The 12 Days Of Christmas
Day 2 – 15th, December 2014
John woke up early the next morning and went for a jog. As he stepped out of his flat he felt the cold air bite at him.
London's winter weather was threatening to come, already there were icy patches on the ground. John knew that in a few days the city would be blanketed with snow, he hoped it wouldn't cause too much destruction.
But, despite the cold, John had to admit that the frost did make the city streets look beautiful.
The darkness of the morning meant that the semi-illuminated Christmas lights cocooning the trees were still visible, giving the air a frosty blue hue.
John had always loved the Christmas lights in the streets, it was one of the reasons he loved London, the extravagance of it all. It made the entire city seem magical for one month of the year.
The minute he stepped back inside his flat he flung himself in the shower and shuddered under the warm spray.
Quickly drying himself and dressing, John grabbed his notes folder from where he had flung it last night and made the commute to his office.
He had to make a quick stop there for some files before he made his way to the home of Sherlock Holmes for his career defining interview.
John rolled his eyes as he walked into the headquarters for the 'Westminster Herald', he supposed that was the way the world worked, there would always be people like Sherlock Holmes around.
When he got to his desk, he began riffling through the papers scattered there when he heard footsteps. He looked up to see Sarah, a fellow journalist colleague of his, walking over to him.
Sarah had always been a little too friendly with John for his own liking, but he supposed as long as she didn't try anything with him there was no reason to have a problem with it.
She smiled as she walked up to him. "Hey, John."
"Hey, Sarah." John smiled. "What are you working on today?"
"Oh, top places to do Christmas shopping in London."
John pulled a face. "Oh, looks like you pulled the short straw."
She laughed. "And you pulled the long one, apparently. I heard you scored an interview with Sherlock Holmes today."
John wasn't sure that "scored" was the right word, considering all he had to do to get the interview was stand there and be stared at, but he agreed with her nonetheless.
"Oh, I'm so jealous." She exclaimed, grinning. "I'd love to do an interview with Sherlock Holmes, isn't he perfect?"
John rolled his eyes internally. "Yeah, yeah he is." He said, by way of sating her.
He retrieved the documents he was looking for.
"Ah, err, I've got to go."
"Yeah, no worries." Said Sarah. "Good luck!"
"Thanks," said John, giving her one last smile before walking past her and out of the building again.
In the cab, John checked the address he'd been given yesterday. 221B Baker street. He'd expected him to have nicer handwriting.
When he arrived at the building, he was shocked to see it was a flat and not some big house he expected a top detective to own.
Shrugging it out of his mind, he paid the cabbie and walked across the street, feeling the frost biting at his feet.
He rung the door bell and waited. After a few moments an ageing lady in a flowing purple dress opened the door.
"Yes, can I help you?" She asked.
"I'm here to see Sherlock Holmes?" John informed her.
"Oh, yes, of course. Let me show you up." She smiled, standing back to let John through.
"He's just upstairs," she told him, ascending the staircase directly in front of the entrance. John followed.
She lead him into a smallish flat with bits of paper and science equipment strewn everywhere, John frowned to himself.
Upon arrival inside the flat, John heard the unmistakable sound of violin music and turned to see Sherlock Holmes stood by the window, softly playing.
"Sherlock." The lady called out.
Hearing her, Sherlock stopped playing and turned to her. Obviously not expecting to see John stood next to her.
"You have a visitor."
Sherlock quickly set aside the instrument and walked swiftly over to the pair, looking quite flustered. John had never seen him flustered before.
"Err, yes, of course, John. Please come in, sit down..."
"I'll make you some tea." The woman said.
Sherlock smiled at her and she left the room, leaving Sherlock and John alone.
The pair stood in awkward silence for a moment, John looked around the flat, unsure at what to say.
"So, you haven't put your decorations up either?" He tried, faking a small laugh.
"I don't much care for Christmas." Sherlock responded immediately, voice devoid of much emotion.
"Really?" Asked John, a little taken aback at this sudden mood change.
"Oh," said Sherlock, like he was finally realising himself. "No, I, I didn't mean that. I love Christmas, who doesn't?" He grinned at John and John nodded back, a little thrown.
"Um, so anyway, thank you for letting me interview you..."
"Oh, not a problem. Anything for the fans. Have a seat." He gestured to a chair and John sat down gratefully, Sherlock sat opposite him. Apparently fixed now on his usual brazen confidence, John must have caught him at an off moment.
"So, Mr. Holmes," he began, taking out a notepad and pen and trying to remember some of the questions he was supposed to be asking. "What made you accept this job in America?"
Sherlock made a steeple of his fingers in front of his face and looked thoughtful for a moment. "Well, there are a million opportunities for someone like me over there. A chance to spread my wings and help the public on a more widespread scale."
John jotted down the answer. Right, you are answering a question, not running for Miss. World.
