Prompt: "Don't open that yet!" from cjnwriter

Within a few short weeks of taking rooms with Sherlock Holmes, I realized that attempting to hide anything from him would be a futile effort. There was little he could not determine from a mere look, and anything that he could not, he soon figured out by use of his formidable deductive ability. In many ways, I came to appreciate this aspect of my friend's character. We soon dispensed with such trivial discussions about our daily activities as Holmes needed only a glance to determine how my day had been spent, on those occasions we did not spend the daytime hours together in the first place. This meant that we were free to engage in more interesting and entertaining topics of conversation. In addition, despite Holmes's sometimes cold exterior, he was better at determining one's mood than any man I have ever met, and while he may have openly disparaged the softer emotions, he could be most sympathetic in his own manner, appearing with his violin and a succession of my favorite pieces after a day spent dealing with difficult patients, or a suggestion of an evening out if I seemed bored.

There were, however, times when Holmes's unique character was a trial to live with, even to me. This was no more evident than each December, when I endeavoured to hide Holmes's Christmas gift until the day arrived. Holmes, of course, declared himself above such trivial matters as celebrating the holiday, and it is true that we usually passed the day quietly, he engaged more often than not in some chemical experiment and I with a novel. But it is equally true that Mrs. Hudson always outdid herself in preparing a magnificent Christmas dinner, usually followed by Holmes playing a succession of Christmas carols on his violin before we finished the evening with a festive glass of port. We also always exchanged Christmas gifts, and his to me were rare tokens of his affection that I treasured.

This Christmas, I had managed to secure us tickets for a highly anticipated performance of Bruch's violin concertos, to be performed on consecutive nights by a virtuoso violinist visiting from Austria. Tickets promised to be difficult to come by, and I considered myself fortunate that I had obtained two for such decent seats. The matter remained, however, of ensuring Holmes did not find them for two entire weeks before Christmas.

I was fortunate that the winter had been mild thus far and I had fewer patients than usual to attend to. This was how I arrived at Baker Street earlier than expected one afternoon to find Holmes looking through our newly arrived post. I had long ago given up on expecting Holmes not to look through my correspondence in addition to his own; he was correct that one of his many enemies in the criminal class might attempt to do us harm through it, and he would never be so ungentlemanlike as to actually open anything private. He performed a valuable service in that he discarded useless advertisements and such, leaving me with only what I needed. But that day, I gasped aloud and hurried across the room as I saw him about to open a large, handsome envelope with the return address of the Royal Albert Hall. "Holmes, do not open that yet!" I cried, realizing immediately that the tickets had arrived.

"Whyever not, Watson?" Holmes asked. "Have you acquired some enemy among the chamber orchestras I do not know about?"

It was utterly typical that his mind should immediately assume I knew about some assailant he did not. "Not at all," I said. "It is just that this is private."

Holmes's keen grey eyes fixed themselves upon me, and I remembered too late how utterly useless it was to attempt to keep anything from him. I had every expectation that he would treat this little mystery exactly as he would a murder, and turn the full force of his powers upon it. "That is my Christmas gift, is it not, Watson?"

Holmes maintains that I have no gift for dissimulation, and he is largely correct, though this has not prevented him from depending on my small ability as an actor to play several different parts in the course of an investigation. Perhaps he had more faith in my powers of deception than I that I could fool a criminal we were trying to trap. I, however, knew beyond any doubt that any ability I had was not up to fooling Holmes. "No," I said, though I could feel a flush creeping up my neck and knew that he would not be swayed by such a lackluster performance. "Not at all."

"Come, Watson, it is hardly a difficult deduction," Holmes said. "It is two weeks prior to Christmas and you have never made any fuss about my opening your post before. It can only be that there is something in that letter you do not wish me to see. You are not in the habit of receiving letters from anyone associated with the Royal Albert Hall and the timing of this letter suggests that it can only be your Christmas gift to me."

I was strongly reminded of the number of criminals who had lost hope when faced with his triumphant gaze and a string of logical deductions. Perhaps I am made of stronger stuff than they are, or perhaps it is merely because I have seen Holmes when he first awakes in a poor mood before breakfast, but I was not quailed by it. "I shall not tell you," I said.

"You do not need to, Watson, for your refusal tells me I am correct," Holmes said, bringing his fingertips together in front of him. "It is only a matter of seeing what is on at the Royal Albert Hall to determine what it is you have got us tickets for."

"Perhaps, Holmes, I have got tickets for someone else," I said.

"None of your friends at the club are connoisseurs of music," Holmes said, dismissing immediately the idea that one could go to a concert without being a connoisseur. He did, however, happen to be correct. He was the only one I ever attended concerts with. Perhaps if I truly wanted to fool him I should have made sure to invite Stamford to a concert or two so that it would appear more probable that I might purchase concert tickets for someone else.

"Perhaps I shall introduce them," I said. "You cannot be sure that I am not doing exactly that."

