From Domina Temporis: Write something funny involving a turkey, an official occasion, a misbehaving dog, and Scotland Yard

Not sure if this is funny or merely cute, but I hope you enjoy :)

"Everything smells amazing, Lestrade. Who did the cooking?"

"Not me," the inspector answered with a chuckle. "We had everything here catered from a local restaurant."

We were setting up for the Yard's Christmas party. Food filled the table, more than enough to feed the crowd milling through the other end of the room, and I was helping with the final touches before everyone could eat.

I grinned, moving a dish to its place on the table. "That would be easier than dividing the cooking among houses."

"Liz and Gregson's wife led the petition," he answered. "They knew who would end up doing the work."

"I cannot blame them," I replied, scanning the table in search of something else that needed doing. "I frequently help Mrs. Hudson prepare Christmas dinner, and every year I am amazed at how much work goes into it."

"Is Mr. Holmes going to be here this year?"

I glanced up from setting out a serving spoon. "Eventually, I think. You know how little he cares about parties and gatherings."

Lestrade's huff of laughter was nearly a snort. "Regular Scrooge, he is. I don't know how you put up with him, Doctor."

I merely smiled, remembering the revenge I had pulled last year after he tried to make the Christmas party end early. "I have my ways, and he has some Christmas spirit—when it suits him."

"Didn't you say he decorated the sitting room for you once?"

My smile widened at the memory. That had been our third Christmas sharing rooms, and my injuries had prevented me from doing much of anything that year.

"He did," I affirmed, "and he got the Irregulars to help by telling them that they were 'helping Father Christmas.' I woke up to find that the season had come alive around me."

Lestrade shook his head at the imagery. "He's a strange one. He doesn't go out of his way to dislike the other holidays. It's almost like he ties this holiday to something unpleasant."

I froze, considering the possibility. I knew almost nothing about his past, his childhood, but what little I did know suddenly came together to form a heartbreaking picture. Could it be—?

"Perhaps." It would not do to discuss this with Lestrade. "Is there anything else you need me to do?"

He shook his head. "Go ahead and let everyone start the line. I will have this finished in a moment, and we can eat."

"The others will be glad to hear that." Lestrade's chuckle barely carried as I moved away to ring the bell the Yard used to signal the start of a meal.

The crowd moved toward me, and I hurried ahead, claiming a spot in line behind Lestrade. Those who helped set up the meal always went through the line first, and that was one benefit I would not forfeit. The best dishes were invariably gone by the time the end of the line reached the tables.

Conversation flowed around me, each small group continuing what they had been discussing as plate after plate filled with holiday treats. The Scotland Yard Christmas party always had a hearty meal, but this was the largest I had seen by far. Every conceivable main course, side dish, and dessert lay somewhere on the long table. There would be plenty left over to take both to anyone who could not make it to the party and to the less fortunate.

"There you are, Watson."

I glanced up as Holmes appeared at my side, his plate less than full but far from empty as he evidently skipped portions of the table to catch up to where I stood.

"I see you finally decided to show up, just in time to skip the line."

He smirked at me, snacking from his plate even as he dished a spoonful of a casserole. "Of course. Their caterer is famous for their desserts."

"So that is why you carefully blocked off half your plate."

He made no answer, but his smirk still twitched his mouth as he moved down the line toward the as-yet untouched dessert table. I picked up my pace. Holmes had enough of a sweet tooth to easily clean out the desserts before anyone else got one.

"Holmes."

He froze, guiltily looking up from cutting a fourth piece of cake. The half he had blocked off already had a pudding and three other cakes blending into each other. The fourth would have had to stack on top.

I scowled at him, and he put the cake cutter down with a sigh.

"Come back after the line is done."

"It will be gone by then!" he protested, but I refused to back down.

"Then you should have gotten that one instead of one of the others on your plate. We have discussed this, Holmes. Do not hoard the desserts."

He scowled at me but made no reply, and I filled the remaining spot on my plate with a slice of pie and moved toward a nearby table, Holmes barely a step behind me.

"Sit down, Holmes," I said when he hovered, watching the line moving down the tables. "By the time you finish, you might be able to go for more dessert."

He sat heavily in a chair, torn between scowling at me for thwarting him and studying the slowly diminishing dessert table, and I covered a smirk. Some meals could be a veritable battle just to get him to eat, while others saw him clean a plate and go back for thirds. I had long known my friend was a study in extremes.

He finally started eating, however, and I turned to my own food. We would have to try this restaurant sometime. If their normal dishes were as good as what they catered, the meal would be well worth the distance from the flat.

"How long are you staying?" he finally asked several minutes later, when only a few bites remained on my plate.

I shrugged. "Probably a couple of hours."

Holmes glanced away, covering a frown. He had promised to stay as long as I did once he arrived, something he probably regretted. I had never understood what he so disliked about a yearly Christmas party.

"You remembered your gift for the exchange later?" I asked.

The frown faded as he nodded, and I eyed him across the table. He was planning something.

"I see you finally made it, Mr. Holmes," Lestrade's voice said before I could form the question. "Did you raid the dessert table yet?"

"I intervened," I answered, glancing at where Lestrade stood behind me as Holmes scowled. "He only got three pieces of cake and some pudding this time."

Lestrade smirked at my tone. "The others appreciate it, I'm sure."

Holmes opened his mouth to reply, but a commotion from the other side of the room drew Lestrade away.

"What are you planning?"

He pretended to study the crowd. "I have no idea what you mean."

"Holmes."

He waved me off, standing to tour the room, and I put my plate away with a sigh. I would just have to watch him. I hoped he was not trying to make the party end early again.

