Hey guys! Really sorry about the delay for this one, it's been a fairly hectic couple of weeks. The good news is that I have some freelancing work going for me, bad news being that it takes up time. Then an unexpected networking opportunity came up and I had to make a business card, and update my linkedin, blah blah blah, that kind of stuff. On the more interesting end, I've been horribly behind on working on Sherlock: The Game is On things and needed to generate some material for that.
Excuses, excuses, I know. But it's finally here, the next chapter. And for your patience, it's extra long (and maybe a tad extra cute) - hooray! Thanks for reading and for your continued support, and thank you to everyone who has reviewed, favorited, and followed. Enough from me, read on! Christmas is approaching and of course John would drag Sherlock with him to do some holiday shopping...
Renaissancebooklover108 - Muahaha! More fun to come though, promise!
veronnieroo - Haha, well done! And so glad you're enjoying it :) (Also, I know you're right with the disclaimer stuff, but can't be too safe!)
RhiannonAmidala - Quite possibly ^^ (yay, Cabin Pressure fans!)
yay - Thanks, I'm glad you do! I like their dynamic as well.
Caileigh of Berk - *whispers back* Here you go, so sorry it took so long!
Disclaimer: Thank ACD, Moffat, Gatiss, and Rowling for their genius. My inspiration starts with them.
The arrival of the Christmas Holiday always brought gleeful smiles and sighs of relief to the students of Hogwarts (and, though the students would never consider it, the professors). It meant they had made it through another term and had a few weeks to recover from the mass essay writing and tests that tended to pile up just before the holidays. Break was just long enough for students to become excited again to get back to school – to be groaning by the end of the week, of course, but it all worked out well enough.
Since they had become friends four years ago, Sherlock and John had switched off visiting one or the other's home for part of the holiday. Sherlock would never admit it, but he was grateful to have John with him. He was able to slip away for a week or two when it was his turn to visit the Watson's, and when it was John's turn to visit, he made the time at the Holme's residence slightly more bearable.
This year John would be staying with the Holme's, and had traveled directly there with Sherlock as he would be spending the first portion of the holiday with him.
"Come on, get up Sherlock!" John called out to his friend as he walked into the library where the young man sat trancelike on the sofa in a dressing gown. "Oi," John poked him repeatedly, "Christmas is only a few days away and we've got loads to do. And don't tell me you've already got your presents because that's total bollocks. You'd sooner say that gifts were a, a," he waved his arm around in thought, "farcical tradition of forced sentiment or something."
Sherlock smirked. "I would have gone with, 'meretricious and waste of time', but well spoken, John. They are quite farcical."
Disgruntled, but not to be dissuaded, John grabbed his arm and pulled him up. "Oh, shut up."
As Sherlock reluctantly went upstairs to dress properly – why he couldn't just go to Diagon Alley in his dressing gown and sheets was beyond him – John helped himself to a plateful of the delicious breakfast the house-elves had prepared. As they pulled on their hats and Sherlock donned his favorite scarf, a house-elf reappeared in front of Sherlock.
"Shall I tell Master Mycroft that you're off, Sir?"
Sherlock sighed at the mention of his brother's name. "Do what you like, just make sure he doesn't bother us or have us followed. Again."
"As Sir wishes, Sir. I will relay the message." With a pop the little elf vanished in the blink of an eye. John didn't think he'd ever get used to the little creatures, only ever seeing them when he visited Sherlock. It was an old fashioned concept, but at least they seemed happy enough at the Holmes Estate. And he, for one, appreciated their fantastic culinary skills.
Sherlock merely looked unfazed at the encounter and grabbed a small handful of Floo powder from an elegant, obsidian vase. John followed suit.
"So we're flooing to the Leaky Cauldron then, yes?"
Sherlock nodded. He stepped into the flames, threw down the powder with a baritone, "Leaky Cauldron", and disappeared in a burst of green.
Before following suit, John called out a tentative, "Um, hello?" Shortly after one of the smaller, female elves popped into existence.
"Sir? Do you require something Mr. Watson?" She inclined her head before almost shyly looking at him with big green eyes. John had a hard time recalling what he had summoned the elf for as he followed the springy movement of her ears as they wobbled back and forth with her movement.
