A/N This is the continuation of a prompt series I started a long time ago - three years ago, I guess. I've been adding to it since, and this is the first entry for this year's holiday season. If you haven't read the previous chapters, don't worry: it's not necessary. You can jump right in here. The chapters are somewhat random, and they're not even in alphabetical order. They're not all canon stories (though some do fall in the canon universe), and they don't all take place in the same "story universe." I will make a note when one particular chapter relates to another (or others). Also, the dates jump around quite a bit. Already we've got a chapter as far back as 1895 and one as far forward as 1931. You can assume each is a one-shot in its own little world unless otherwise noted. This one stands alone. It's set in the canon universe, just a few before the proposal. Enjoy!

H - Holly and Ivy

December 18, 1924

Mr. Carson was walking down the corridor when he heard some thumping and grumbling coming from Mrs. Hughes's sitting room. He approached her half-open door and observed her for a moment. She was seated at her small table, concentrating on something she held in her hands. Spread about in front of her were bits of foliage, some pine cones, a pile of dried berries, pieces of ribbon, a ball of twine, a spool of wire, and an array of tools.

"Mrs. Hughes?" he called out to her from the doorway.

She looked up from the task in which she was absorbed. "Oh! Mr. Carson."

"Everything all right?" he asked. "Only I heard some bumping about, and you sounded … well, less than pleased."

"Oh, it's nothing," she told him. "I'm having a rough go of it with this greenery, that's all. But it's fine now. I think I've almost got it. Do you need something from me?"

"No, no. I heard you fussing, and I only wanted to check that all is well."

"Oh, yes. Not to worry. I'll manage."

"Very well, then. I'll leave you to it." And he went about his business.

But an hour later, as he once again walked past Mrs. Hughes's sitting room, Mr. Carson noticed her still sitting in the same place, with the same supplies and implements on her table, apparently having made little progress.

"Ouch!" she cried, pulling her finger away from the leaves and branches and the wire frame to which she was attempting to attach them.

"What is it, Mrs. Hughes?" cried Mr. Carson, rushing to her side. "Is something wrong? Are you injured?"

"Oh, no. It's nothing, Mr. Carson. I'm sorry if I startled you. Only I pricked my finger on the holly."

"Here. Let me see." He sat down in the other chair at the table and held her hand to inspect the wound. He took his handkerchief from his pocket, wrapped the wounded finger, and squeezed gently for a few moments. After a suitable time, he removed the handkerchief and was relieved to detect only a small amount of blood on it.

"There you are," he told her, still grasping her finger and examining it. "I think it's stopped bleeding now."

"Yes, I think it has," she concurred. "Thank you."

She smiled at him, and he reluctantly released her hand, subduing the urge to bring it to his lips to kiss it.

"You know, Mrs. Hughes, there's a rather obvious way to avoid this type of injury. Have you considered wearing a thick pair of working gloves?" he asked as he folded his handkerchief and set it aside.

"I can't wear gloves!" she cried. "This is a very delicate operation. I need precise control over what I'm doing. Gloves would be too clumsy."

"Ah. Yes, of course. I see. Well, in that case, might another pair of hands make this 'delicate operation' any easier? I realize my hands are quite a bit larger and much less nimble than yours, but they are at your disposal nonetheless. Since I've got nothing pressing to do at the moment, I could assist you if you'd like."

"Well … as a matter of fact, Mr. Carson, I think I'll accept your kind offer. What I need right now is not dexterity but strength. If you wouldn't mind helping me bend this wire while I twist the leaves … "

And for the rest of the afternoon, they worked together, battling the stubborn greenery: Mrs. Hughes arranged the leaves and branches, and Mr. Carson bent and twisted the metal framework and fastenings. Every chance he got, he stole a glance at the beautiful woman before him. Each time she smiled up at him, each time he caught a whiff of her fragrance, each time her hand brushed against his, each time she made a little huff of frustration or sigh of satisfaction, he became impatient and was sorely tempted to abandon his plan and reveal his heart to her right then and there. But with herculean effort, he managed to resist. After all, he did have a plan, and it would be only a matter of days until he could enact it. He'd waited decades; he could certainly refrain for six more days. Mr. Carson might not have had much experience in such matters, but he did know that a proposal on the night of Christmas Eve would be far more romantic than one in the middle of an ordinary workday. And he did want to do it properly. Mrs. Hughes deserved no less.

At last, they finished, and Mrs. Hughes seemed satisfied with their efforts. The fruits of their labors consisted of piles of decorations for the Great Hall upstairs: four wreaths of holly and ivy, three garlands of pine branches, two large arrangements to serve as table centerpieces, and six smaller evergreen sprays to serve as embellishments around candlesticks.

"Well! I daresay these will suit quite nicely," declared Mrs. Hughes after a critical appraisal of all the items. "Thank you for your help, Mr. Carson."

"You're most welcome, Mrs. Hughes. I'm always happy to help," Mr. Carson assured her.

She quirked an eyebrow and smirked at him. "Are you, now? Be careful what you say," she warned him playfully. "Now that I'm aware of your talent in such matters, I shall press you into service again next year."

"And you shall find me willing and eager once again."

"Well, then! I shall hold you to that."

"Please do. I am at your service, as ever," he said, and he hoped she understood how sincerely he meant it.

"Yes, well. I believe we've finished here. I'll have some of the lads carry it all upstairs later. I should let you get about your business; I've taken up your entire afternoon."

"You've not kept me from anything important," he assured her as he rose to leave.

"Thank you again," she told him.

He nodded and smiled as he made his way to the door. But before he left, he turned back to her.

"Mrs. Hughes?" he said.

"Yes?" she answered, looking up at him.

He regarded her seriously. "Soon," he told her simply.

She crumpled her face in confusion. "'Soon' ... what, Mr. Carson?"

"Soon, Mrs. Hughes. Soon," he said again. And he returned to his pantry, leaving her to wonder.

A/N As I said in my beginning note, this series is an ongoing thing. I keep adding to it as I'm able. I don't promise to finish the entire alphabet this year, but I have some ideas, and I hope to get through several more letters, at least. Thanks in advance to anyone who still is following or has any interest in this; reviews would be lovely.

And for anyone who's following my current fic "An Unexpected Fate," updates will probably be sporadic during the next few weeks. As you all know, this time of year is really busy, but when I do manage to snatch some free time, I'd rather write something seasonal – and I suspect you would rather read something seasonal when you snatch some free time. But I promise not to abandon the aforementioned story. No worries on that count.