From mrspencil: celebrations
...
"Mrs Hudson, your turkey is divine! Much better than my wife's cooking!" Lestrade praises.
"Thank you, sir!" Mrs Hudson beams.
I smile as I watch our friends chatting and laughing. We have invited Stamford, Lestrade, Hopkins, Gregson, Mycroft Holmes and Victor Trevor round for Christmas lunch at 221B, and it appears everyone is enjoying themselves.
Except Holmes.
"Cheer up, old fellow!" I tell him, turning to my left, but he just glares at me, with what I dare describe as a pout that a child of four would envy.
"He was like this in earlier days," Trevor recalls. "I recall he was one of the few people I met who are very judgmental about the festive season."
I did not wish for Holmes to be miserable, but I had no idea how to cheer him up when there are guests present. I was so distracted by my problem that I accidentally saw my knife too far into one of Mrs Hudson's best china plates, causing everyone in the room to stare at me, and Mrs Hudson to give me the ever dreaded, ominous 'if that plate is damaged, may God help you,' look, and I feel my cheeks warm in embarrassment.
"My apologies, everyone- I was momentarily distracted." I explain- only to hear Holmes snickering softly beside me, and if it weren't for the fact I was in the presence of our good landlady, three Scotland Yard Inspectors and the British Government, I would most definitely have stabbed him with my knife. Instead, I try to look remorseful.
"Now I better see to the pudding- I wouldn't be long, gentlemen." We watch her exit the room to retrieve her famous Christmas pudding from the kitchen.
...
Once everyone had resumed eating, and Mrs Hudson absent, I turn round to glare at my friend, who is still smiling despite my annoyance. "Holmes, what is so amusing to you?"
"Your face, Watson- I have never seen such a man look so foolish, man. Just be grateful you're still alive after that dreadful attempt to entertain us."
I wonder why my friend has suddenly perked up in humour- this does not seem like it at all. It is only as this curiosity pops into my head when I notice that Trevor is suddenly trying, and failing, to look innocent.
He must be responsible for Holmes' mood turn.
I am about to ask what he has done, when my dear friend suddenly rises, and starts Highland dancing with no prior warning to anyone. I groan as I remember our time in Scotland a few weeks back, with Lestrade not only bearing witness to his oddities, he had also been amused.
It appears that now everyone is amused, for the Inspectors start roaring with laughter, and even Mycroft lets a few guffaws pass his lips at the mere sight of his little brother fully getting into the Highland fling.
"What have you done, man?" I hiss to Trevor, who merely shrugs in amusement.
"One thing I learned about Holmes, Doctor Watson, is that he goes into a Bedlam worthy fit of activity whenever he consumes too much sugar." He grins wickedly. "So I may or may not have put sugar in his wine when he wasn't looking."
"You devil!" I say, but he just chuckles.
"Oh, don't worry Doctor, he'll be fine. Besides, you wanted him to perk up."
I couldn't argue with that, even though I didn't approve of his methods. But the fact that he had done this deed without my flatmate noticing was admirable- I always got caught out trying to sneak sleeping pills in his tea or coffee.
We both burst out laughing as Holmes start singing 'Lo, a Rose E'er Blooming' whilst attempting to play 'Silent Night' on his violin and balancing on one foot.
"By Jove, he's gone mad!" Lestrade splutters.
"Correction- he is mad. He just needs a little encouragement to unleash the full extent." Trevor admits with a smile. "I just hope he doesn't hurt himself." He admits.
"At least he has a personal physician on hand," I remind them, and they laugh- just as Mrs Hudson returns with the cake.
"Here we are, if you're not too full, gentlemen, we now-MR HOLMES!" A loud shatter and squelch accompany her exclamation.
My dear friend stops in his tracks and gazes at her, looking a bit sheepish, to say the least.
"What do you think you're doing?" She asks.
"Being an utter fool, Mrs Hudson- I do apologise." Holmes says, having started to recover a little from his fit of energetic madness. One look from him at Trevor and I, and I realise he knew about what had transpired.
"Sugar in my wine, Trevor? I should have seen it coming old chap."
"You honestly did not know"-
"When I did, it was too late." He admits. "I am only thankful you are a friend out to use me for sport than an enemy set on poisoning me."
"How the deuce did you manage to do it, Trevor?" I ask him. "I've lived with him for years, and he still catches me out if I dare try and put pills into his tea or coffee!"
"Well, I have my secrets, he has his." Trevor replies loftily, earning a glare from the two of us.
"Now, Mr Holmes, are you quite finished?"
"Yes, my apologies about the cake, Mrs Hudson. But no fear, Mycroft has a spare with him."
"Yes. Knowing you, little brother, I figured you would be responsible some mishap or other." He confirms coolly. "Now, if you'll excuse me, Mrs Hudson, I shall fetch said replacement."
...
And so, we manage to wolf down Mycroft's fruitcake between all eight of us. I don't recall exactly, but I think Lestrade and Mycroft ate the most. The latter was no surprise to either Holmes or myself, but the former- even Holmes admits he failed to see Lestrade as being one to eat his weight in pudding.
Afterwards, we all retire to the living room to play 'Squeak Piggy Squeak' on the condition we forbid both Holmes brothers from being the farmer, for obvious reasons.
Somehow, however, my friend does end up the farmer, and he is able to best all of us at it, even though I later found out my cologne was responsible for Holmes identifying me before I even squeaked.
This is why knowing a detective with such high abilities such as Holmes has its downsides.