Prompt: Christmas dinner at 221b, from PowerOfPens
A/N: A very Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to everyone!
Christmas Day was always a quiet, peaceful day for myself and my fellow lodger, Sherlock Holmes. Neither of us had much interest in going out and making merry, or indeed, received many invitations to do so. Such friends as I had all had their own families with whom they celebrated the holiday, and Holmes had, by his own admission, no friends other than myself. Though this last was not entirely true, as we could usually expect Inspector Lestrade to stop by on Christmas evening for a late brandy.
But our own holiday was quiet, and after a late morning, Holmes and I sat down to Mrs. Hudson's magnificent Christmas feast. I had often remarked that she prepared Christmas dinner as if she were entertaining a particularly large family instead of just Holmes and myself, but as it was always delicious we certainly never said anything to dissuade her. "I do think Mrs. Hudson has outdone herself," I remarked to Holmes.
"Yes, indeed," Holmes said, though he rarely noticed anything he was served for dinner. Perhaps the mere fact that he was eating this particular meal without complaint was compliment enough. "I expect there will be dessert as well," he added.
I could not help but laugh a little. "You sound hopeful," I said. Few people other than myself were aware that Holmes had a monstrously strong sweet tooth, though he rarely allowed himself to indulge it as he would have liked.
"I have rarely had as good a Christmas pudding as the one our esteemed landlady makes," Holmes said. "And her raspberry tarts are justly famous."
Mrs. Hudson had been all but buried in raspberry tarts for the entire month of December, making batches for the Irregulars, our neighbors, the Yarders and Holmes and I. Yet somehow I expected I would see a plate of them appear tonight alongside the Christmas pudding. Mrs. Hudson knew they were my friend's favorite, and it was ordinarily a trial to get him to eat regularly.
"Did I hear someone say raspberry tarts?"
I looked down toward my feet in response to the high-pitched, squeaky voice. "Why, Basil! I thought it was you." I leaned down so our second resident consulting detective and his friend could climb upon my hand, and then set them down on the table.
"If anyone should notice me sharing table space with two mice," Holmes muttered to himself.
Basil, however, grinned. "They would think little of it, Mr. Holmes! In fact, I doubt they should even notice. Do I not always say, Dawson, that ordinary men see but do not observe."
"I am the one who says that!" Holmes said indignantly, as I hid my laugh with a cough.
"Well, then, you certainly know it is true," Basil said. "Just as so few believe what they see, despite the evidence of their own eyes! I doubt anyone would believe it even if they did observe us, am I right, Dawson?"
"Quite right, Basil," Dawson said, before giving me a shyly hopeful look. "So, er, are there going to be raspberry tarts?"
"Yes, I expect so," I said. "Christmas pudding as well. But until then, please, join us for dinner. We would be honored."
"We would?" Holmes mouthed at me. I made a shushing motion at him; the two little mice were obviously enjoying the holiday as well. They had both put on better finery than they usually wore, Dawson in a blue suit with a nice waistcoat and Basil in a fine black one, the match for any two London gentlemen save for their size. It was quite striking; like Holmes, Basil rarely appeared in anything other than his dressing gown or else his traveling cloak, and I had not seen him before in so celebratory an outfit.
"Why, thank you, Doctor," Basil said, seating himself and Dawson in front of my bread dish, on which I put some small cuts of goose and one of Mrs. Hudson's excellent potatoes.
"This is most delicious, Dr. Watson!" Dawson said, now chewing on an entire pea that was about the size of his head.
"Yes, I daresay your landlady could teach ours a thing or two," Basil added.
"She has gone to visit her sister," Dawson informed us. "And left us to our own devices for Christmas."
"I understand," Holmes said. "Whenever Mrs. Hudson abandons us we do a great deal of eating out, do we not, Watson?"
"Well, I would hardly call it abandoning us to visit her family, Holmes!" I said.
"Well, I do," Basil said grumpily. "Though it has been to our benefit on this occasion, you are quite right, Dawson."
"Oh, I quite forgot some wine for you. Do forgive me," I said. I found a few spare thimbles in my doctor's bag and managed to pour from our wine bottle, which now seemed giant in size, only with difficulty.
"Quite alright, Doctor," Basil said, taking his thimble gracefully. "Might I say a toast to a Merry Christmas?"
"And a Happy New Year!" Dawson added gaily.
"Indeed," I said. "I do hope so."
"Ah, and there are our raspberry tarts, I believe," Holmes said as Mrs. Hudson entered the room with two trays. Both Basil and Dawson looked up with interest, their tiny noses sniffing the air. Mrs. Hudson settled the trays upon the table, where one was indeed her famous raspberry tart. The other was the expected Christmas pudding.
"Thank you, my good lady!" Basil said, leaping up and sweeping a dramatic bow. Mrs. Hudson, long used to our little fellow lodgers, looked pleased with his reaction and gave Holmes a pointed look as she left.
"Ah, she will expect me to give as good a show the next time she makes her raspberry tarts," he said.
"You are making him look bad," I whispered to Basil.
"Ha! It is a capital mistake to make an enemy of your landlady," Basil said. "I would have thought you knew that, Mr. Holmes."
"I most certainly do," Holmes retorted. "My last landlady and I got on dreadfully badly."
"Well, Basil, you do have to wonder why Mrs. Judson continues to tolerate you," Dawson began. He stopped, however, when Basil took an entire raspberry tart and set it down in front of them. I, meanwhile, turned my attention to Mrs. Hudson Christmas pudding. Soon, we were all silent as we enjoyed our selection of desserts. I was rather impressed when Basil and Dawson managed to finish off an entire raspberry tart between them; Mrs. Hudson did not make small desserts. Holmes, perhaps in an attempt to outdo them, had two, which would no doubt please Mrs. Hudson greatly.
"Now that we have finished with Christmas dinner, I have a request," Basil said. He pulled out his violin, which I only noticed he had with him for the first time now, and said, "Would you play a duet with me, Mr. Holmes?"
"Do you mean to tell me you can play the violin?" Holmes asked incredulously.
"Oh, yes!" Dawson said. "Very well, too, don't you, Basil?"
Holmes picked himself up and found his Stradivarius on the settee. "Well, we shall see who is the better."
"Holmes, he said a duet, not a competition," I said.
"Yes, of course." Holmes set his bow to the strings and asked of Basil, "Do you know Brahms?"
"Certainly," Basil said, lifting his tiny violin to his chin. "On three."
It was certainly the most unusual concert I have ever attended. The size of Basil's violin meant that its sound was impossibly high, yet it was perfectly tuned and melded with the deeper voice of Holmes's Stradivarius as if it was meant to. Dawson sat at the edge of the table next to my armchair, his eyes closed in enjoyment and his feet swinging in time to the music. When they were finished, I applauded loudly. "Wonderful!" I said. "Really, very well done."
"Thank you, Doctor," Basil said, taking a short bow. "Have you any requests?"
"Well, it is Christmas," Dawson began.
"Yes, it is. Excellent observation, my dear fellow," Basil said.
Dawson shot his friend a dark look, one that reminded me so much of the look I had often given Holmes that I had to laugh. "I believe he was about to ask for a Christmas carol or two," I said.
"Yes, exactly," Dawson said.
"Very well," Basil said. "Come, Mr. Holmes, on three." My friend looks quite perturbed to find himself quite literally playing second fiddle to a mouse, but when they began the first strains of Silent Night, they once again melded their instruments perfectly. What a joy is well-played music!
Though it really was no less enjoyable to watch Holmes take directions from a mouse. I could only wonder what Lestrade would have to say if he came by!