Authors Note

I do own the Sherlock and Harry Potter franchise in my dreams as if we live in reality though, I do not.

Chapter 14. Christmas Morning

Sherlock POV

Hermione is already out by the Christmas tree by the time I wake up. Of course she fell asleep earlier than me so that may be the reason; but still even for this early in the morning she seemed ecstatic. Her whole body it seemed to be running purely just from energy, it just even seemed to be radiating from her from top to bottom. Even her hair seemed to be full of electricity, and just sparking at the ends.

"Hermione, it's seven in the morning!" I said groggily, having just woken up.

"Sherlock it's Christmas morning though!" She said and began to squeal in excitement.

Mother it seemed had been up too, preparing for this moment I'm sure. Father was awake too, though barely, dozing off nearly mid drink of his tea while reading the newspaper on the couch. Mycroft was awake even, though it didn't seem by choice. His hair was still very unkempt and he was still in his pajamas, and he wasn't rather enjoying himself either, with his usual scowl on his face.

Hermione then dove under the Christmas tree and retrieved a present, handing it to me. I could tell it was her's by the way of the wrapping, which wasn't beautifully spent too long on like mother's or father's, nor was it pristinely neat and crisp like Mycroft's. This one while had taken effort was clearly not done by a professional, and was sort of haphazardly wrapped. Not that it was a mess or anything, it was still very neat, even the large red bow being perfectly in the center of the box. I could also tell it was hers though by the way it was tied, the loops on hers like her shoes were always bigger than the ends, and for some reason whenever she made a bow it always ended up slightly crooked to the left. I tore off the wrapping paper, and untied the box. Inside the box was a bee sweater.

I stared at the sweater curiously, it was a striped yellow and black sweater, and embroidered on the center was a fluffy little bee smiling happily. Why did Hermione think of this to get me? Out of all things, she thought to get me a bee sweater? I hadn't liked bees or mentioned them really since I was little, and I certainly hadn't told her that I liked bees when I was little (just due to sheer embarrassment). How could she possibly know of those times? It was just so odd, so out of the blue, yet it was the gift that I cherished the most.

"Why did you get this for me?" I asked.

"Well I knew you liked bees, so I thought you might like it." She said rather sheepishly.

"If you don't you can just give it to me and I can retur-"

"No, it's okay." I said.

"Go on then, try it. At least we should know if it fits." Mother said.

"Yes, why don't you try it?" Mycroft added, smirking rather gleefully. Seeing Hermione eager face though I faked a smile and put it on.

"Oh this is just too darling!" Mother said rather happily, and before I could even get a word out in protest she snapped a photo.

XXX

A couple weeks earlier

Hermione POV

"Where's Sherlock?" I asked, he was usually home by now.

"Oh hello Hermione, dearie. Sherlock's just at John's place, he'll be home though soon enough. In the meantime, make yourself at home." she said, and I went into the living room, looking at all the pictures on the mantle in the fireplace.

There were numerous photos of Sherlock, though most of them were when he was a lot younger and had aged and worn with time. They mainly showed him when he was about three or four, he looked back then like a completely different person. I smiled at the photos, these photos weren't like most photos in people's homes that are perfect and almost forced and timed. These photos seemed just more natural, more homely, as if they could transport you to that time. Some in fact were a bit blurry, as if they were just capture a memory to stand time.

There was an old photo covered in dust of Sherlock playing in the bathtub, no older than four. He smiled gleefully as he made huge waves in the tub and splashed with his rubber ducky and toy pirate ship. Water of course in the bathroom was everywhere, even on the photo there was some evidence of water getting on it. Then there was a photo of him and Mycroft around Christmas time, both of them in large Christmas jumpers. Mycroft and him in the photo were making cookies, well rather it seemed Mycroft was and Sherlock was mischievously in the corner of the photo stealing and eating cookie dough. The final photo at the end was of Sherlock (this time directly looking at the camera) smiling the widest I had ever seen him smile, on the picture he was showing a large drawing of a bee, even in the corner in a messy scrawl was his name (the s being backwards). He seemed to smiling proudly at his mother, an expression I had so rarely seen in him, much less to his mother.

