A/N: Happy new year, one and all!

From V Tsuion: Someone participates in a custom that isn't their own for someone else

It was Mrs Hudson's idea, or so Doctor Watson insisted whenever asked, but Mr Holmes maintained that it was the Doctor's romantic sensibilities that had led to the observance of this particular tradition. Both Watson and Hudson had Scottish blood, so it was bound to be one of them, and Lestrade's personal theory was that they had conspired.

He was glad to have been asked along for New Year's Eve at Baker Street, although he had expected to be inside 221B rather than standing on Baker Street itself, watching his breath form white wisps in the chilly December air. Several of Mr Holmes's so-called "Irregulars" had also been invited to see the first footing, and milled around eating Mrs Hudson's fresh-baked mince pies.

"Right so you have everything Holmes?" Doctor Watson handed across the items as he listed them. "Coal, shortbread, salt..."

"I don't see why it has to be me," Holmes grumbled as his arms filled. "Lestrade has dark hair!"

"But I don't live here Mr Holmes," Lestrade interjected quickly. "Wouldn't that be bad luck?"

"And more to the point, you agreed to it Holmes," Watson added. "Now Mrs Hudson, have you the bun?"

"Here it is!" Mrs Hudson handed a black bun across across to Holmes, along with a glass of amber liquid. "And the dram of whisky."

"A dram?!" Holmes exclaimed, holding it up to the level of his eyes. "Why, the glass is nearly full!"

Mrs Hudson's eyes twinkled mischievously. "Well it is New Year's Eve, Mr Holmes."

And as she spoke, Big Ben began to chime across London.

"That's it, that's it! Happy new year everyone!" Watson exclaimed, and a ragged cheer went up from the rest of the crowd. "Holmes, get in there quick man! Before we all catch our death!"

With a long-suffering sigh, Holmes stomped in the door of 221B and went inside, eliciting another cheer from the rest.

"In you go everyone!" Mrs Hudson called and, as everyone rushed in to what promised to be a warm night of revelry, the window to the upstairs living room was thrown open and the opening strain of Auld Lang Syne piped out from Mr Holmes's violin. Lestrade smiled to himself, for it seemed that Mr Holmes was not quite so opposed to this Scottish new year as he had made out.