Friday the 26th of December - Boxing Day
The morning has been a pleasant one. I awoke warm and comfortable on Lestrade's convertible settee and then enjoyed a delicious 'full English' breakfast with bacon, eggs, hash browns (I have not tasted these before. They are quite nice, but I think I prefer toast), sausage, toast and fried tomatoes (another thing that I had not tried - these I do like).
Before we retired last night, John very kindly went home and retrieved our night clothes, a change of clothing for this morning and toothbrushes and paste. He did not, however, remember my electric razor. Oh well, I shall have to shave when we go home I suppose.
It is not until the afternoon that we decide to visit the Winters family. Watson is not entirely sure that he wishes to accompany us, which is holding us up. I do understand his hesitation, but it irks me all the same.
Eventually, I decide that enough is enough. He has had ample time to digest and we have had a very light lunch - there is no reason for him to worry about becoming unwell. I hand Briar over to Lestrade and take my friend of old by the arm.
"Sit by me," I instruct the fellow. "Lestrade, could you have Briar in the front? Thank you."
Watson takes his seat beside me and immediately begins to fidget fretfully. I am not having that! I take his right hand in mine and then tell John to take to the air and hover until I give him the nod. He complies without question.
"Now Watson, close your eyes and breathe slowly and deeply," I instruct as I slip my left arm about him and gently rub a circle at his back.
The fellow attempts it, but his breaths shudder with nerves and become quicker.
"Stop. Rest your head upon my shoulder and breathe with me. In... and out..."
It is working! His tense back slowly relaxes with the breathing exercises and his hand slowly eases its grip, so that the feeling returns to my fingers. Then the breaths gradually become deeper still and turn into snores.
In the rear view mirror of the car, John's eyes are watching us. "Is he all right?"
I smile and give him the signal to begin our journey. Perhaps Watson will be better now, though I suspect that he has fallen asleep due to his cold and nothing else. He is always sleepy when he has been unwell.
We have almost reached our destination when my friend's snores cease and his breathing begins to hitch. His eyes open briefly and then scrunch closed.
"Watson? Are you quite well?"
He gives a strangled groan by way of response and then pitches forward into the hand that is not still gripping mine with a rather violent "Hashoosh!"
"Oh! Bless you Doctor Watson. Have you had a pleasant sleep?" says John from the driving seat, without so much as moving his head.
"Have I been napping?" the fellow croaks.
I smile and squeeze his hand. "You have been unwell - you need to sleep."
"Where are we?"
"We are almost there now; you have slept for most of the journey."
He sniffs quietly and returns his head to my shoulder. "Thank you - for your patience. And your kindness. For everything."
"It is not difficult for me to put myself in your place my dear fellow," I assure him for what feels like the hundredth time. "I do understand."
He sniffs again and I realise that he is drifting. Perhaps he truly is overcoming this fear. I dearly hope so.
Lestrade helps Watson out of the car when John pulls up outside of the Winters' home. "You OK?"
"Yes thank you. Are you all right?"
The curt response brings an amused smirk to my lips, but the Yarder is clearly somewhat taken aback. "Sorry Watson. I was only... Zed! I didn't mean to upset you."
Having read my Boswell's journals, I would have expected her to be familiar with that temper of his. Well, perhaps I should have reminded her.
"Forgive me. I did not mean to upset you either."
He sounds so regretful that she touches his arm - but wisely refrains from saying anything.
"Beth!" Mrs. Winters has flung open the front door. "Mr. Holmes, Doctor Watson. And John. Well, this is a nice surprise. Come on in out of this horrible weather - it's freezing!"
Inspector Winters' wife fusses over us as much as Mrs. Lestrade would fuss over Watson and I in our own era. I know not whether this is due to being the wife of a Yarder, a mother or whether she and Mrs. Lestrade are simply of the same ilk, but there is something reassuringly Victorian about a devoted wife and I find myself relaxing as we are shown into the sitting room and plied with teas and coffees.
The children are drawn to Briar and make rather a fuss of him, but the dog looks as though he should quite like to run away and hide. Beth goes to him and begins to pet him gently.
"You're scaring him. Try to think how you'd feel if you were sent away from your family and got taken in by someone else."
Freddie immediately starts to cry. "I never meant to be mean, Inspector Lestrade."