"Cute, isn't he?" Mrs. Holmes asked, noticing I was eyeing the photos. She then pulled out from the book case a large, worn, leather album, flipping back the pages to pictures of Sherlock from younger times.

Practically every photo in the album of Sherlock also had him with something bee related, from wearing a too large bee sweater, to drawing a bee drawing on the walls of the house, to dressing up as a bee on halloween, and even him sleeping with a stuffed bee glued to his side. He seemed so happy too, seeming happier than I had ever seen him before. Those days now seemed so long gone, so lost on him, he must have just been so much different when he was younger, he just seemed so happier. I wonder what had happened to him to make him change like that.

"He used to be obsessed with bees, talking nonstop about them." she sighed wistfully.

"I didn't know he liked bees so much."

"He was different kid back then." she looked nostalgically at the photos for a moment, and then shut the album.

XXX

Sherlock wore the sweater all morning, and as far as I could see he seemed to like it (even if he wouldn't admit it). Everyone slowly went through the presents. Mrs Holmes got a new tea set, Mr. Holmes got a new model car. Even Mycroft seemed in a less grumpy mood when he received his mountain of books. Sherlock of course I had expected got a lot of new chemistry sets, which would keep him occupied at least for a month.

When we finally got down to the last present disappointment began to build in me. I know should have expected it a little bit, Sherlock never would have really thought about it, sentiment wasn't one of the things he cared about. Besides he never really liked the holiday anyways, I should have never expected a present from him. Still though I had built up a small shred of hope of that he had gotten me something; that maybe he had actually at least considered it. I wouldn't care if it was horrible or not wrapped or anything, just the idea of him getting me something would make it worthwhile; anything would have made me happy.

"Oh Hermione," Mrs. Holmes began to say, seeing the expression on my face. I saw her shoot a death glare at Sherlock, before coming over to comfort me.

Sherlock of course didn't say anything, rather he then disappeared in his room for a while. Mrs. Holmes soon followed him with screams and shouts at him, and how she had told him to do something. They soon came out of the living room, Mrs. Holmes suddenly quiet. Sherlock followed her, with a violin in hand and sheets of paper tucked under his arm. watched him curiously as he set up the music on a nightstand, saying not a word, his brows furrowed in concentration. Then slowly he began to play.

The melody of the song was so unlike anything I had ever heard before. It was a purely magical, and even mesmerizing. The tones and notes lifted up and down smoothly like the rocking to a lullaby. Even without words it seemed to tell a story, each beautiful and unique just like snow on Christmas Eve. The music continued to dance in the air and as I listened to the sad but beautiful tune I began to smile. It was so disheartening yet it was so beautiful at the same time, and sad lining of happiness seemed to follow it. The notes were words, they told secrets to me that seemed I would only understand, as if it had just been meant for the right person to listen. It told of sorrows and pains, yet it told of happiness in the end. The song soon finished but it felt like an eternity before it did.

After her finished he said nothing, no one in fact said anything because we were all afraid to break the silence. Even Mycroft usually snide or smirking face had gone completely slack. While no music played the sound still rung clear in our heads and we all seemed to be still listening to it. Finally Mrs. Holmes decided to break the silence.

"Sherlock, that was wonderful."

I walked over to him, arms crossed. I pretended to look mad. He then turned to me confused and a bit frightened, as if he had somehow disappointed me, as if I had hated it. "I can't believe you never told me."

"What? Look I'm sorr-"

I cut him off. "I can't believe you never told me you played the violin!" he broke into a smile with relief.

"Did you really compose that on your own?" Mrs. Holmes asked.

"It wasn't that hard." He replied, which was odd considering how arrogant he could be.

"Well that was the most beautiful thing I have ever heard." I said and he sheepishly smiled.

"Good then, because it has your name." He then showed me the papers, and on the top it was titled: "Symphony 1. Hermione's Song."

Author's Note

Okay that was another very fluffy chapter! I couldn't help just making Hermione get him a bee sweater, I thought it was so cute and I just couldn't resist. The idea for the song though I have to say isn't actually mine but came from a friend who recommended Sherlock do that. The actual description of the song though is based off of this song: watch?v=6M17cM8mVM0. Listen to it, I think Sherlock would compose something similar. Anyways thank you all who read this, and please review!