NOTE: THANKS! For reading, for the patience. It's appreciated. Finally done, I hope you like it.
Hamish pressed his face into his pillow, trying to get away from the sound of the alarm clock on his bed side table. In truth, he had not been asleep long. He had tried to stay up the whole night, just to be certain, but after he saw dawn break, he decided it was probably safe enough to go to sleep for a short period.
He reached over and pressed the alarm to the off position. Not allowing exhaustion to diminish his enthusiasm for Christmas day, he flung his legs over the edge of his bed and dropped his feet down to the floor. He slipped his dressing gown over his pajamas as he scurried to the door. He paused at the threshold to gaze around his room for a final look. Satisfied all was as it should be, Hamish quickly clambered down the stairs and ran to his parents' door.
Hamish banged his fists against the door and started yelling,
"It's Christmas! Christmas morning! Papa! Papa!"
John cracked an eye towards the bedroom door where the sounds were coming from and then to the clock...7:03am. He groaned and called out,
"Come in Hamish!"
Hamish turned the door knob, bounced into the room and jumped onto to the bed, landing on his papa. Papa made a loud grunt as Hamish's knee found papa's tummy.
"Oof, Hamish, get off me!" John said with a rough laugh. "Go jump on your father, get him to wake up!"
Hamish hopped over to sit on top of his father's back. He leaned down to press his face against the side of his father's face, and bellowed out as loud as he could,
"Merry Christmas! Father! It's Christmas! Get Up!"
Hamish saw his father's eyes fly open, his head snap up as he playfully shoved Hamish to the side. Happy that apparently both his parents were awake, he jumped back down and ran from the room, calling out,
"I'll make tea!"
Sherlock's deep laugh rumbled through the bed as John was rubbing sleep from his eyes, and giggled,
"He's making tea Sherlock," and let out a pleasing sigh.
Sherlock laughed a bit more and then replied, "So I heard."
John rolled to his side and pressed an affectionate palm on Sherlock's rumpled face. He cast soft eyes over his husband and smiled, as he leaned in,
"Merry Christmas Sherlock," and gave a light kiss.
Just as John started to pull away, Sherlock slid his hand behind John's head and pulled him closer, kissed him a little more deeply, then leaned away,
"Merry Christmas John," Sherlock sighed with content as he let John go.
John smiled and said,
"Come on, let's get in there before he burns down the kitchen."
Hamish sat cross legged on the floor between his parents chairs. Papa came in and handed him a steaming cup of hot chocolate. Of all the hot chocolates he had had this holiday season, papa's was by far the best. He took great care not to overheat the milk and got the balance of chocolate precisely right. Hamish took a quick sip and smiled up at his papa.
John had dutifully drank Hamish's tea, which was as good as any four year old could make. But then quickly made more for himself and Sherlock. He handed Sherlock a cup and set his down on the table. He looked over his son and husband for a moment, as the warm morning sun beamed in from the windows through the Christmas tree and John tucked that wonderful image away in his mind.
"Alright, Presents! I'll hand them out...I do believe that was the agreement?" John said with a slight question in his voice.
Both Sherlock and Hamish nodded, and John walked over to the tree. Each year, Sherlock had made a game out of deducing a present John gave him. John would disguise the present as best he could, by wrapping it in multiple boxes or adding items to change the sound. This year was the first time Hamish was in on the game.
They had established simple rules. Hamish and Sherlock would each receive a present to deduce. John would handle the presents. Only one shake of the box was permitted and the deduction of the contents must be made in a timely fashion. Sherlock agreed to give Hamish a handicap by allowing John to write a clue on the gift tag.
John selected the first box for Sherlock, griped it firmly to avoid making any sound, and slid it on the table in front of Sherlock's chair.
Hamish watched with rapt attention as his father started his deductions. Father bent his head down to the level of the table, looked on all sides of the present that were visible while he gave the present a few sniffs. It was a small box, about the size of a coffee mug.
Father leaned back into his chair and gave a smug grin. He folded his hands on his lap, and smoothly said,
"I've got it."
Papa raised an eyebrow and asked,
"Not going to pick it up, look at the bottom? Maybe give it a shake?"
Sherlock shook his head. "It's cologne"
John folded his arms across chest and with a challenging eye asked,
"And why do you think that?"
"You've wrapped the cologne in a box that was used for Christmas three years ago. I recognize the shape. Shame on you for repeating yourself John," Sherlock said as John rolled his eyes.
"Three years ago, that box held my favorite soaps, I can still detect a residual smell. Thinking that would help mask the smell of cologne was smart on your part John."
