CHRISTMAS TWO

The doorbell rang yet again, but Emelia paid no attention. She was in the kitchen, talking to Nana and baking cookies, as per her mother's request. It was made tolerable by all the dirt on Sherlock and John that Nana was all to happy to share with the girl she considered her granddaughter. The little girl was very attentive, storing each story in her memories.

She heard a commotion near the door, but out of sight. It sounded like a freight train had entered her living room. She dusted her hands off and walked into the room.

Her father was staving off the advances of a small brown dog, while John attempted to pull it off of Sherlock. Crys, for her part was laughing, because Sherlock kept yelling insane things.

"No, bad Jawn! Get down! JAWN! Get your dog off of me. No Jawn stop, I don't want to be licked! JAWN! GET JAWN OFF ME!"

Emelia joined Crys in her laughter, as did John, when he finally succeeded in releasing Sherlock. Little Lock appeared around the corner and Jawn took off, chasing the cat into Emelia's room, but not before licking Emelia and Sherlock once each.

"Hello to you too, Jawn."

Mrs. Hudson came into the room then, insisting on hugging John. Over his shoulder, back to both men, she mouthed "Go to your room" and winked. She then ushered both boys into the kitchen to try her cookies. Amid the complaints, Crys and Em were able to sneak off to the bedroom. Crys shoved Jawn and Sherlock off the bed and laid out a manila folder while her friend locked the door.

"Alrighty, what have we here..." Emelia muttered as she looked at the contents. The folder held five typed sheets (two of which looked like a transcript of something), five pictures of a dead Sherlock, two pictures of a man neither had seen before, and finally, statements from all of Sherlock's friends and acquaintances. Emelia picked up a picture of Sherlock in one hand and a picture of the other man in the other. "Hmmm... I wonder who this man is. Obviously, he committed suicide before Papa jumped."

Crystal picked up the transcript. "Uh... Em? I think you should see this," she said, handing the paper to her friend.

Emelia looked at the paper and gasped.

THE LAST CALL BETWEEN SH AND JW

JW: Hello?

SH: John.

JW: Hey, Sherlock, are you okay?

SH: Turn around and walk back the way you came now.

JW: No, I'm coming in.

SH: Just. Do as I ask. Please.

JW: Where?

SH: Stop there.

JW: Sherlock.

SH: Okay, look up. I'm on the rooftop.

JW: Oh god.

SH: I— I— I can't come down so we'll just have to do it like this.

JW: What's going on?

SH: An apology. It's all true.

JW: Wh-what?

SH: Everything they said about me. I invented Moriarty.

JW: Why are you saying this?

SH: I'm a fake.

JW: Sherlock—

SH: The newspapers were right all along. I want you to tell Lestrade, I want you to tell Mrs. Hudson and Molly. In fact, tell anyone who will listen to you. That I created Moriarty for my own purposes.

JW: Okay, shut up, Sherlock. Shut up. The first time we met—the first time we met—you knew all about my sister, right?

SH: Nobody could be that clever.

JW: You could.

SH: I researched you. Before we met I discovered everything that I could to impress you. It's a trick. Its just a magic trick.

JW: No. Alright, stop it now.

SH: No, stay exactly where you are. Don't move.

JW: Alright.

SH: Keep your eyes fixed on me. Please, will you do this for me?

JW: Do what?

SH: This phone call, it's... it's my note. That's what people do, don't they? Leave a note.

JW: Leave a note when?

SH: Goodbye, John.

JW: No. Don't. No. SHERLOCK! Sher-

Emelia looked to Crys and opened her mouth to comment on the phone call, when John's voice echoed upstairs.

"Girls! Dinner!"

Em shoved all the pictures and paper back into the folder and hid it under one of her 5 pillows. She winked at Crys as they ran down the stairs and took their places at the Holmes's dining table.

Mrs. Hudson insist they bless the food, even though no one present was religious. She did the honors and then everyone dug into the meal Irene had prepared.

"So, brother," Mycroft began, "have you thought about getting a job and contributing to society?"

"Oh you would love that wouldn't you? Sherlock Holmes lowered to working a normal job," Sherlock sneered, spearing a slice of ham maliciously.

"Sherlock does a fine job here, Mycroft," Irene defended her husband, "It's good for Emelia to have her father here all the time."

"Yeah, it means Papa and I get to do experiments together!"

"What? Sherlock..."

"Oh relax, Irene, it's not like I let her touch anything. She watches."

"Observes," Em corrected.

"Sherlock, I think what Irene is trying to say is that Emelia shouldn't be anywhere near human body parts at seven years old."