"No," Holmes said. "It is not impossible and therefore I cannot eliminate it. Still, I have the schedule of performances for the season here and that should give me a clue as to what you may have purchased."

Blast it, for he knew my musical tastes well enough to guess what I would be likely to purchase, and if he saw Bruch on the schedule he would know immediately what I was going to give him. There was only one thing for it. I hurried over and snatched the program from his hands. "I am not telling you, and that is final, Holmes!" I felt rather like the parent of a particularly recalcitrant three-year-old.

Holmes merely laughed aloud as I went upstairs to hide both the tickets and the program schedule somewhere safe. "You have given me a pretty problem to work on, Watson, in the absence of any real crime!"

I did not know whether to be grateful for that, knowing what Holmes was like when he did not have a case, or worried that it would prove impossible for my gift to remain a surprise.

I remained on constant vigilance for the next two weeks. Holmes was too gentlemanly to search my room when I was not there, and in any case I thought he would view it as too easy to simply search for the envelope, so I was certain the tickets were safe where I had hidden them in the pocket of a summer jacket. I had learned a thing or two from Holmes, namely, that hiding places should be places where it would be otherwise natural to put things, not unusual places set aside specifically for hiding things. I had only to remember they were there, or else I was liable to forget about the tickets until next summer when I looked to wear the jacket.

Holmes had taken to scouring the newspapers for any hint of future performances at the Royal Albert Hall, something I had not considered as he ordinarily read only the criminal news and the agony column. I responded by ensuring that I woke up early each day, before five o'clock, to intercept the paper boy as he delivered The Times so I could remove the section on the arts before Holmes got to it. On the third day of this, I was caught by Mrs. Hudson as she woke to begin breakfast. "Dr. Watson, whatever are you doing?" she asked, startled.

"Ensuring Holmes does not get the newspaper first," I said, taking the newspaper from the boy and giving him a shilling for his trouble. Mrs. Hudson looked at me as if worried for my well-being, and I sighed. "This is what I must go through to ensure Holmes's Christmas gift remains a secret until the day," I said.

"Oh, well that explains it," our estimable landlady answered, as if this were a perfectly ordinary thing to have to do. "I wish you luck, Doctor."

"I am sure I shall need it," I answered. "Would you mind terrible throwing this in the fire?" I added, handing her the arts section. "I would not put it past him to fish it out of the trash and piece it back together if I merely ripped it up."

"Not at all, Doctor," she said. "I'll make sure to keep an eye out for the paper myself, so you might sleep a little."

"Mrs. Hudson, you are a saint," I said. There was no better landlady in all London, I was certain.

By three days before Christmas, I had taken to carrying the tickets around with me, and was feeling rather as if I was holding back a bloodhound on the scent. If only some client would arrive with a problem for Holmes to solve! At the end of my patience, I sent a telegram to Inspector Lestrade, asking if he had any cases he would like to consult Holmes on. I was rewarded by the appearance of the little inspector later that evening, though disappointed that he carried news of no crime. Instead, he spent the evening with us, telling Holmes of the crimes the Yard had managed to solve without his help. This was a frequent game among us, for Holmes would invariably attempt to guess the solution based on the facts Lestrade gave him, claiming it kept his mind sharp. I was merely glad to have him distracted for an evening, and thanked Lestrade profusely when he left. "I have been trying to hide his Christmas gift," I explained, "and he insists on treating it as a case he must solve urgently."

Lestrade laughed aloud. "Good luck to you, Doctor. No wonder you look so exhausted!"

"It is no matter," I said. "Tomorrow is Christmas and he shall have his present."

I had every intention of enjoying my Christmas, and so I simply put the envelope down at his table setting in the morning, knowing that I should not have a moment's peace all day if I had to keep on hiding it. Holmes arrived for breakfast soon afterwards, smiling when he saw the familiar envelope. "Ah, Watson, I knew you were attempting to hide my Christmas gift these last few weeks. Do not think I did not figure out where the arts section of the newspaper went each day."

I watched as he opened the envelope, gratified when I saw his eyes light up in anticipation. "Why, Watson, this will be an historic performance! You do know that this is the violinist whose interpretation of Bach was called revolutionary? I can hardly wait to hear how he plays Bruch." He looked up at me. "These cannot have been easy to get at all."

"Well, they weren't, but that was child's play compared to keeping them hidden from you for the past two weeks!" I said. "I believe I now have a good idea what it is to be a criminal you are chasing. I would not wish it on my worst enemy."

Holmes laughed aloud. "Ah, Watson, you know I cannot rest if there is a problem to be solved. But I do appreciate the effort, my dear fellow. Thank you very much, my dear Watson, and now you may tell all your readers you have succeeded in fooling Sherlock Holmes where all others have failed."

I could not help but burst into laughter at the idea, in which Holmes soon joined me before we tucked in to Mrs. Hudson's delicious Christmas breakfast spread.