John couldn't help but smile at the compliment.
"However, that's where you've made a mistake. While the soap and cologne have different names, they come from the same manufacturer. Since both products use similar base components for the fragrance, it only enhanced the smell of the gifted cologne, and therefore allowing me to detect that it is Serge Lutens' Borneo 1834. A very nice present John. Am I correct?"
John just looked to the heavens. Of course Sherlock was correct, and John gave a defeated wave as Sherlock quickly grabbed up the box and tore the wrapping open. As he popped open the box, a few glass marbles rolled out. John had hoped to convince Sherlock he had gotten him bath salts of the
same type as the soap.
As Sherlock cradled the cologne bottle in his hand he looked up at John and said,
"This is too much John, you didn't have to get me something so expensive."
John just gave a smile and stepped over to Sherlock,
"I'm glad you like it," and bent down to give him a kiss.
John stood up and gave a clap of his hands,
"Alright Hamish, now you've seen the world's greatest consulting detective at work, are you ready to deduce your present?"
Hamish nodded enthusiastically. He watched papa reach under the tree, grab a very large box and slid it in front of him. Could be anything in that box. Hamish stood up and rested his chin on the palm of his hand. He walked around the box slowly, taking in the wrapping and gave the box a sniff. Only smelled like cardboard. He shifted an eye towards his father, who had schooled his features to be blank.
John bent down and lifted the box up as he said,
"Here, let me show you the bottom," and held it high over Hamish's head.
Hamish glanced over papa more than the box. The box must be partially filled with paper, if papa could handle it so easily. The bottom was similar to the rest and papa quickly set it back down. Hamish thought to give it a shake but remembered that he would get a clue on the gift tag. He looked at the top and read the gift tag. It said
To: Hamish Watson-Holmes
From: 713
Hamish turned his eyes back up to papa who was smiling widely. Then papa gave an unconscious glance over to father...or was it at father?
Hamish looked back down and grasped the box. It felt fairly heavy to Hamish, and he gave it a good shake, then set it back down.
He sat back down on the ground and thought. He had heard shifting of paper, a slide of plastic wrapping, and a good number of solid things bumping against each other, sounded like fifteen or sixteen items. Hamish guessed seven of the things were of similar size and then there were eight or nine things of similar size as well.
Hamish looked back at his papa, and then looked at father, at least what was just behind father...the bookcase. Then he looked down at the number713 again. Hamish turned his head up at papa and exclaimed,
"I've got it papa!"
Papa smiled widely and then raised a finger, wiggled it a bit and said,
"Come and whisper it in my ear."
Hamish gave papa a questioning look as he walked over, and raised up on his tip toes as papa leaned down. He whispered his answer, and John smiled excitedly,
"Well done Hamish, you're exactly right!"
Hamish beamed with pride and bounced over to open the present when papa stopped him by saying,
"Want to see if father can guess what's inside?"
Hamish hesitated. It's possible father could deduce it, but given the subject matter, father may have trouble.
Hamish tucked one arm behind him and gave an expansive wave with the other arm, inviting his father over.
Sherlock couldn't help suppress a chuckle at his young son's mannerisms. He unfolded himself from his chair with a smug grin, knowing he would make short work of this. He quickly glanced over the box, lifted it up and gave it a shake, then took a look at the tag.
He marched over to the bookcase, where John had not so subtly looked at and pulled a book off of the shelf.
"The Essentials of Pathophysiology" and then glanced at Hamish...perhaps too advanced of a subject for a four year old, and placed the book back. Sherlock continued to look at the other books but was not able to decide on a subject matter suitable for a present for Hamish.
He stood in front of the box one more time, folded his arms and rested his chin in his hand. Clearly there were seven books and eight dvds in the box, but Sherlock did not know what the subject matter was and did not understand the significance of the number 713. He was drawing a blank.
John looked at Sherlock and decided enough was enough, and said,
"Any thoughts? Guesses?"
Sherlock gave a deadly stare at John as he slid his hands into the pockets of his robe and then shook his head.
"The present is books and DVDs, I know that. I just can't tell what they are."
John turned his head towards his son. John had hoped that this would be part of his gift to his son.
Hamish felt a thrill go through him. He slid both hands behind his back and said.
"Yeah, I heard that too, the sounds of them sliding around. I thought there may be 15-16 objects, although some could have been added into the box as a distraction from the actual presents. Given papa's sense of fair play, and he thinks I'm at a disadvantage, I don't believe he's added any objects in the box."
