Prompt: The great present unwrapping at 221b Baker Street, from Poseidon - God of the Seas

Merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates!

I shall always remember the Christmas of 1883, as it was the first that Holmes and I truly celebrated together. In the two years previously, due largely to lack of funds and a certain distance between us, we had determined not to exchange gifts. By 1883, however, after I had begun to accompany Holmes on more and more of his cases, we had become fast friends, and I looked forward to the Christmas festivities with a childlike excitement, having had no one to celebrate with the last few years.

I do not know if my fellow-lodger felt the same way; his rational mind saw Christmas as an unnecessary interruption, but when he emerged from his bedroom on Christmas morning, I saw a smile steal across his face at the sight of the pile of gifts underneath our small tree.

"Merry Christmas, Holmes," I said. "Have some eggs before getting to the presents."

"Merry Christmas to you as well, Watson," he answered, seating himself across from me. "I did not think there would be quite so large a pile, I must say."

I surveyed him in some disbelief. I had reasons for not giving or receiving many gifts, having been abroad in Her Majesty's service, knowing no one on my return, but I knew well that he had acquaintances all over the city, thanks to his cases. Did he consider none of them a friend? Not for the first time, I felt rather badly for my odd fellow-lodger.

"Do not look so sympathetic, Watson!" Holmes said with a laugh. "I much prefer my acquaintanceships to remain professional. Aside from yourself, there are few I wish to associate with personally."

"I suppose I should take that as a compliment," I said, flushing slightly red.

"That is how I meant it," Holmes said quickly, not looking me in the eye. "Shall we get down to present-opening?"

"All right," I said with a smile, knowing how the conversation had taken an emotional turn he would be uncomfortable with. He settled himself in his armchair, and opened a small tray of cookies.

"I suspect these are from Mrs. Hudson," he said. He sniffed them and smiled. "Shortbread! My favorite."

I took the small note affixed to them. "'Merry Christmas, Mr. Holmes and Doctor Watson. Enjoy! From Mrs. Hudson.' That was sweet of her," I said. "She is under no obligation to do that."

"Hmm," Holmes said, already on to the next set of gifts. For someone who did not have many friends and didn't altogether like the holiday, he appeared as excited as any child visited by Father Christmas would be."

"Ha!" he exclaimed. "This is from the Yard, no doubt." He showed me a book, a collection of detective tales. I could not help laughing as I read the inscription.

"'Dear Mr. Holmes, perhaps you can learn a thing or two from these fellows.'" I looked up. "A joke gift, I assume?"

"They are merely tired of watching me get the better of them all the time," he said, picking up a long, thin package. I smiled, knowing what it was. I was very proud of myself for having found it.

"Watson, I have needed a new walking stick!" Holmes exclaimed, tearing the paper off. "Thank you!"

I squinted at the stick in question; I didn't remember it looking like that, and I wondered if the shop had gotten my order wrong. I had ordered one polished black, to match my companion's favored clothing color, and this was a handsome mahogany instead. "Holmes, I think they may have made a mistake."

Holmes looked it over in confusion, brightening when he saw the inscription. "No, I am the one who has made the mistake. This, my dear fellow, is yours."

"Oh!" I said, taking the walking stick. It was heavy, and polished to a high sheen. The inscription, Dr. John H. Watson, was in gold near the top.

"And this, I believe, is mine," Holmes said, taking a second long, thin package and opening it. I smiled. This was the walking stick I had ordered for him, all in black with his name in silver near the top. "This will be most useful in my cases, Watson. It is quite heavy enough to be a weapon."

"That is what I asked for," I said. "The shopkeeper looked at me as if I had asked for a poison dart. Also, look at the bottom."

Holmes squinted at the bottom of the stick, testing its weight in his hand. "Aha!" he cried. "It is heavier!"

"I had it weighted in lead at the base," I said. "I remembered how the leader of that last gang of thieves simply broke your old stick in half, and thought it would be useful if it came with a hidden weapon."

"Watson, I do believe you have found your calling as a detective's assistant," Holmes said appreciatively. "This is the most useful gift I have ever received."

"I am glad to hear it, and you're very welcome," I said. "I suppose mine does not come with any such hidden treasures?"

"Actually," Holmes said, smiling. "Check the top, Watson."

I noticed that the top knob seemed to be loose and I removed it, finding to my surprise, a good-sized dagger hidden inside. "Holmes! This will be very useful in close combat! Thank you, my dear fellow."

"I remembered how you were caught unawares by that horse thief last month," Holmes said, his face darkening. I had had no weapon, and if Lestrade had not been there, and jumped to my rescue, I have no doubt I would be spending Christmas in the hospital. "Now they will be the ones caught unawares."

He and I looked at each other for a moment and then burst into laughter. "I cannot believe we thought of the same gifts," I said, when I finally caught my breath.

"It is rather ironic," Holmes said. "I must say, no one else has ever guessed what I would like for the holidays."

"There is one more gift, Holmes," I said, taking an envelope out of my pocket and handing it to him.

He opened it, his eyes widening when he saw what it was. "Tickets for the first London performance of Brahms' latest symphony? Watson, however did you get these? I have been trying for months!"

I smiled, "A friend of mine from the army medical corps recently returned and took a job with the London Philharmonic, scheduling performances. He was most kind in getting us tickets, and you can see the seats are excellent."

"Indeed," Holmes said. "Thank you very much, Watson, and you must remember to thank your friend for me. These are more valuable than gold, right now."

It was easy to see how affected he was, and I was extremely proud of myself for thinking of it. I was no music expert, and it was mere chance that I had heard of the success of Brahms' work in Vienna, and thought Holmes might appreciate tickets for it. He rarely, in those days, was able to attend all the concerts he wanted, and besides, he often said that they were not nearly as enjoyable on one's own, and in those days that was the closest he could come to saying he appreciated my presence.

Besides, he always provided the most entertaining commentary on our fellow concert-goers. I spent more than one outing collapsed in giggles due to his deductions. One thoroughly enjoyable evening for both of us was more than worth the price I had paid for the tickets.

"Speaking of music, I have been arranging Christmas carols for the violin," Holmes said. "Would you care to hear?"

"Indeed, I would!" I said. "Thank you, my dear fellow."

""Not at all, Watson," Holmes answered, taking up his violin. "Thank you. I had no idea Christmas could be so enjoyable."