"And have you enjoyed your time at the Met?" He asked, looking down at his notepad to stop himself from looking at Sherlock Holmes and his bizarrely penetrating eyes.
"Oh, certainly. I've never met a nicer group of people or a more hard working staff, to be honest, the Met is my whole life."
John nodded, still staring at his paper. "And will you miss London?"
There was a slight pause.
"I love London, the city is almost alive with it's people and it's riches, I'll sorely miss it when I leave."
John's pen hesitated for a moment. Sherlock's tone seemed to have completely changed, even his voice sounded different when he spoke. John felt, for the first time since he had spoken to him, like he was finally talking to a real human being. He looked up to the detective, who was still staring at him.
"Then...why are leaving if you love it here so much?" He asked tentatively.
And all of a sudden, that semblance of humanity was gone. Sherlock grinned at him. "Because there are too many opportunities to pass up by just staying here." He answered smoothly.
John felt the anger in his chest and resisted the urge to sigh.
"When is your flight?" He asked quickly, trying to change the subject. If he got anymore smooth talking from Sherlock Holmes he would scream, he was a journalist, not some woman Sherlock was trying to seduce.
"The 21st." He answered.
John was taken aback for a moment. "What, of December?"
"Yes."
John looked around the flat, aside from the clutter, it looked pretty lived in to him.
"Well, that's fairly quick. It doesn't look like you've started packing yet."
"Don't worry," Sherlock informed him, presenting him with a big smile. "I can do it in time."
Sherlock's presence angered John generally, but right now he felt mocked. He felt like Sherlock was mocking him simply by smiling at him.
"Yes, because you're so perfect." He said sarcastically under his breath, scribbling onto his notepad.
"Excuse me?"
Shit.
John looked up to see Sherlock staring at him, no emotion betraying his features.
"Um, I was talking to myself." John told him, hoping to God Sherlock would just let it go.
Sherlock lent forward. "Mr. Watson, I am one of the most astute minds of the 21st century, nothing gets past me."
There was something slightly menacing in Sherlock's tone but John didn't feel intimidated. In fact, he felt his irritation grow.
"Yes, we all know you're clever, Sherlock. You don't have to keep pointing it out, it just makes you sound arrogant."
Sherlock froze, shocked into silence.
Realising his mistake, John began to panic. "Oh God, I...Mr. Holmes, I don't know what came over me, I'm so so sorry..."
"No, no it's...fine." Sherlock told him slowly, voice light. "It's not often I get honesty like that." Sherlock wasn't looking at him, he was simply staring.
John had never felt more uncomfortable or more embarrassed in his entire life.
"Oh, I'm so sorry...I should...go." With that, John gathered up his notes folder and his notepad and raced from the room.
He stopped momentarily in the doorway and stole a glance back to Sherlock, but he was still staring into the distance, like John had put him into a trance.
Going red, John jogged down the stairs and out of the building.
Sherlock sat in his chair, unsure how to process what had just happened. Hadn't he just, five seconds ago, claimed to be the most astute mind of the 21st century? He laughed at himself.
"Hoo hoo, I've brought..." Began Mrs. Hudson, walking into the sitting room with a tea tray. She stopped in her tracks when she realised that it was only Sherlock sitting there.
"Oh, where is your journalist friend?" She asked, looking around the room like she was expecting to find John hidden behind one of the doors.
"He left," said Sherlock, folding his hands in his lap.
"Oh, interview over so quick?"
"No." Sherlock admitted, forehead creasing. "I think John Watson is different."
…
The minute John got back to his desk he sat down and took 3 long, deep breaths. He hoped to God the incident would be forgotten, this was the sort of shit he could get fired over. But not now, he couldn't get fired now.
It's okay, you're not going to get fired. Sherlock wasn't angry.
No, Sherlock wasn't angry, he was...
John shook his head, trying to force the incident out of his mind.
He opened his laptop and took his notes from his notes folder and laid them out on his desk.
Taking another deep breath, he began to type.
The esteemed detective Sherlock Hol
...Sherlock Holmes, London's most...
Sherlock Holmes, BRITAIN'S most...
...The famous detective, Sherlock Holmes...
...Sherlock Holmes...
...Sherlock Holmes...
John slammed his laptop shut and let his face fall into his hands. Never before in his entire career had he done something so unprofessional all because of his own personal, unfounded allegations.
He straightened up and promised himself to never let that get in the way of his work again.
John couldn't bear to think about his embarrassing error at that moment, so instead he pulled out a fresh piece of paper and began to make a first draft list of all the things he would need to get in for the Christmas party he had to host.
After a while, John began to forget about his incident with Sherlock Holmes and began pricing up his Christmas list.
He couldn't help snickering at how ridiculous a concept it was to try and cram his entire family and family friends into his tiny flat, and how his mother would endeavour to fix him up with every single girl he wasn't related to.
John laughed out loud. "Mum will faint if she finds out both of her kids are gay."