"Well…no. But I just wanted to ask- we're headed to Diagon Alley and I just wondered if there was anything we could pick up for you or the others?"
She shook her head back and forth, her ears once more distracting him. "Oh no! No, no, no, no," her voice spoke bobbed as much as her ears did. "Mr. Watson is kind to ask, but Mistress and Master Holmes keep us well stocked with what we require."
John smiled back and her and nodded. He knew the Holmes treated their elf family very fairly, and quite often just left them to their own devices. "If you're sure, then."
He stepped into the fireplace and looked down at his handful of silver dust. "Wish me luck," he muttered. A squeaked, "Good luck, Sir" saw him off as he released his fist and felt the disorienting spinning that always signaled Floo travel.
"What took you so long?"
John opened his eyes once more to find himself amidst a very bustling pub. Unsurprisingly, everyone and their cousin were here to do some last minute Christmas shopping. Sherlock drawled beside him looking bored already. Fantastic.
"Nothing, now let's go before it gets even more crowded." John nodded to a fellow sixth year they passed as they made their way to the brick arch. He squeezed through after Sherlock as witches and wizards were attempting to get in and out beside them.
After stepping to the side to avoid the foot traffic, Sherlock regarded John once more. "Well, this was your idea as you're so eager to do gifts, so where would you like to go?"
"Umm, hang on a moment," he replied distractedly as he searched his coat for something. "Aha!" He pulled out a piece of paper with a list on it and regarded it for a moment. Sherlock observed all of the cheerful people in the street as they moved with far too much energy and empty chatter. "Why don't we go to the Quidditch shop first so I can knock out a few gifts straight away."
Two hours later found the boys meeting up for lunch and breaking from their gift browsing. Unsurprisingly, Sherlock didn't buy gifts for many, but had gone off on his own to make a few purchases for those he did feel obligated to give something to.
"So, how did you do?" John regarded the sleek bag Sherlock now had with him.
"Let's just say that I will not be outdone this year by Mycroft," Sherlock grinned smugly. He and Mycroft were always competing to see who would get the best gift for their parents. Of course the Holmes parents never claimed any gift better than another, nor were they particularly around all that much, so Mycroft and Sherlock acted as the judges…which is why it was an argument that continued to this day.
"Right, well, I'm glad to hear that." Sherlock opened his mouth to say something but John interrupted. "And NO. I am not going to judge your gifts, so quit trying to get me to take your side."
Sherlock deflated and folded his arms across his chest. It hardly matters, I don't need any extra support to prove the superiority of my gift.
"What about Mycroft, did you get him something?" At that Sherlock smiled devilishly. John raised his eyebrows, half expecting Sherlock to break into a bought of evil laughter, and shook his head. They're horrible. Truly. I mean sure, Harry and I don't always get along so well but this is ridiculous.
They chatted a bit more as they finished their meal. Sherlock pulled on his scarf, eager to get going.
"Are we done here, John?"
"Actually, not quite. I've just got one more stop to make, but I thought maybe you could help me."
Sherlock huffed. "Let me guess. You're trying to get another girl's attention and you want me to tell you what it is she likes so you can impress her with the perfect gift."
"Nope," John grinned. Not for me to impress, at least.
"Alright," Sherlock waited for John to explain as he was lead through the streets toward one of the smaller book shops. "What assistance could you need from me for a gift, then? You've often admonished me for having a terrible sense of the meaning, and I quote, Sherlock, a gift is something you give to say you appreciate someone…not to throw their shortcomings in their face. Though you can't deny that my gifts come from spot on observations about people," he muttered.
John rolled his eyes as they stopped outside of the more secluded shop. "Well, you've been doing much better and I'm a man who believes in second chances. Now, I was thinking this might be a good spot, but I'll take a second opinion from the great Sherlock Holmes."
"Fine," he sighed, "who is it?"
"Molly Hooper," John smiled back at him brightly.
"John, if this is some kind of ploy to-"
"Ploy! Sherlock, what kind of bloke do you think I am?" John beseeched jokingly before continuing on a more serious note. "Listen, Lestrade texted me earlier and he says things aren't going so well with her dad. I'd really like to get Molly something nice, and I know that you can help me find the right thing. So what do you think - good spot?"
