Dec 21st

John picked up the mail, and returned into the flat.

"...loads of Christmas ads, bills and...oh! A letter from Greg!"

"Why doesn't he send an e-mail...?"

"He invites us for the Christmas party at Scotland Yard. I think we should go."

Suddenly Sherlock was alarmed. "What? Why?"

"I don't know... because it's polite to answer an invitation, and it'll be fun!"

"Fun? What exactly can be amusing at standing around in an office, having awful music all around, getting drunk and having to have "polite" or "friendly" conversations with people I can't stand?!"

John was angry. "Fine! You don't have to come! But it would be kind of you! And you would do me a favour if you'd come. I don't want to go there alone."

There was a long pause before the answer. "Alright. I'll come with you."

At 6:33 pm, they made their way to the New Scotland Yard; a way, that both knew too well; just the context was usually another.

"It's going to be fun! You'll see!"

Sherlock's lips might have formed into a smile, but his eyes didn't join in. John realised that he had made a big mistake in taking his friend with him. He put a hand on Sherlock's cheek. "If you don't like it, I promise you, that I won't take you to a party ever again. Ok?"

He nodded. The two men got out of the taxi, and into the glass-building.

"Hello everyone! Thanks for the invitation." Everyone seemed to be glad to see John. The mood changed though, when Sherlock entered the room. Everybody looked at him, like he was poisonous. John started to talk to Lestrade. "Hey, Greg! I wanted to thank you personally for inviting us. Sherlock promised me, that he would behave. I honestly hope he will."

"He bloody well should. I've never invited him before, but since I'm engaged to his brother, he's family now. God help me." Lestrade winked.

"Oh, you're engaged? I thought, you only were his, um, you know, his boyfriend. Just like Sherlock and me."

"Shhht. Nobody knows yet." he started to whisper. "Mycroft proposed to me in August."

"Ah. Well, you have my blessings!" they kept talking a little, until they were interrupted by DI Dimmock, and an hour later, ended up dancing with Molly Hooper, which was strange because he hadn't been drinking. Another thirty minutes later he started to look out for Sherlock. Whole fifteen minutes after he first noticed that he wasn't there, he finally understood that he must have left the building. Hastily he went home.

And there he was. In the living room he played an unknown piece on his violin.

"When have you left?" Sherlock stopped his solo.

"About an hour and a half ago."

"Hold on. That means you've been there only..." John calculated the time. "...fifteen minutes or so."

"Exactly."

"Why have you left, without telling me?"

"You didn't miss me, did you."

"Of course I did!"

"No, you didn't, and no, I meant it differently. I wanted to say, that it was probably the best. For all of you. I would've spoiled the party."

"What makes you so sure about that?"

"Experience, John; and the fact that I dislike Christmas and parties."