December 25th. Holmes' winter estate, Yorkshire. 18:45.
The kitchen table was laden with nothing short of a feast. Bowls of corn, peas, carrots, and other vegetables dotted the table, framing a heaping bowl of mashed potatoes and a steaming goose.
Sherlock walked around the table to sit in the empty chair next to John, who was heaping Yorkshire pudding onto his plate.
"The food looks fantastic, Violet." John said, moving on to some green beans.
"Thank you, Victor, dear." Mummy said, patting her hair as she sat next to father. "It was no trouble at all. It's nice to be able to cook for more people. Maybe next year Anthea will be here?"
She gave Mycroft a pointed look. Mycroft, for his part, accidentally dropped a rather large portion of potatoes on his plate, of which some spilled over onto the table. He cleared his throat rather nervously before speaking.
"That is an unlikely event to occur." He said, not looking at mummy or father. "Anthea and I are not dating."
"Oh no, you two broke up?" Mummy asked, distraught.
"Not exactly." Mycroft sighed. "We were never dating."
"You were never- Mycroft David Holmes, why on earth did you lie to me?" Mummy demanded in shock.
"I didn't think it would be an issue." Mycroft sighed. "I didn't find anyone attractive at the time, so I thought there wouldn't be any harm in letting you assume my assistant was my girlfriend."
"At the time?" Mummy asked, raising her eyebrow.
"Well, I find myself attracted to-"
"Oh, what's her name?" Mummy cooed happily.
"His name is Gregory Lestrade, though he hardly knows I exist." Mycroft said, keeping his eyes fixed on the food he was piling in front of himself.
"Oh, you like a man." Father beamed at Mycroft. "Please don't tell me that you were hesitant to tell us because of that."
"Well, initially, perhaps." Mycroft admitted. "Though I had rather figured out your views when Sherlock mentioned that he was dating a man."
Sherlock rolled his eyes, taking a large bite of goose. His own plate was now piled high with food, though he doubted he would eat it all.
"It's not like I broke it to them gently." He reminded Mycroft. "'Mentioned' is such a casual word."
"Oh god, you probably stormed in one day, told them about your boyfriend, then flounced off again." John cut in, looking amused.
"That is exactly how he did it." Mummy laughed, looking happier than Sherlock had ever seen her. "Now, next year you'll have to bring this Gregory fellow."
"As I said, he doesn't-"
"He would be foolish not to like you back." Mummy cut Mycroft off.
Mycroft merely smiled at her before turning his full attention on his food. A comfortable silence settled over the dining room, each person enjoying the comradery without having to spoil it with useless chatter. A small movement from John caught Sherlock's eye, and he looked over, surprised to see John grinning at him. He smiled back, a warm, swooping sensation completely turning his brain offline for a second.
It was the nicest dinner Sherlock had ever had, so naturally, it couldn't last.
The room was almost completely full of policemen before Sherlock fully grasped the gravity of the situation. One moment he was enjoying John's smile, and then suddenly the room was packed with two dozen or so of Scotland Yard's finest, several guns pointed at each person seated around the dinner table.
"What on earth is going on?" Father exclaimed, looking befuddled.
"Sherlock Holmes, you are under arrest for the kidnap of John Watson." One of the officers said, his gun pointing to each one of them in turn.
"Who's John Watson?" Mummy asked, her face white with shock.
"This is John Watson." Another officer said, grabbing hold of John and pulling him behind her before aiming her gun at Sherlock, whose hands were in the air.
"That's not John Watson." Mummy scoffed. "His name is Victor Trevor, and he is my son's boyfriend."
"His name isn't Victor, Mummy." Sherlock said meekly, and all eyes turned to him.
"What do you mean?"
"His name is John Watson." Sherlock looked down at his lap in shame. "And what they say is true. I…I kidnapped him."
"You kidnapped him?" Mycroft looked shell-shocked. "I thought you paid a random man to pretend to be your boyfriend."
"You thought I was paid?" John asked, and Sherlock looked up at him. His face was unreadable; at least, what little he could see of it. The officer, who's name according to her badge was Donovan, was doing her best to keep him out of Sherlock's view. "Why?"
"Mycroft?" The officer who had first spoken asked, looking surprised. He took off his protective helmet, silver hair catching Sherlock's eye.
"You're that officer I spoke with two days ago." Sherlock declared. "How do you know my brother?"
"Mycroft is your brother?" He asked, looking between Mycroft and Sherlock in surprise.
"Gregory." Mycroft acknowledge gravely.
"Gregory?" Mummy's voice was growing shriller.
"Could we stop this little love fest, Lestrade?" Donovan sighed, grabbing Sherlock and putting him in handcuffs. "We do have a crime to stop, or have you forgotten?"
"Right." Lestrade sighed, and he went over, handcuffing Mycroft in a regretful sort of manner. "Because you are accomplices in this crime, we have to take your whole family in as well."
"They didn't know." Sherlock said quickly, "They had no idea that Victor was actually John."
"Sorry, rules are rules." Donovan said, not unkindly. "We'll take you into the station, and sort it out from there."
Sherlock watched as officers proceeded to handcuff his parents, who were too shocked to react properly. The officers began to lead them to the front doors, John trailing along behind them, looking helpless.
"Thank you." Sherlock said softly, causing John to straighten up.
"For what?"
"For everything. Being arrested aside, this has been the best Christmas I have ever had."
John gave a small bark of laughter that was laced with sadness. "I haven't done anything but complain and get you arrested."
"To be fair, I do deserve it."
"Yeah." John sighed. "But I've enjoyed my time here too."
"Enough chatter." Donovan said, coming in between Sherlock and John. "I'm taking Holmes to jail, and we'll have Sargent Dimmock take you to your fiancée."
"My fiancée?" John asked, looking blank.
"A miss Mary Morstan?"
"Mary…right, Mary." John said, tossing Sherlock another unreadable look. "That's…yeah, she'll be worried, I suspect."
"Her fiancé was kidnapped." Dimmock piped in. "I should say so."
Sherlock said nothing more as he and his family were lead out to the police cars. With the glare that Mycroft was shooting him, and the gold band on his ring finger that felt tighter by the second, Sherlock knew that it was going to be a long night.