Sherlock regarded the store in front of them, considering. "I think it's worth taking a look," he replied.
"Excellent, thanks Sherlock." John wrapped an arm around his mate's shoulders and dragged him inside while adding, "And oh, I dunno, maybe you would like to get her something, too, while we're here."
"Caring is not an advantage, John," he responded quietly as he was pushed through the door.
"Now that sounds like Mycroft talking," John replied in a lowered voice as he gave a small smile and nod to the store clerk in the back. "And it's a load of dragon dung. Caring creates bonds, and bonds can never be truly broken. Caring is a blessing, Sherlock."
Unable to stop himself from arguing, Sherlock threw a question at John as they browsed a shelf on their left. "Her father is going to die. She is suffering and will be emotionally crippled, which will distract her from functioning at her best," he spoke in low, clipped tones. "Where is the advantage in caring about him?" He spat.
If John hadn't been friends with Sherlock for four years and gotten to know the brilliant Slytherin so well, he would have punched him right then and there. Taking a deep breath and releasing it, John strove not to get upset. Step back and observe the situation a voice went through his mind. He's angry, otherwise his tone would be even. He's upset about Molly's situation. He can deny it, but I know him.
Releasing another breath and relaxing once more, John answered Sherlock's question. "I can't give you concrete evidence to support caring being an advantage. But here's something to ponder: imagine what Molly would be like, how different a person she would be, if she didn't care about her dad."
Sherlock's brow furrowed in thought as he went over the scenario John presented.
The more he imagined a Molly who didn't care about people and was emotionally detached, the more he began to frown. It didn't fit, wasn't right on a fundamental level. And he didn't like it. Not one bit.
Some minutes later John heard his friend mutter, "She wouldn't be Molly." John shook his head in agreement with a quiet, "no."
"Alright, why don't we split up. I'll look over here, and you let me know if you find something." With a nod from Sherlock, John side stepped around another few cases and began to stare at title after title once more. Hmm, she likes potions…and cats…and Sherlocks…maybe I could send her Sherlock, all wrapped up with bows, holding a kitten and some advanced potions books. He chuckled at the thought of how either would respond to that before focusing again and finding himself searching a section featuring magical mysteries. Huh.
Sherlock retreated briefly to his mind palace and sifted through past encounters with Molly to find something suitable for a gift John could give her. Potions was obvious, and he knew she was well read in the subject. Something people want and don't necessarily need, John's words came back to him. His conversation with Molly in the greenhouse popped up.
Sherlock glanced at the headings over the shelves and was unsatisfied. He strode over to the owner and quietly requested to be directed to any material regarding wand lore and wand properties.
The gentleman, a wizard reaching the upper portion of middle age slipped around the counter with a smile and asked Sherlock to wait one moment. He immediately shuffled to one shelf, grabbed a book, went across the store to another shelf and grabbed two more. He then came back out to the middle aisle, paused for a few moments in deep thought, then, with a little, "ah!", went to retrieve one more book from an entirely different shelf in the back.
He certainly could organize his store more logically. Sherlock listened as the man unloaded the four books on the counter between them. Each one was described briefly before he stepped back to unobtrusively let Sherlock examine the books, pleasantly telling the young man to just ask if he needed anything else.
After finding one that piqued his interest out of the four, Sherlock called John over. "Here. The title is deplorable, but I believe it will do nicely," he said as he handed John the book.
John took the book and glanced at it briefly. "Wizardly Wonderings of Wands…so she's interested in wand stuff, then? Great," he smiled at his friend as he dug out some sickles to pay for the book. "Thanks Sherlock." He smirked to himself. "You're sure you don't want to get her anything?"
Sherlock simply nodded in return, face a blank mask of boredom as he glanced at a few books John had discarded on his way over to the counter. John thanked the owner and he and Sherlock made their way back through Diagon Alley.
"Well, that wasn't so bad! We've got time to spare, fancy an afternoon around London?"
"So long as it buys us time away from the house, then fine. It's bound to be less tedious." John never quite understood why Sherlock hated the Holmes estate so much. Maybe it had something to do with a lonely childhood (Mycroft had started at Hogwarts when Sherlock was five, so hadn't been around most of the year. And the manor was in a more secluded area) or maybe due to strict rules growing up. He couldn't be sure, Sherlock never explained beyond, "it's extremely dull."
