Why Fireflies Flash
Chapter Twenty-four
"Meaning-Meaningless"

221c Baker Street

"I didn't realize you weren't going home for Christmas."

Anabeth looked up from where she was wrapping presents on the floor in front of her couch. She gives the detective a tiny smirk that shows no emotion. He was always in her flat now. Or her in his. Though they rarely spoke.

"John's just informed me. Sentiment – family," Sherlock says with an air of confusion."It means a lot to you, so why...?" he trails off.

"Christmas is..." she says pausing in her ministrations, "not a good time to be home. It is full of forced smiles, lies, and everyone pretending they love each other. There is relentless nit-picking in the form of teasing and overly truthful drunken admitting. And as much as I enjoy seeing my nieces and nephews and Alfie and the part of the family that doesn't tick me off, I can't it deal with that. Not right now." She smiles up at him a bright smile on her face, though her eyes are clouded with misery. "Surely you must understand. Being the youngest and all."

"Of course," he agrees noncommittally. His mind is already searching through the palace, wondering why it bugged him so much, as he retreats up the stairs.

It's not until he's laid on the couch for a good long while does he realize just what it was.

221b Baker Street
Christmas Eve

"We wish you a merry Christmas, we wish you a merry Christmas, we wish you a merry Christmas and a happy new year."

Sherlock and Anabeth share a look as they both give a small bow. Sherlock's is a bit more snide, giving that Anabeth had stolen the metaphorical spotlight as she hummed the lyrics coming up the stairs. Mrs Hudson had given her a look that prompted Anabeth to sing fully.

"Lovely!" the landlady exclaims. "That was lovely."

"Marvelous," John says as he walks past with a cuppa for Mrs. Hudson.

"I wish you could have worn the antlers," Mrs Hudson continues.

"Somethings are better left to the imagination, Mrs Hudson," Sherlock tells her.

Anabeth perks up. "Wait. There were antlers?" She gives her neighbor a cheeky grin. "Oh Holmes, not everything is better left up to imagination."

Sherlock heaves a silent sigh as he turns towards John's girlfriend. "Oh, no thank you Sarah."

"Ah, no no no no," John says trying to come to the rescue. "He's not good with names."

"Ain't that the truth. He gets my name wrong all the time, Jeanette. Nothing to get your feathers ruffled over," Anabeth speaks up.

Sherlock turns to her. "I've never gotten your name wrong."

"He calls me Christabella," Anabeth continues without missing a beat. "Where on my birth certificate can you see the name Christabella? My name has been Anabeth Ellis Ryder since the day I was born."

He rolls his eyes a John leads Jeanette away from the detective. "Oh dear lord."

"Hello everybody," Molly says as she enters the room. "It said, on the door just to come up."

A round of hello's and wonderful to see you's echo through the small room as Molly slips out of her coat. There's exclamations of awe as Molly's gown is revealed.

"I told you you'd look stunning in that dress," Anabeth says as she hugs her friend.

"Having a Christmas drinkies then?" Molly says as she pulls away.

"It's the one day of the year where the boys have to be nice to me so it's almost worth it," Mrs. Hudson explains.

"John?"

The doctor moves to look over Shelock's shoulder at the laptop.

"The count on your blog, it still says 1,895."

"No," John breathes sarcastically. "Christmas is canceled."

"You got a photograph of me wearing that hat?" Sherlock wonders.

"People like the hat," John answers.

"You look adorable in that hat," Anabeth calls over.

"No they don't. What people?"

Anabeth raises her hand from where is rests beside her on the couch. "Me. I'm one of those people."

Sherlock meets her icy eyes hidden behind red-rimmed, rectangular lenses. She returns the almost unnoticeable smirk he gives her.

"How's the hip?" Molly asks of Mrs. Hudson.

"Oh it's atrocious," the woman replies. "But thanks for asking."

"Oh I've seen much worse. But then I do postmortems." Molly's eyes widen when she realizes what she says. "Oh god, sorry."

"Don't make jokes, Molly." Sherlock says glancing at the girl briefly.

Lestrade hands Molly a glass of red wine. Anabeth smiles as she sips her own glass.

"I wasn't expecting you to be here," She says to Greg. "I thought you were going to be in Dorset for Christmas."

"Oh that's first thing in the morning," he explains. "Me and the wife, we're back together. It's all sorted."

"No she's sleeping with the PE teacher," Sherlock says.

"And John," she says turning toward said man. "I hear you're off to you sisters, Sherlock and Anabeth were complaining," she shakes her head slightly. "Saying."