"Oh John, please," Mycroft rolled his eyes and scraped some potatoes onto his plate. "Sherlock was making things explode in his room at five, she'll be fine."

"What? And did you ever do any of this?" Greg asked, mouth full and fork waving about in the eldest Holmes's direction.

"Of course not."

"No, instead he was perfecting his suck-up techniques."

Silence fell on the table.

Greg squirmed in his seat. "SO, um, Emelia. Have you made any friends at school? What grade are you in now, fourth?"

Emelia giggled at the DI's joke. 'No, only second. I have one friend."

"Oh? Who is she?" John asked, as he and Mycroft leaned a fraction closer, already protective of the youngest member of the party.

"He, Jawn. His name is AJ. AJ Hooper."

"Hooper? You never mentioned his name was Hooper," Irene commented.

"Hooper? You never mentioned anyone named AJ Hooper!" Sherlock shouted.

"Hooper... Hooper... Who do I know that has that last name?" Mycroft mumbled.

"Molly!" Lestrade and John yelled at the same time.

"I must take a look at this AJ Hooper..."

"Absolutely not! You stay out of my daughter's social life!" Sherlock warned his brother. He had been buttering a roll, so he pointed the knife at Mycroft.

"Why, I'm just trying to look after my niece. Something you seem to have neglected to do."

"I will not have my parenting skills insulted in my own house!" Sherlock stood and embedded the knife in the table.

"Sherlock! That is mahogany!" Irene shouted.

"I'M PLANNING A WEDDING FOR GREG AND MYCROFT!" Emelia shouted over the adults squabbling, hushing them all. Lestrade and Mycroft were blushing furiously.

"The cat and turtle," Crystal clarified.

"Really?" John asked, a bit weirded out by the thought of a cat and turtle being married.

"Yes, really. Crys is going to be the maid of honor. I, of course will be officiating the ceremony, but we need a best man. I wanted Papa to do it, but he couldn't find the time to listen. Will you do it Jawn?"

"Me? Uh... yea... sure, I'll be the best man."

"Great. Mama promised to take me shopping after New Years to get My measured for a tux and find Greg a tie."

"You're really serious about this, aren't you?" Greg asked.

"Of course! I wouldn't joke about such serious matters. Can we open presents now?"

The party moved into the living room. Everyone opened their gifts and Mycroft was, once again, the decidedly worst gift-giver ever. The two girls were enjoying the use of their new belongings when Emelia stood up and placed her hands on her hips.

"Uncle Greg, where's Mymy's present?"

"Hmm... What?" Greg was drawn out of the conversation he had been having with John.

"You didn't give Uncle Mymy his present."

Greg coughed and looked to a stunned Mycroft for help. "Well... Um...I-er..."

"Did you really think I wouldn't notice?"

"Emelia, love, why don't you and Crystal go play with Jawn?"

"Mycroft, my dear uncle, why don't you answer me?"

"Emelia, that's enough. Leave Mycroft alone"

"Ignore your mother. Why don't you answer her, brother?"

"Sherlock, stay out of this."

"Hmm... no."

"Sherlock Oliver Holmes..."

"Mycroft Gladstone Holmes..."

"Do tell us, Uncle Mymy, why hasn't Greg given you a present?"

"Gregory? Why haven't you given me my present?"

"What? I told you why."

"Oh really? Why then?"

"Sherlock, stop badgering poor Gregory."

"Mycroft, stop being such a child and answer my daughter."

"Can we just forget this?" Greg pleaded.

"NO." All three geniuses rounded on him.

"You want to know? Fine, I'll tell you." Mycroft whispered into the ears of his momentary opponents. Sherlock got up, blank faced, and locked himself in his lab. Emelia broke into a smile and pumped her small fists in the air.

"I knew I deduced that right!"

"Deduced what?" John asked, unclear on what just happened.

"That Mymy and Greg are shagging," Emelia blurted, immediately slapping her hands to her mouth after the words left her mouth

"EMELIA!" The couple in question shouted, both turning identical shades of red.

Mrs. Hudson hugged both men. "Oh! Congratulations! I'm sure you two are very happy."

The others echoed her, and in all too little time, everyone was going home. On the train ride back to Stratford, John turned to his daughter.

"I wonder where Em learned what 'shagging' meant?" he asked in a very incriminating way.

Crystal smiled guiltily. Her father rolled his eyes but gave her a one-armed hug.

"I should've known," John sighed.

"What did you expect, Dad? I'm a Watson, she's a Holmes, you know how it goes."

"Yeah, yeah I do."