"I imagine so, mate. Actually, I'd like to see if I can get something more normal for…my…parents," John slowed to a stop, looking inside the window of the Magical Menagerie. "Hang on, is that Greg?" His eyes shifted slightly to the right. "And Molly?!"
Sherlock glanced over. "Indeed."
Grabbing Sherlock he crossed the street over to the shop in question, and, after making sure his gifts were all concealed, opened the door and went inside.
"Hey Greg, Molly," he called out to them as he strode over with a little confusion. "Sooo, what's going on here?"
Greg was grinning like a first year and snickering at Molly. "Ah, well, you see…" He couldn't continue as he succumbed to a bought of laughter again.
"I don't know why it's so funny, Greg," Molly complained. She was certainly in an, um, unusual position, John observed. Just as Molly finished greeting John she spotted Sherlock walk into the shop as well.
"Sherlock!" It came out as almost a squeak and the very uncertain looking witch grew even more awkward. This set Greg off again, which set off Molly glaring again, and when he calmed himself a few moments later he explained why Molly looked the way she did.
"Molly and I came in looking for some specific food for Toby. As you can see the store is a bit of an animal, isn't it?" His pun earned himself another glare from Molly. "Anyway, she was in the middle of administering some dose of something to these little fellows here," he gestured at a band of cloth sacks with baby bats now wrapped around Molly, "and said she certainly had some of Toby's food in the back and could Molly just hang on to these precious creatures for just a moment as she fetched them – this all being said as the band was shoved enthusiastically onto Molly – Then some kids walked in and wanted to see the animals, and I'm afraid the shopkeeper is a bit sidetracked and all over the place and here we are."
Molly looked extremely lost as one bat grew tired of its tiny pouch and began to climb up her arm. She didn't want to move and disturb the other bats. John tried hiding a laugh as well, but the whole thing just looked utterly ridiculous and the noise escaped his lips anyway.
Just then a raven flew by and squawked at the bats, and when she moved back protectively with her limited range of motion, she upset a cage containing – actually, she wasn't quite sure what it was, but it started hissing very angrily, causing it's neighbor, some sort of small wildcat, to hiss back. A howling on the other side of the store began and the raven turned its attention to a nearby mouse who squeaked and jabbered to its cage mates in a terrified manner. Molly looked petrified at the ruckus her misstep had started. "Help?" She implored.
Sherlock shooed the raven away from their area and stepped forward to gently remove the bat from her arm and place it back in the cloth. "Thanks," she sighed in relief. He actually smiled back at her, a genuine smile. But then, closer inspection of his upturned lips gave her pause. No wait, he's laughing at me, too! Merlin's beard, they are all intolerable! Every one of them. Boys. Where is Sally when you need her?
"Not your favorites?" He arched an eyebrow at her, still in her already too crowded space. Admittedly, the image in front of him did make him smile, and was one he would store in his mind palace for years to come.
She reddened. "Oh, no, they're fine. I just don't quite know what to do," she admitted abashedly. Her awkward position with the string of creatures made that quite clear.
John and Sherlock waited around with them for another five minutes before Molly was relieved of her position as animal guardian. As they chatted Sherlock would occasionally lean forward and place an escaping bat back in its place or shoo away a stray cat or bird prowling their way.
Apparently Molly had met Greg here to run some errands while her dad went in for another scan at the hospital. She hadn't been allowed into the treatment room and had only agreed to leave the hospital when her dad asked her to do some shopping for him and get what she needed as well for Christmas. She had dialed Greg to see if he wanted to join.
As she went up to pay, Sherlock and John bid them goodbye and a happy Christmas. Well, John did at least. Molly and Greg returned the sentiment and each promised to stay in contact throughout break.
Greg waited patiently while the eager shop keeper trapped Molly in a conversation about what seemed to be every animal in the store. At least Molly seemed interested enough. His mind began to drift elsewhere once they got started on the rabbits and pygmy puffs and how cute they are. He glanced at a cage beyond the counter and saw a silver fox. Now there's a good looking animal, he thought.