Is wrong with you?" Molly asked through clenched teeth.

Sherlock's jaw dropped as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Seriously? You cannot be serious, Molly."

"About?"

"My daughter," he squeaked. "My… baby… is not going to wear that out of the house! In front of people? Oh no. This will not happen."

"Are you high, Sherlock?" Molly asked.

"Are you? You can see her… abilities!" He was so flustered that Molly almost laughed in spite of herself. "Those glittery swirls… and you can see right through it!"

"She's just a little girl, Sherlock."

"Yes! She's my little girl. And she's not going to dance around in front of people in that… that… burlesque costume!"

"When did you become such a prude?"

Sherlock's voice began to crack as it climbed in pitch and volume. "Did you not see the outfit?"

"I picked it out!"

His eyes grew wider, if that was possible and he gasped. "You?!" he said, pointing at her with a violent and accusatory finger. "How… what…?"

"Sherlock, darling. You look like a fish gasping for oxygen…"

"This is no time for jokes, Molly! That's our little girl! Our baby! And you want to parade her around in some… risqué… exotic dancing get-up?"

"Sherlock, she's a ballerina. They have to be able to move their bodies."

"She can move all she wants to in jeans in a Christmas jumper." Before Molly could respond, the door downstairs opened and they could hear Mrs. Hudson talking to someone and then the beating of footsteps on the staircase.

Irene Adler had a particular talent for showing up at just the wrong time. Her timing, while comically perfect, was usually faulty. She emerged from the stairs with a multitude of bags piled in her arms. "Sorry, loves. It took me longer to get here than I thought." She dropped the bags on the floor in front of her to see Sherlock and Molly gaping at her with murderous intent. "What? Molly, dear. You do remember telling me I could stow some of my things for the children here, don't you?"