Hamish walked over to papa and said,
"The number 713 took me a minute to remember, given the number of times we had read that book, I'm surprised it took me that long. That and your glance to the bookcase finally told me," Hamish said as he walked past his father and over to the bookcase. He reached out, not for a book, but for a small white owl figurine.
"Hedwig," Hamish said, "I used to hold him while you would read me the books."
Hamish looked down and ran his fingers over the owl and smiled. Papa always read to him each night, even when Hamish learned to read on his own, he loved to listen to papa read.
"Papa got me all seven of the Harry Potter books and the eight movies!" Hamish said as he told his father and then stepped over to papa to give him a big hug.
John bent down and gave Hamish a hug and a kiss on the top of his head.
"Merry Christmas Hamish!"
Hamish let go and said, "Thank you papa!" and turned to tear open the box.
As Sherlock watched Hamish rip open the box with enthusiasm, he slid over to John, leaned in and whispered,
"What's the number 713 have to do with Harry Potter?"
John just smiled and said, "It's the vault number in Gringott's Wizarding Bank, where the Philosopher's Stone was kept."
Sherlock just nodded as if he knew that and had just forgotten, then said,
"Fiction...really not my area John."
John gave a chuckle as he stepped forward to help Hamish pull the books out of the box.
Sherlock spun towards the tree and said,
"How about I pass the rest of these out..." and reached for another box.
Many more presents later and the sitting room looked a right mess with wrapping paper and boxes everywhere, even a bit hanging off of the antlers. Hamish was snuggled into the sofa, his nose buried in a book, a new deerstalker on his head as well as a scarf wrapped around his neck. A few Lego sets laid on the coffee table, half completed, sitting alongside a couple of jumpers.
John and Sherlock looked their son over, and John said,
"My god Sherlock, we've spoiled him terribly."
Sherlock hummed and then said,
"This is the last year we can spoil him John, especially with a new baby on the way."
"Two new babies Sherlock!" John exclaimed as he rubbed a bit of worry into his face. "What were we thinking?"
"You were thinking that Hamish has grown up too quickly. That you missed so much of him as an infant, and you didn't want him to be an only child."
John just nodded and kept watching Hamish.
"Too bad we didn't get him that chemistry set..." John said quietly.
"Yes, it's a shame," Sherlock said softly, "But I do believe Santa Claus may have gotten it for him."
John snapped his head over to Sherlock, who was sitting grinning like a Cheshire Cat. John raised both his eyebrows high in a question, but Sherlock quickly turned his head towards Hamish and said,
"Come on Hamish, help clean up a bit," as Sherlock stood and went into the kitchen to grab a garbage bag from under the kitchen sink. He could hear Hamish groan a protest and John gently encouraged the boy.
When Sherlock came back into the sitting room, Hamish was slowly crumpling up paper. Sherlock held open the bag as Hamish and John tossed the paper in. John kept a curious eye on Sherlock.
Hamish wandered around the sitting room picking up and Sherlock said,
"Hamish, grab those bits from under the tree please,"
Hamish kneeled down to grab the paper when he saw it. A long box, wrapped in Christmas paper, hidden behind the tree. Hamish leaned in more and saw his name on it, written in a large flowing script, heavy black ink on a golden gift tag. It said it was from Santa Claus.
Hamish looked up to father, who was looking across the room at papa. Then he glanced back to papa, who was looking right at Hamish.
Hamish got flat on his tummy and wiggled his way underneath the tree, then reached out for the box.
When he had his fingers on it and started to pull, he heard papa ask,
"What do you have there, Hamish?"
Hamish gave a grunt as he pulled on the big, heavy box, and said,
"I don't know. It's another present and it has my name on it."
Papa stepped over and knelt down to help Hamish pull out the box. He cleared a space on the coffee table, and they carefully placed the box down.
John ran his fingers over the tag and said,
"It's from Santa Claus, Hamish." John carefully looked over at Sherlock.
Hamish let his jaw drop a little and just silently nodded his head as he looked the box over, when father's deep voice called out,
"Aren't you going to open it?"
Father was still standing holding the bag of garbage, although it had fallen to his side. Hamish blinked a few times and then said,
"Right, yes, of course," and then quickly started to pull at the paper. He knew what it was, just knew what it had to be, and as the paper fell away his eyes stopped moving and his hands just hovered over the box.
The words CHEM C3000 gleamed across the top of the box above the images of the holding rack, droppers, beakers, burner, and containers of chemicals that danced before Hamish's eyes. He had hoped for the C1000, maybe the C2000...but this was the C3000! Hamish had never dreamed or even thought to ask for something like this. He looked down at the bit of paper with the gift tag on it and Santa Claus's name written across it, and it gave him pause.
