Author's Note: It's time for part two of the Holmes for the Holidays collection! I am so thrilled to see that you all thoroughly enjoyed the first story. This story was a lot of fun to write, especially since I got to include a little bit of Doctor Who in it as well. Although, it is not a crossover with that. It's just mentioned and played with. As always, I look forward to your feedback and thank you to everyone who left feedback on part one!
Thank you to GaeilgeRua for beta reading! Much love, xxDustNight
Disclaimer: All non-original characters, plot points, and information belongs to J.K. Rowling, BBC, or Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. The story plot and dialogue belongs to me. I do not write for profit.
Holmes for the Holidays Playlist: htt*ps:/open*.*spotify*.*com/user/12464*01351/playlist/1prfNYC9f8LMVVqPzgjs5l (remove * to visit link)
. . . .
Blue Christmas
Rated: T
Written for I was BOTWP. Thank you for this joyous prompt. It was a really creative way to include yet another one of my favorite fandoms! I hope you adore it!
Prompt: It's Sherlock and Hermione's first Christmas together and he finds out that in addition to her regular tree, she has an additional tree that is all Dr. Who themed ornaments, and she is forced to reveal she is a bit obsessed with time travel.
Song Recommendation: "Abigail's Song" by Katherine Jenkins
Summary: In which Sherlock stumbles upon Hermione's secret Christmas tradition and then has to embrace his inner "Doctor" in order to make up for his lack of tact.
. . . .
"When you're alone silence is all you see.
When you're alone, silence is all you'll be.
Give me your hand and come to me."
-Abigail's Song by Katherine Jenkins
. . . .
"What. Is. That."
Hermione flinched at Sherlock's question, biting her lip as she turned around to face him with a face full of guilt. "Uh…" she started, taking in the sight of Sherlock standing in the doorway with both eyebrows raised and a half eaten biscuit held aloft. "A miniature Christmas tree."
"We already have a Christmas tree. A nice, festive one that takes up nearly the entire main room of this flat," Sherlock explained, slipping into the room and then moving to peer around her much smaller frame so he could properly see the tree that was sitting on the table by the window.
They were standing in John's old room which they normally used for storage. It appeared, however, that Hermione was using it to stow away a secret Christmas tree. Straightening to his full height once more, Sherlock refocused his attention on his girlfriend of eleven months. Popping the rest of the chocolate biscuit into his mouth, he chewed thoughtfully as he waited for Hermione to articulate a proper answer.
"You see," she started again, wetting her lips as she set a hand protectively on the table beside her. "My dad and I have always been fans of that show Doctor Who…"
"I see, and that means you have an entire miniature tree dedicated to a fictional character that flies around in a box?" Sherlock was enjoying this, probably a bit more than he ought to.
"Well, yes…" Hermione trailed off, obviously embarrassed at being found out. She nervously picked at her fingernails before looking him in the eye once more. "I just thought it would be too much downstairs and I could enjoy it up here since we're turning it into my home office anyway."
"Do you really need an entire tree composed of silver robot heads and blue time machines?" Sherlock gestured toward the little tree, it's character themed ornaments lit by the white lights wrapped around the branches. "The tree...it's blue too…"
"It's the TARDIS, Sherlock. It-"
"The what?" He sputtered, having absolutely no idea what she was talking about. This was turning into quite an uncomfortable conversation. He should have remained downstairs alone, enjoying his biscuits and tea while waiting for a new case that actually interested him for more than five minutes.
"TARDIS," she said simply, pointing out the little blue box labeled 'Police Box'. "It stands for Time And Relative Dimensions In Space…"
Blinking a few times, Sherlock sighed heavily and then ran a hand through his curls. "If you say so, my dear." He knew he sounded condescending, but this obsession some people had with Doctor Who was enough to drive him up a wall. Had he known Hermione was one of the...what were they called...Whovians...he would have…
He stopped that train of thought, his eyes roving over the bushy haired witch in front of him. No, nothing would change. He loved her dearly, that much was evident in the fact that he'd allowed her to move in and practically take over the flat in the process. He didn't even argue when she made him eat proper meals or get a decent night's sleep when there was a case on hand. Damn. He was going to say something further, but he caught the subtle change in her demeanor, his senses kicking in and allowing him to see how upset he was making her.
This obviously meant a lot to her...
Sherlock knew he had to make up for his lack of understanding somehow. He was still fairly new to the concept of relationships and having a proper one. The give and take, the taking care of one another's needs… He was learning, but at times he still stumbled. Hermione was understanding, but this was Christmas. Their very first together, in fact, and he wanted to make sure that it was everything she wanted it to be. Begrudgingly, almost, he reached out and gently turned her face back toward his, watching as her sad brown eyes looked to him with a shimmer of hope.
"I'm sorry. Forgive my ignorance when it comes to things such as pop culture. I realize that I may have come across a tad harsher than intended in regards to your Christmas traditions." He paused, dropping his hand from her chin to run it through his hair again. Sighing, he realized he was either going to end up enjoying what came from his next statement, or be forced to suffer through it with a positive attitude. "I wish to make it up to you. Tell me, what can I do to make all your Doctor Who Christmas fantasies come true?"
"Really?!" She asked, the words whispered as a grin began to form on her face.
"Yes. Of course." He swallowed, slightly alarmed by the excitement growing in his witch. Perhaps he'd been too ambitious with his apology strategy.
"Well," she started brightly, taking hold of his hand and beginning to lead him from the room and back downstairs, "I have a few ideas…"
. . . .
Time travel.
Hermione's favorite part about Doctor Who was the time travel aspect of it. So for Christmas Eve, Sherlock, along with the help of his friends, had turned the flat back in time, so to speak. He and Hermione were dressed in time appropriate apparel and, currently, pretending they were saving the world from some sinister alien's clutches. It was ridiculous. It was over the top. It was, dare he say it, fun.
Yes, Sherlock had to admit that he was having the time of his life running all over the flat from top to bottom, hand-in-hand with Hermione as they played The Doctor and his Companion. He was the Doctor, of course, and she was his beautiful, fun, and quirky companion, willing to give everything up simply to travel through time and space to be with him forevermore.
The best part was that for the first time in a very long time, the flat was so full of life and love. No longer did silence haunt the halls, the lone chair by the fireplace, or his bedroom. Now that he had Hermione there with him, everything seemed so bright, loud...cheerful. It was everything he never knew he needed and more. She was slowly breaking down the walls he'd built up over time, and he didn't mind.
Watching as she twirled around the front room in her old fashioned dress, Sherlock lost his battle to hold back a grin. She was beautiful and, amazingly, all his. Including her Doctor Who obsession. Somehow, he thought he could manage. Deciding that he was willing to keep the role play going for just a little while longer, he darted into the room and extended his hand out to her.
Confused, Hermione paused, peering up at him through her lashes. He smirked, wiggling his fingers as he said, "I'm The Doctor, and who might you be?"
"Hermione," she replied without missing a beat, her hand sliding into his.
Loving the way her face lit up with excitement, Sherlock intertwined their fingers, her skin warming to the touch. Lowering his voice, he leaned down so he could speak directly into her ear. "Nice to meet you, Hermione. Now. Run!"
And they did. They ran, hands clasped, straight into the bedroom where they continued playing out some of Hermione's other fantasies. But Sherlock found no more reason to complain. Oh no. This would more than likely become one of his favorite Christmas traditions just as it was Hermione's.
A Whovian Christmas, indeed.
