December 26

From PowerOfPens: Watson doesn't want to take down decorations.

"Just a few more days, Holmes. I'm still enjoying the festive atmosphere that brightens up the grey London winter."

Holmes gave his acquiescence with a fond smile. "A couple more days then, doctor. It is after the New Year though. I doubt Mrs Hudson will allow our festive frippery for much longer. The needles of this evergreen are less green each moment." Holmes raised an eyebrow, "And, more often found on the floor than the branch." He observed another cluster of needles slowly drift to the floor.

~o~

Doctor Watson, it's time to discard this wilting evergreen." Mrs Hudson frowned at the browning branches on last year's tree. "I enjoy holiday decorations as much as anyone. But, this tree has fulfilled its destiny. It is time to clean up the flat. It's nearing February."

Watson looked up at Mrs Hudson and nodded. He made no effort to remove the desiccated tree and pack away the other decorations. Mrs Hudson turned away with a huff and went off to finish her baking downstairs.

~o~

A few days later, Holmes, Watson, and Inspector Lestrade were sharing a drink before the fire. The evening was quiet.

"Are you conducting another of your experiments for the sake of science, Holmes?" Inspector Lestrade indicated the barren pine, forlornly drooping into a puddle of dried needles in the corner.

"No, not this time. The honour is Watson's I suppose. For some reason, he insists on keeping last year's decorations.

Watson took a sip of brandy. He chose to ignore the implications. "A satisfactory drink, I must say," he closed his eyes, soaking in the warmth.

The men continued to sit companionably. For a while, no one spoke. At last, Watson cleared his throat.

"I suppose I owe you an explanation for my reluctance to demolish last year's festive decorations."

He paused.

"I blame my romantic fantasies. It's silly, actually. I mean, I know it's only my imagination. It's the light playing tricks… the reflections off the tinsel and star… but, when I sit and stare at night at the tree, I see fairies dancing among the branches. Well, shadows that look like messengers from the other side of the world." His voiced trailed off. "I know, it's only an illusion."

The room was quiet.

"I believe dear Mrs Hudson could be convinced to allow the star to shimmer a bit longer in the corner." Holmes murmured. With a wry smile, he added, "It may behoove us to clean up the remnants of these branches by feeding them to our flickering flames burning low before us now."

"Agreed," Watson rose from his chair. Lestrade and Holmes joined him. Together they fed the fire and cleaned up the decorations.

They sat back down to enjoy the renewed warmth. "Beautiful," the Inspector gave his approval of the star topper that remained in the corner, reflecting the flickering light of the fire into a million fantastical fractals.