People slowly migrated away from the tables toward the stack of gifts in the corner, knowing that the gift exchange was next, and I followed. I had contributed a penny dreadful and a copy of a recently released novel, and I wondered which package I would receive. We never drew names, everyone content to bring something vague, and each package was only labelled well enough to make sure someone did not open their own.

I glanced over the pile, trying to decide which was Holmes'. He had not wrapped his in front of me, but I thought I might be able to pick it out anyway.

Yip!

I spun around, searching for the source of the sound. Holmes better not have—

I saw nothing amiss. People mingled here and there. The last stranglers finished their plates. Holmes watched everything from his place in one corner.

I turned back to surveying the packages. Could it be that strangely small one?

Yip!

I looked over just in time to catch Holmes shush his pocket, and I hurried across the room.

"Holmes."

He did not quite smother a start, apparently not hearing me come up behind him, and the feigned innocence in his gaze when he glanced up only irritated me more.

"What are you planning?" I nearly growled.

He hesitated for a moment, then sighed, waving me out of easy sight of the rest of crowd before opening his jacket pocket.

A small head quickly poked out to look at me, tongue wagging in doggy joy.

"Yip!"

He shushed it. "Gregson is giving it to his wife tonight," he said, "but the mischievous little…" he trailed off, obviously choosing a different word, "dog refuses to stay quiet or still. He asked me to help with the surprise, and it gives me an excuse to stay away from the crowd."

I chuckled. The tiny dog could not be more than a few weeks old, to fit in Holmes' pocket so easily, and I wiggled my fingers for it to chase.

"Be sure you take it outside every hour or so," I told him. "Puppies take a while to house train."

He eyed the little dog. "You could take it."

I shook my head, hiding a grin. "Its—his," I corrected with a glance, "care was entrusted to you, and I doubt you will have to wait long. Just make sure you note if he starts trying to get out of your pocket. Here." I handed him a piece of string I had in my jacket. "You can use this as a leash if needed."

He took it, uncertainty showing in his gaze as he realized what might happen, but I would not rescue him. The image of the tiny puppy playing in Holmes' pocket was far too amusing to end. He resumed his place next to the wall as I moved back toward the gift table.

"Alright, everyone!" Conversation slowly quieted, everyone turning to face where Lestrade, as this year's organizer, stood in front of the gift pile. "Form two lines. Gregson, you said you would help with this."

Gregson made his way to the front, and the rest of us moved into place, Holmes and I taking the back of the line. A simpler way to distribute the gifts than passing them out one at a time, especially since none were addressed, Lestrade and Gregson gave each gift to the front of the line, who passed them back until everyone had one.

"Yip!"

Holmes tried to hide behind me, and I covered a smirk as I passed a gift to him and fingered the one in my hand.

With a pause to ensure no one had received their own, the lines broke up as everyone moved to open their gift, and exclamations filled the room.

"Ha! I needed a new pipe!"

"Oh, that is lovely."

"My son will love this book."

The paper in my hand peeled away from a long, narrow rectangle, and I opened the box to find a pouch of the tobacco Holmes favored.

"Watson."

I glanced up, my laughter escaping when Holmes showed me a new fountain pen.

"Trade?" he asked, smothering his own amusement.

I nodded, pocketing the pen and handing him the tobacco. "When are you helping Gregson?" I asked quietly.

"He said he would find me after the gift exchange."

"Yip! Grr!"

Ducking my head to hide my laugh, I led Holmes toward one of the tables. Perhaps the dog would calm if we moved away from the crowd.

Holmes detoured past the food, putting a piece of pie on one of the dessert plates as I took a seat, and a head poked out of his pocket, sniffing.

"Holmes!"

My warning came too late, and I lunged out of my seat. Holmes barely had the chance to cushion the dog's fall with his leg before the puppy hit the floor running, and the little dog ran straight for a chair someone had left beside the main tables, reaching the food in two quick jumps and amazing me that such a little dog could jump so high.

Holmes' pie landed roughly on the dessert table, and he reached the dog a step ahead of me, lifting it away from the turkey plate.

"Bad dog!"

The dog made no answer, refusing to release the piece of turkey he had stolen before Holmes reached him, and I tried not to laugh.

"Since when do you have a dog?"

I turned around to find Liz Lestrade standing behind me, a smile spitting her face at the picture Holmes made with a puppy grasped in one hand.

"We don't," I answered, unable to hide my own grin. "Holmes was holding it for someone, though I do not see him holding it for much longer."

Gregson hurried forward on the heels of my words, taking the completely unrepentant little pup from Holmes' hand. The dog went without protest, still gnawing on the piece of meat it had stolen, and Gregson moved back through the crowd.

"Stanley! You mean to say the dog is mine?!"

I glanced over to find embarrassment and surprise mixing on Mrs. Gregson's face as her husband carefully handed her the dog. She gingerly held him close, surrendering her finger to be licked when the dog finished eating the meat.

"He is adorable!"

"Well, she seems to like it, anyway." Holmes walked up behind me, an empty plate in his hand showing signs of two different desserts. "Shall we?"

I huffed. "I suppose you emptied the dessert table?"

He shrugged off the question. "There was very little remaining. We stayed for the gift exchange. Can we leave now?"

I glanced back at the crowd, most of which was currently gathered around the puppy. Lestrade had mentioned some party games for later, but the little dog seemed to have become the party game.

There was no use staying longer, and I nodded. He gave an exaggerated sigh of relief, quickly leading me towards the door lest I change my mind.

"What do you say we get a puppy?"

His growled answer barely carried back to my ears, and I merely grinned, no more repentant than the pup.

Thank you very much to those that reviewed the last chapter, and I do hope this one was as fun to read as it was to write :)