Christmas Morning

In the ivory London sky, sun rays struggled to beat through the thick, dense clouds which had been churning out snow for the past week continuously. White flakes fell delicately to the grounds of Baker Street covering both road and pavement, masking the prints of heavy boots and tire tracks. London was quiet and dim for the time of day and season. The streets would usually be lapped with tourists and busy business-people rushing for the Underground and cabs.
Baker Street was quiet. Everyone was inside in the cozy warmth of a fire and steaming brews of tea. 221B was, of course, different. Sherlock Holmes sat beside the roaring fire of his and Doctor John Watson's flatshare. Despite the cold outside which came through in cracks of the battered window-sil, Sherlock sat still with only a dressing robe and pyjama bottoms on. Thin, frail fingers raked together in thought at his weak, pink lips.

Mr Holmes cleared his throat loudly and continued to think over Moriarty's heineous strategy's against him. Sherlock new precisely what James Moriarty was up to but never thought for a moment to let his colleague in on his brainstorm. And besides, Sherlock felt too proud and superior over his colleague despite their closeness and relativity.
The thoughts started to give Sherlock a very negative overshadow in his mind. So many 'What ifs' and 'Maybes' raced around his head, distracting him from developing his plot further. However, Victoria, Sherlock felt, was different to John. Sherlock's hate slowly started to melt away from her a little bit at a time. A little bit everyday and the hatered and bitterness was almost completely destroyed when his lips were set to hers. But Sherlock never let his mind rest in that spot for any longer than five seconds. The great Sherlock Holmes could not get wrapped up in the schoolyard thoughts of a girl. A woman, even. He knew his happiness and pleasure in this area couldn't continue given Moriarty and of course, John.

Sherlock took his gangly hands away from his face when the door of 221B Baker Street was rattled. He looked towards the entrance to the living room and stared for a couple of moments until the door was battered again. From behind the wooden door, a voice shouted through to Sherlock,
"Hello, Sherlock?! C-Can you let me in please?!" Sherlock sat upright promptly in his chair and widened his eyes. It was her. She wasn't to be expected on a day of family and love and joy. She wasn't to be seen wasting her time in Baker Street. Despite this, Sherlock nervously moved towards the entrance of his living area and Victoria was already making her way up the stairs, "I hope you don't mind. Mrs Hudson let me in-" her voice was caught short as she almost ran into him, "Oh. Sorry! Happy Christmas." Victoria smiled at Sherlock before being welcomed into the living area by Sherlock's guiding hand.

After taking the seat opposite her, Sherlock started to scan her and her belongings. The large black bag at her feet was filled with a large box which had been neatly wrapped in red, satin-like paper before being topped off with a moss green velvet ribbon. Of course, very expensive. Victoria wouldn't leave things half-hearted. Sherlock remained quiet as she unwrapped her scarf from her neck and shrugged off her damp, snowy jacket. His eyes were calculating, trying to work out exactly what she was here to discuss. It was as if the large bag wasn't the biggest clue for the consulting detective. Victoria brough her hair around one side of her neck and finally sat forward to Sherlock with a sigh, "Okay. Before you start; John and Harry don't know I'm here. They think I'm picking up cranberries so I'll have to be quick. A nice, fleeting visit."
Sherlock scoffed whilst gazing off into the flames, "You really needn't be here." Sherlock mustered out quietly yet Victoria continued to smile. Victoria leaned forward to pick up the large box inside the black gift bag. It rested on her lap and her eyes studied it, trying to figure out what to say. Slowly, she started to talk, "I-I know we weren't meant to get you anything... But I refused to let John buy you nothing. It's a gift from us both. I talked him around." Victoria looked up at Sherlock who was still looking deeply into the hot flames, "Christmas isn't Christmas without a gift from people who care."
With that, Victoria extended the present slowly to Sherlock and his head turned to recieve the gift which had been expertly wrapped. The long thin hands grasped the heavy box and he took it into his lap. It was wide in size but shallow in depth. Sherlock's hand traced over the paper before slowly untying the bow. Her smile grew the closer Sherlock got to opening it. After minutes of ripping and pulling, Sherlock brought out a brand new, glistening violin and bow, "B-Before you say anything, money isn't a topic of conversation here. It doesn't matter what we paid. Just enjoy it. And, hey! Maybe you can play a new piece at New Year. Maybe." Victoria gushed with glee at Sherlock's dazed and shocked expression. He looked to her in thanks and set his gift down at his side. Sherlock pushed himself up from the armchair to hunt for Victoria's present. Quietly still in her chair, Victoria pulled an envelope from her small handbag and offered it to Sherlock when he returned with her gift, "I want you to take this. I don't want you to think of this as charity. I just hate thinking- that I, the youngest of my siblings, is put up in this glorious MoD home and my brother is struggling to make his ends meet. This is for both of you. The coming years rent." Victoria took Sherlock's free hand and set the envelope inside his palm, closing his fingers over on top of it. Sherlock grew stiff and his mouth went dry in shock. Her hands held his fingers in place as she struggled for the next sentence, "Seven-thousand six-hundred pounds. Please do not tell John. This is purely my gift to you both. For John because of his tired, exhausted struggle and for you... For helping him through that. He's almost semi-normal again." Victoria tried to laugh yet it fell flat in the silent room. Sherlock stared at his hand which was covered with hers. He was silent, "Sherlock, please. Don't turn me away on this. Take it. Keep it from John. Look after him."

For a second time, Sherlock cleared his throat and took the envelope shakily from her warm touch giving her an excuse to smile again. After setting the envelope down the side of the armchair, Sherlock extended his other arm with her gift, "It's, er- it's nothing. Just a little something. I had to ask, ha, er, Mycroft. I mean- ha, he's around you almost everyday. He knows what you like." Sherlock weakly smiled at her and brought his arm back quickly, "I can always return it if you don't-" his voice was drowned out by Victoria's phone going off,
"Ah! Oh, I have to go. Sorry, I'm sorry. I'll open this at Harry's, Sherlock. I bet it's lovely." Victoria hurried to pull on her coat and put her small gift into her pocket. Her phone continued to go and pulled it from her bag, "I'm so sorry. We'll be home tomorrow, Sherlock! Have a great Christmas." She smiled at him and pecked the side of Sherlock's head before rushing to the door and answering her phone-call from John.

Sherlock started to stir in his seat hearing her leave the house. The thought raced around his mind. The thought of letting her in. Letting her know exactly what John and himself had been trying to keep her out of. Suddenly, the idea of avoiding Moriarty in conversation was sickening Sherlock to his very core. He desperately needed help and Victoria was the greatest asset Sherlock had. After all, she was Sherlock.
Sherlock felt a surge of energy run through him. This was the sight of a desperate man. He was quickly pushing himself from the worn armchair to face out the window and beckon for her to return to the flat. In the rush of opening the locks on the windows and pulling them open, the Black Cab outside was turning out of a bland, snowy Baker Street. Sherlock licked at his lips and slammed the windows closed before sinking to the ground in a panicked frenzy. What was he to do?