"Well no, I know you didn't. But Briar's a rescue - he probably loved his last owner and all this is strange 'n' new. You guys need to be gentle 'n' quiet."
Freddie is still tearful, I perceive. Beth is not as good with children as she is with dogs, it would seem.
I take to the girl's side, put my arm about her and offer her a clean handkerchief. "Now, now Freddie, there is no harm done. Look - Briar is wagging his tail now; he is happy. Come now, dry those tears. That's better."
"Did I really scare him?"
How should I answer such a question? "He has only been with us for a few days and we do not know very much about him; he might not have met any children before - he does look a little nervous."
"Poor boy!" says Mrs. Winters. "Everything must be strange and frightening for him. Let me get him a biscuit - I'm sure that'll make him feel better."
The biscuit is broken into quarters and Briar (much happier now) takes a piece from Lestrade, Mrs. Winters, Paul and Freddie in turn. He then permits the children to take turns petting him with a constantly wagging tail.
Inspector Scott Winters joins us at tea time. He has been resting and does look much better than he did when we brought him home from the hospital. I am truly glad of that, for I had been somewhat fearful for him.
The two inspectors sit together and begin to discuss work. I like that! I have made a special effort this year to refrain from discussing cases and such and to relax (albeit more for Watson's sake than mine) and their behaviour irks me terribly.
"Scott," chides his wife. "You promised me that you'd forget about work until the doctor says you're well enough to go back. Come on! It's Christmas."
Mr. Winters gestures to Miss Lestrade with a thumb. "She started it."
I disguise a chuckle with a cough. "You should both behave yourselves. Drink your tea."
"Bossy boots! Maybe you should butt out. Why is it you always boss us Yardies around - even when we're off duty - anyhow?"
That is unfair! But also somewhat amusing, for I have been called many things before, but never a 'bossy boots'! He has almost caused me to spit my mouthful of tea back into my cup and I swallow with haste. "I am older, wiser and know better, that is why."
"Oh, listen to that!" snorts Beth.
"Yeah," agrees Winters. "I'll go along with the bit about being old, but I'm not so sure about wiser or knowing better."
Freddie takes my side. "Mr. Holmes is really clever Daddy."
I smirk at them and permit the little girl to cuddle me (though I cannot say that I much like that).
"Freddie, you're just no fun kiddo," her father informs her tiredly.
Watson chuckles. "I must say that it is good to see that you feel better Inspector. You had me rather worried when we brought you home."
He snorts. "I'm a tough guy! We Yardies bounce right back - ain't that right Beth?"
"Yeah."
"Piffle!" my Boswell wags his finger at them. "I have yet to meet anyone capable of 'bouncing back' - and I have served in Her Majesty's Army and Scotland Yard; I have heard that claim made before."
Lestrade rolls her eyes and folds her arms.
"And yes; I know that Holmes and I are no better."
"Really Watson!" I glare at him, though I have nothing to say in my defence - I know damned well that he is right.
"Really Holmes," the irksome fellow retorts with a smirk.
We gaze at one another for a moment and then burst into laughter.
"I always said PIs are crazy," says Inspector Winters with a self-satisfied smile.
What the deuce is a PI? And why do I suspect that he is insulting both myself and my biographer? I shall ignore him.
As always, it is the children that intervene before a quarrel can break out amongst those of us that should know better. Freddie proudly shows off her brand new dolls' house and Paul then sets up his new train set - an electric one - and encourages his guests to try it out. Which we gentlemen do (out of politeness). Lestrade declines, however, claiming to be too 'heavy handed'.
Slowly, more presents are brought out: - interactive robotic dolls (Freddie's is an attractive furry thing with large eyes, Paul's is rather like the hideous Carbuncle toy that was a craze in 2103), yo-yos that light up and play music and a miniature electric keytar and drum set are just a few of the things that they were given.
"Can you teach us to play keytar?" asks Paul as he jumps up and down like his yo-yo.
I scratch at the irksome, itchy stubble upon my chin. "I can teach you the basics, I suppose, but I am not very good; my instrument will always be the violin."
"What do they sound like?" asks Freddie.
