December 26: "Chocolate." (from Book girl fan)
The first Christmas after my marriage was spent at my new home with my beloved Mary and our friends, and while Holmes had been cordially invited, he did not come. It was quite a shame, as Mary had prepared what was (in my opinion) the best Christmas dinner good old London had ever seen, leaving all of us more stuffed than the turkey had been, and that was before she brought out the biscuits.
Despite the fact that he considered himself to be a brain which happened to have a body attached, Sherlock Holmes enjoyed dessert more than any man or woman I'd ever known, especially dessert involving chocolate. He tended only to partake of it during the brief period between the conclusion of a case and the intellectual stagnation which followed it, but Mary had so many delicious chocolate chip biscuits left that it seemed a shame not to share them with him.
"You're in luck, Doctor," said Mrs. Hudson when she let me into 221b and I explained my errand. "He ate three square meals yesterday and breakfast this morning, so I daresay he'll take a keen interest in Mary's baking."
"Excellent!" I replied, eagerly tramping up the remaining six stairs to the sitting room.
"Good afternoon, Holmes," I greeted my friend cheerfully.
Holmes glanced up at me from the newspaper he had been reading.
"Ah, Watson," said he. "I knew you would come. I suppose you have brought me some of Mary's baking?"
I set the box of biscuits upon the table. "Chocolate chip biscuits," I informed him.
Holmes quirked a grin. "Thank you, my dear fellow."
"I do wish you had come yesterday," I said.
Holmes gave an impish grin. "Why would I do that, when I know I shall enjoy the best of Mary's culinary skills even if I do not come at all?"
I rolled my eyes. "Next year, I'll make sure you don't receive any biscuits unless you come to Christmas dinner."
"That is cruel and unusual, Watson." Holmes shook his head slowly, pressed his lips into a thin line, though his eyes betrayed his continued good humour.
"The threat stands," I replied, wagging a finger at him.
Holmes laughed, but when he did not come to Christmas dinner the next year, I made good on that threat. And the year after that, Holmes did come. I am convinced it is no coincidence.