Sherlock watched his son's gleeful expression turn thoughtful. John stood slacked jawed at the sight of Hamish in awe of the wonderful present Sherlock had gotten him.
Hamish quickly snapped himself out of his thoughts and said,
"It's a chemistry set! The greatest chemistry set ever! I can't believe it, I just can't believe it!" and turned to his father to give him a hug.
Sherlock knelt down and hugged his son back.
"Santa knew just what to get you, didn't he?" Sherlock said softly. Hamish pulled out of the hug and looked at his father.
"Yes, Santa knew exactly what I wanted," Hamish said with a hesitant look in his eye. He started to speak, but stopped. He gave his father a long look before he said,
"It's kind of a present for both of us father, since we share our chemistry supplies," Hamish said with a hesitant smile.
Sherlock gave a cautious smile back and said,
"I suppose that's true."
Hamish gave his father a tight nod before he turned to papa,
"Can I open it?"
Papa looked down at Hamish, the mess in the sitting room and considered for a moment before he said,
"Why don't we take it upstairs for now, you can look at it on your bed, okay?"
Hamish nodded as papa picked up the box and carried it upstairs. Hamish followed through the sitting room door, turned back to see father staring out the window. Hamish wanted to go to him but thought better of it. He quickly went up the stairs. He walked in the room just as papa was setting the box down on the bed.
"Don't take too much out of the box, ok Hamish?"
Hamish nodded and climbed on the bed to pull the top off. Papa reached over and ruffled his hair a bit.
"Quite the chemistry set Hamish, I hope you like it."
Hamish nodded as watched papa walk out of the room. He looked down, listened, and waited. He heard the door close and father's voice call out,
"So now you know."
Hamish swallowed hard before he looked up to see father leaning against the inside of his bedroom door. Hamish slowly nodded.
"How did you find out?" Sherlock asked quietly.
Hamish picked at the corner of the box holding the chemistry set.
"There were a few things, "Hamish mumbled.
Sherlock carefully stepped over to the bed and sat down next to Hamish.
He slid his arm across Hamish's shoulders and looked down. Hamish looked up at his father and saw the question in his eyes.
"I was certain I knew when and where I would find Santa Claus. Right up until I saw the case files," Hamish said as he looked down.
"Yes, what about the case files?" Sherlock asked.
"There was a clear pattern of how Santa entered and exited the houses, as well as the type of physical evidence left behind. Although the details varied from case to case, the pattern was the same," Hamish looked down and wrung his hands a bit before he continued,
"Last night…if you were on a stakeout as you said you were, then you would have caught Santa Claus if he dared to come to Baker Street."
Sherlock held his tongue and then asked,
"What do you think happened last night Hamish?"
Hamish pulled in a deep breath and said,
"The way I see it, there are three possibilities. The first possibility - Santa Claus did come to Baker Street last night, you confronted him as he was delivering the chemistry set. After much soul searching, you let him go. The second possibility - After he delivered the chemistry set, you confronted Santa and took him down to Scotland Yard."
Hamish pressed his lips tightly together before he continued,
"The third possibility…" Hamish hesitated and then said softly. "There is no Santa Claus and you got me the chemistry set."
Sherlock slowly closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again he saw his young son staring up at him. Sherlock quietly asked,
"Which of those possibilities do you think happened Hamish?"
Hamish flexed his right hand in a fist and then slowly held up three fingers, with just a little bit of a question still on his face. Hamish seemed certain, but still had some doubt remaining.
Sherlock shook his head and said,
"You're wrong Hamish,"
Hamish squished his face into a deep look of surprise. Sherlock continued,
"Well, you're partially wrong," Sherlock said, and then continued very quickly, letting the words spew out,
"Many believe that the modern version of Santa Claus is based on a real man. Perhaps Saint Nicholas from Greece, also known as Nikolaos of Myra, who had a reputation for secret gift giving. Or could be based on Sinterklaas, a legend from Netherlands. Either could be the historical basis for the current mythology."
Hamish just looked at his father and tried to understand what had sounded like a thousand words being said all at once, and then just blinked a few times. Sherlock reached down and held Hamish's hand.
"There was a man, long ago, who would give presents. Since then the story has grown."
"Why do some people believe in Santa Claus?" Hamish asked hesitantly.
