December 4: "Green." (from Book girl fan)
It was nearly Christmas in London, but if all one had as a reference point was the sitting room at 221b, it would have been impossible to tell. This dismayed the doctor and the landlady, but that was just the way Sherlock Holmes liked it.
"For the last time, Mrs. Hudson," said Holmes through gritted teeth. "I do not want a blasted tree in my sitting room!"
The long-suffering woman set a plate of toast before Watson. "Not even a small one?" she insisted."Or a wreath? You can't object to a wreath."
"I can and I will," replied Holmes, glaring at her over The Times.
"Scrooge," Watson coughed.
He scowled at Watson, who gave an innocent shrug.
"We need something decorative, a little greenery," said Mrs. Hudson.
"I have plants," said Holmes. "But you two wished me to keep them in my room."
"Poisonous plants are not festive, dear."
"But I like poisonous plants," Holmes replied.
Watson smiled to himself. An idea had struck him, but he would say nothing of it until he had carried it out.
That afternoon, Holmes returned from his most recent investigation to see a dozen sprigs of mistletoe hanging at intervals along the mantle.
"What is the meaning of this?" he growled.
"I thought you liked poisonous plants," said Watson. He grinned boldly.