Disclaimer: As mandatory with these things, I have to say upfront I do not own Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows, the characters therein nor the places or plot events spoken of. That all belongs to Guy Ritchie, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, their benefactors, etc. etc.
A/N: How about that, two updates within a week of each other? It's like I've gotten back the writing groove I used to have…kind of. Real life/being an adult/having been forced to take a fiction writing course the semester prior to graduation and your beginning real life as an adult now really does take up a lot of energy and time. But yay, inspiration! Just an extra disclaimer: "Auld Lang Syne" was originally a poem written by Robert Burns and set to a traditional Scottish folk song. Wikipedia it, it's there. Granted, I only use the title of it for this drabble, but let's be honest, I was humming it while writing. You're probably humming it/thinking about it right now as well.
Also, this drabble contains OCs as previously featured in Blood Bond and His Home (premiere of Victoria, whee!), so if you're not into OCs, well, then I'm sorry. Just replace Madeline with Irene and Victoria with Mary if you would rather have that imagery and those characters. Your choice. And there is gratuitous fluff involved. In any case, it shouldn't be too long until I update again (but I know better than to make concrete promises on update times nowadays). Thanks and enjoy!
Prompt: New Year's Eve/Day.
The clock on the mantel, obscured by numerous papers and accouterments begins to chime the hour. As it does so, the ladies seated in the comfy armchairs cast their gazes about the room with amusement.
Mr. Holmes, choosing to actually participate in the festivities this year, is collapsed on the floor, the head of his tiger rug acting as his pillow. After caving to his children's demands to be allowed to stay up until midnight, he is exhausted from alternately entertaining them and from sneakily tippling brandy while they were busy. He has reenacted his major exploits of the past for them, playing the multiple roles of "Deducing Detective", "Grand Villain Supreme", and "Damsel-Hardly-In-Distress-At-All" (Madeline snickers at the subtle jab to Irene Adler, who is quite unable to defend herself). Sherlock has used the entirety of the rooms as his stage, and now he is grounded, vigor expelled and drink going to his head.
Dr. John Watson is no better shape than he, frankly. Having shared in the covert drinking, he unwillingly participated in the plays as well, his roles being "Bumbling Doctor" and "Reciter of the Clues" (he manages to get his own back when he twists the plots to reveal the Detective having been taking on by giants and being thrown across buildings, with him playing the giants, of course). His son, being a few years older than the Holmes children, recruits himself to play the "Inept Henchman", with him being tossed about and landing atop cushions and pillows to protect him from injury. But John's weary leg and intoxication force him to rest, his chosen pillow being one of Sherlock's shins. He makes a honking noise, giggling madly, as William curls up next to him.
All three children—Anthony, Isabel, and William—have long ago knocked out, despite their wishes to stay up late with the adults. The twins nestle into their father's arms, Tony's head on Sherlock's stomach and Isabel's ear pressed against her papa's heart.
The lady of the rooms, Madeline Holmes, rests her hand on the curvy of her belly, grinning at the sight and the indulgences her husband has allowed for their children. She can only imagine how he would welcome their third child, due within the next month or so. She and Victoria, Watson's second wife and similarly heavy with child, share a knowing glance at the chiming clock and raise their mugs of hot cocoa in a toast to one another.
There is much to look forward to, in the days to come. The year has passed, and another dawns. So much has changed, and yet, some things remain the same. But it would hardly do to wax philosophical this early in the morning. Rather, the women clink their glasses and smile.
"Happy New Year's Day, Mrs. Holmes."
"And the same to you, Missus Doctor Watson." They chuckle lightly, silently deciding to finish their drinks before rousing their families to greet the New Year.
A/N 2: I'm uploading now for the sake of having it be up on time, or somewhere near that. As I am over the legal age in the United States, I will definitely be imbibing and out on New Year's Eve, and won't be in remotely the right frame of mind to upload on New Year's Day. So yay for you guys! Have a SAFE and FUN New Year's!