Beth would appear to have anticipated this, for she has brought my violin with us - without telling me - and it is in the boot of the car. It takes very little persuasion to get me to demonstrate my skills, though I feel somewhat self-conscious.
"That was beautiful," breathes Mrs. Winters when the piece comes to an end. "You really are very talented."
I feel my face turn hot as everybody else agrees, for I am unaccustomed to performing to such a number of people or receiving such high praise.
"Aw, he's gone all shy!" Lestrade chuckles and slips an arm about me.
"Lestrade! I must protest!"
She shrugs. "So protest then."
"You should not tease the poor fellow," Watson tells her with a wag of his finger. "Holmes is not in the habit of performing for an audience and such behaviour will not encourage him to do so again."
"It was so good though!" enthuses Paul. "I never heard a viling before."
"A violin," corrects John. "They are beautiful, are they not? There is something very emotive about a violin."
"That means they can make you feel things," translates Lestrade. "Happy, sad, excited... John's right - a well-played violin can really express a lot o' emotion."
Which is precisely my reason for not making it my habit to perform for those that do not know me; I never intentionally show those that I do not know and trust particularly well my heart and I do not wish to do so unintentionally. But I trust Lestrade, John, Watson and the Winters family more than most, so there is no harm done today.
I am about to suggest calling around at a convenient hour in the next week (as a means of changing the subject) with my keytar, so as to give Paul lessons, when I perceive that his father is beginning to look haggard. The inspector has been quite unwell and we should leave and allow him to rest. It is time to go.
"Did you see our snowman out front?" Freddie asks as Mrs. Winters collects our outdoor clothing from the guest bedroom. "Me 'n' Paul 'n' Mummy made it. It looks super!"
"It was Dad's idea to make it so it was leaning on the wall, looking over it and watching the cars," adds her brother. "It was a clever idea."
"I'll show you!" volunteers the excited little girl.
"You will not Freda," Mrs. Winters tells her firmly as she hurries down the stairs. "It's dark out and it's gonna be frosty tonight - stay indoors."
The child's lower lip begins to tremble so I take both her and her brother to one side.
"Would you do something very important for me?" I ask of them quietly, so that nobody can overhear.
Both children brighten at once and agree with great excitement and enthusiasm.
I give a placating hand gesture as a request for silence and press a finger to my lips for good measure, causing the children to at once become quiet as church mice. I lower my own voice to a conspiratorial whisper.
"Thank you. Now my dears, I want you to listen to your patents and do as you are told without a fuss. I know," I add with another placating hand gesture when they begin to protest. "I know that it must often seem to you that all they want to do is to stop you from enjoying yourselves, but they do have your best interests at heart."
Paul grimaces at me. "How d'you know all that?"
How indeed? My parents showed Mycroft and I very little thought or concern. But the answer is obvious - and the truth - and I chuckle.
"Because John, Watson - and even Lestrade and your father - are the same with me."
The expressions on their faces! So very funny!
"But you're a grown-up!" argues Freddie.
I shrug. "What difference does that make? They care - they cannot help it. And I do not really mind."
"How come?" Paul demands to know, causing me to smile.
"Because I am the same way with them. As you grow older, you will learn that grown-ups are not so very different from children - children are only smaller and require a little more consideration."
"Huh!" mutters Freddie.
"Children are very precious," I explain. "Particularly so to those that love them. Think of something valuable - so valuable that one could not begin to imagine its worth. Can you do that?"
"The Crown Jewels?" asks Paul.
I nod. "All right, the Crown Jewels. To your parents, you are worth more than them and every other jewel in all the world - and so they want you to be safe, well and content. Listen to them."
They agree solemnly and I pat them on the head and take up my hat and cape. "Very well then; go and stay with your father. Keep him warm and safe for me."
"What did you say to them?" asks Watson as we admire the snowman on our way out.
"That is our little secret. Come, we should get out of this cold night air; we are indeed to have a frost."
Lestrade smiles at me. "You're full o' surprises, ain't ya? You sure you never had kids?"
"I did have the Irregulars to contend with," I remind her as Watson and I settle into the back seat while Lestrade and Briar make themselves comfortable in the front passenger seat. "I have found that children co-operate the best when one treats them like adults."
And quite right too - adults are not so terribly different from children, when all is said and done. We simply have responsibilities and one or two appearances to keep up.