"First time ever she's cleaned up her act. She's off the booze," John says raising his glass slightly.

"Nope," Sherlock says with emphasis on the p.

"Shut up, Sherlock."

Sherlock ignores him choosing instead to deduce Molly's appearance. "See you've got a new boyfriend, Molly, and you're serious about him."

Molly nearly chokes on her wine. "Sorry, what?"

"In fact you're seeing him this very night and giving him a gift."

"Take a day off," John mumbles.

"Shut up and have a drink," Lestrade says as he sets a tumbler down on the table beside the laptop.

"Holmes," Anabeth says warningly replacing her glass on the coffee table. "Don't start."

"Surely you've all seen the present on the top of the bag. Perfectly wrapped with a bow? All the others are slapdash at best." The detective stands from his seat and buttons his blazer. "Must be someone special then." He grabs the present he was speaking of with a cocky smirk on his lips.

"Sherlock," Anabeth growls as she stands.

"The shade of red echoes her lipstick. Either an unconscious decision or one that she's deliberately trying to encourage."

Anabeth's quick to leap over the table and land on the balls of her feet, pirouetting the rest of her momentum out.

"Either way Miss Hooper's got lo-"

Anabeth only has to take three sure steps before she reaches Sherlock and it takes less than a second for her to go on tiptoes and capture his lips with hers.

Sherlock's eyes are wide when she backs away.

"Thank you," she growls. "Seriously, we were havin' such a wonderful holiday until you had to open your big fat mouth." She faces Molly, the glare on her face lessening. "Molly, Sweetheart, care to help me with my own gifts downstairs?"

Molly's mouth, previously agape, snaps shut and she gives a curt nod.

Anabeth smiles brightly. "Perfect."

221c Baker Street

"It meant nothing," Anabeth says the moment they're alone. "The kiss meant nothing. I mean it meant something separately to both of us, but not like what everyone thought. I mean it's pretty much just payback from when his did the same to me."

"Sherlock kissed you?" Molly's voice was full of both surprise and something akin to contempt.

Anabeth glanced back at her as she unlocked her door. "Well, yeah. But it meant nothing too. Just like that one. I was rambling on about something trying to keep an awkward aura from settling in, like I am now, and suddenly he just shouted "Thank-you, Anabeth!" and kissed me. But that was it. Well, he kinda like grabbed my arms and threw himself in to the little peck. But it was just to shut me up. Just like that kiss was just to shut him up."

"So that's what you do? You just kiss each other to silence the other?" Molly wonders as she follows Anabeth into her lounge.

"Well, no. We generally don't shut each other up. Not unless we go on tangents about not important things. Well mainly I just go on tangents about not important things and he shuts me up." Anabeth winces as she catches the tearful look on Molly's face. "I'm not helping am I? Sorry."

Anabeth sighs as she starts to gather presents. "Pretty much anything with a bow on it is a gift for the group upstairs. The rest I have to mail back home."

They're silent for a moment as they place the presents in to a large gift bag Anabeth produced from a closet somewhere. Molly's the first one to speak, picking up a small ring box from its place on the sofa table.

"Who's this to?" She asks. "Or from?" she corrects after spotting the silver engraving in the lavender patent leather.

Anabeth looks over from where she was sitting on the couch. "I dunno," she says. "Never seen it bef-" but as soon as the words left her mouth she knew otherwise. She flips to kneel on the cushions with a curious look on her face. She reaches her hand out. "Can I see?"

Molly places the small round box on her friend's palm.

Anabeth's mind is calculating as she gently opens the lid, her thumb brushing the silver lettering spelling out her middle name on the top. She barely remembers receiving this particular gift on the night she held her birthday party. It was after everything. She hadn't gotten a chance to open it before she rushed off to her new job (as a bartender, just something to tie her over while she waits for her piano lessons started. She was the teacher, not the student.) and honestly she'd forgotten about it until this moment.

Now she was afraid to open it. Because honestly, anything "gift-like" that came to mind that could fit into the small container she possessed now, was completely marked off the list considering the giver wasn't exactly sentimental and his idea of a gift varied greatly from hers. And for that reason, she squinted her eyes. Well, it was more of her fighting to keep them open. Despite the promising sign of Anabeth sketched into the top.

A gasp and a nearly shouted "Oh my god," filled the air when the lid was completely opened.

I hope this is on time. I know I was about a week late last time. Unfortunately, even though we still have about a season and a half to go through, there's only about seven chapters left.

I just finished the last one.

I'm awesome.

But don't worry.

Or do if you find this story offending in any way.

There's a sequel.