Sherlock thought back to John's words about Santa and then said,
"People want to believe in the good in other people, that there could be a man out there who gives presents and wants nothing in return but to spread joy and happiness. Santa makes Christmas very special and magical for many people, Hamish."
Hamish just nodded and looked back down.
Sherlock thought for a moment and then asked,
"Hamish, how did you figure out that Santa wasn't real?"
Sherlock could see a small smile spread across Hamish's face before Hamish spoke,
"The pictures in the case files. While the lighting and angle were different, they were all of the same chimney… the one in 221C downstairs. Everything in those case files was too neat and fit together too easily. I suspect they've been altered."
Sherlock gave a chuckle and then asked,
"Why did you stay up all last night then, if you knew he wasn't coming?"
Hamish sighed,
"I couldn't be 100% positive. And I didn't want Santa to go to jail, so I stayed up just in case to scare him off. But he never came."
Hamish gave another sigh, even heavier than the last and looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.
Sherlock looked over his son and asked,
"Are you upset, that Santa Claus is not real?"
Hamish just shook his head and bit his bottom lip.
"Then what's wrong?" Sherlock asked.
"I'm worried about papa…" Hamish mumbled.
Sherlock asked, "What about papa?"
"Do we have to tell him the truth? That Santa Claus isn't real? I-I think he'll be devastated." Hamish said with a small quiver in his lip and his eyes started to water.
Sherlock quickly pulled his son into his arms for a tight, comforting hug, as Hamish tried to get his worries under control.
Hamish felt his father's words rumble through his chest.
"Oh no Hamish, don't you worry about papa. We don't have to tell him. He'll never find out. We'll make certain of it, ok?" Sherlock said as he felt Hamish give a nod against his chest and a sniffle.
Sherlock heard a creak behind him, and he turned to see John peaking in through the door, where he had been standing, listening. He had a wide smile and shiny eyes. He gave Sherlock a quick nod and then stepped away.
"It's going to be alright Hamish," Sherlock said as he held Hamish a bit tighter.
John walked through the flat, shutting off the lights. As he walked through the sitting room, he gathered up Hamish's coat and new scarf. He called out the Sherlock,
"Sherlock, can you get Hamish bundled up? I need to gather up the presents."
Sherlock came walking out of his bedroom, already to go to his mother's house for the evening. Dressed sharply in a suit, he silently grabbed the coat and scarf from John and bolted up the stairs to Hamish's room.
Hamish was sitting on the floor, surrounded by every single piece of chemistry equipment he had, apparently taking inventory. He popped his head up when he heard his father come in through the door.
"Ready to go Hamish?"
Hamish nodded and stood. He smoothed the wrinkles out of his trousers and straightened his jumper. Hamish carefully stepped over the glass beakers, and walked towards his father.
As Sherlock knelt down to help Hamish into his coat, he could feel the tension radiating off of Hamish's body.
Sherlock looked his son in the eye, and Hamish looked away as he said,
"I should tell you father," Hamish said hesitantly, "When I was concerned about Santa showing up. You know, when I wasn't certain if Santa was real or not. I wanted to do everything I could to keep Santa away."
Sherlock gave Hamish a look out of the corner of his eye, as he tied the scarf around his neck. He nodded for his son to continue.
"Well, I may have deliberately done something naughty, thinking that would change Santa's mind about coming to Baker Street," Hamish said as he turned an embarrassed look down to the floor.
Sherlock stood up and crowded over his son, raising his hands to his hips.
"Hamish, what have you done?"
Hamish closed his eyes and sighed.
"I may have ordered take aways online, using Uncle Mycroft's credit card from your wallet."
Sherlock raised a questioning brow.
"I may have ordered them throughout the night, and had them delivered at Uncle Mycroft's house."
Sherlock tried to suppress a smile and his glee as he stared with a stern face down at his son.
He'd been waiting all afternoon for Hamish to tell him about the take aways…all eight of them that Mycroft had texted Sherlock about throughout the night. It certainly felt like Christmas today.
Sherlock cleared his throat,
"Well, that was really quite naughty Hamish. I expect you to apologize straight away to Uncle Mycroft when we get to grandmother's house."
Hamish just nodded his head solemnly. He trudged down the stairs in silence, where behind him his father was grinning like a mad man.
As Hamish filed by John and headed towards the front door, Sherlock paused and gave John a fast kiss and then smiled even wider than before.
John looked at Sherlock with suspicion and asked,
"What on earth are you grinning about?"
Sherlock quickly placed his hands on both of John's shoulders, looked him in the eye and said,
"Hamish just gave me the greatest Christmas present…EVER!"