Hi everyone and welcome to the last chapter of this fanfic. I'm so sad that it's over! Maybe I write a sequel one day, time will tell. Thank you so much kind guest for your comment again! And of course, I hope everyone will like this final chapter:) Have fun!

Something irreplaceable

On the first day of Christmas, they didn't show up for breakfast...or it was because I was awake an hour early. Molly doesn't usually let someone messing into her routine, but when she caught me all alone in the kitchen, where I wished her Merry Christmas, she seemed to feel sorry for me. Or maybe it was just the brand-new Jamie Oliver pan I got for her.

Immediately after that, I sat down in the asbo after scraping a small amount of snow from the window and drove to my parents. I think if would have been born into a white family if my mum would had resented me for showing up a day early, after all, she had enough people to feed. But since I was her son, she welcomed me quite happily, just as anyone would welcome a kitchen help before an upcoming holiday in an extended family. And if there's one thing, we couldn't afford to run out its food.

And so, I sweated for hours with Mum in the kitchen. You understand: As if it wasn't enough to have a Christmas meal for a big family, it is tradition in Sierra Leone to give food to friends, so my mum cooked not only to take care of her guests, but also to give food to aunts and uncles and also for half the neighbourhood. At first it seems like a nice custom to give food to your friends and to be given, but in reality, it is a big competition for who arranges the food the best and of course had the best cooking skills – and my mum had a crown to defend.

As it was slowly getting darker outside and I had just made peace with giving up my police career because I was going to die in my parents' small kitchen, the first guests came and took me off work. Mum quickly changed to get out of her sweaty clothes, and I wish I'd thought of more changing clothes, but luckily, I was able to steal some from a cardboard box. She greeted the newcomers with her most beautiful headscarf, which my dad had given her once for their wedding day.

Over the course of the evening, more and more guests arrived, armed with gifts that they were able to contribute to the never-ending buffet. My mum had regular visits, at least when I was still living with my parents, but – except for weddings and funerals – the family only comes together at Christmas. Of course, not the whole one. Many of my relatives and cousins have emigrated to other countries or are still living in Freetown, my mother's home.

Still, it's easy to imagine that a lot of people didn't fit into my parents' apartment sooner or later. Some social blocks have one of those awful communal spaces on every floor because some architects seriously believe that Londoners would like to host board game nights with their neighbours there. Peckwater Estate had failed in all other architectural categories, but at least not so spatial, which turned out to be a disadvantage only at Christmas. But for some years now, sooner or later, the celebratory community has retreated to the lowest hallway, where there have recently been some seating and table tennis tables. For most of the neighbours, this is not a problem, as most of them join or are out of town anyway.

My dad is no longer the youngest, and his former addiction to cigarettes and heroin had left its mark on him, but this year he played music, and if he does, I understand when Mum says he doesn't seem to be a day older to her than he did in the year they met. In general, you can be sure that a party with so many people always have the best music.

As someone who's always had legostealing younger cousins you're stuck faster than you like as some kind of childminder. This used to be a problem, especially when I was too young to drink beer with the other teenagers outside, but over the years I have learned to deal with a large crowd of children or to look for the distance when an aunt approached me. But this year it wasn't that hard, you just have to park them at the table with the dessert and disappear quietly while they stuffed themselves with rice cakes and biscuits.

Later I found Abigail among them and was able to give her her present, a brand new, surprisingly expensive notebook, which made her very happy, and then I tried not to look too much as she encouraged the other children to follow her outside.

Since last night it had snowed occasionally, but it really wasn't much, just a few centimetres. Nevertheless, when I was able to sneak up on the balcony with a beer (which reminded me very much of my teenage years), I felt overwhelmed by the sudden silence. There are very rare moments when London's constant heartbeat stops for a short time to listen to something else. In this case, it was the snow. I didn't know until that day that you could really hear it when snow drifts.

It was almost like very small bells, and if I didn't know how magic worked, I would have looked for it in moments like this... Which is not true, because I had never believed in magic before interviewing a witness who happened to be a ghost. And then I met Thomas. What is he doing right know?

It would be a lie to say it was the first time I thought of him today, but I have been very active in avoiding it. It just felt wrong to be jealous of Mellenby or even angry about what he was going to do some decades ago. Yeah, I wish I was in his shoes now, but on the other hand, he was able to take care of Nightingale. Maybe even make him happy. Still, for a moment I wish I had told Thomas everything, even if it had destroyed whatever we had. The way it was now, wasn't much of a better option.

Sometime in the night, the relatives disappeared, only to reappear in larger numbers on the second Christmas day. My mom used to tell me that they used to do this on the beach in Sierra Leone. All relatives, friends and acquaintances scraped together the leftovers of the previous meal and met under the open sky on December 26th to laugh and celebrate together. But since London did not have summer temperatures all this took place inside. This year at my parents' house.

It doesn't differ much from the first holiday, except that mostly more of the cousins are coming since some had spent the first holiday with their future parents-in-law, for example. You don't have to cook anything new (except for a good pair of kilos of rollof rice, which you could never had enough of and a little for my dad, since most of the food is too spicy for him). However, one thing was certain: someone had to do the dishes and in my infinite goodness I agreed to do it so that my mother could lie down for a few hours before the first guests came in again.

Let me anticipate so much: There were really tons of dishes, and I felt like I had used up half a bottle of Tesco dishwashing liquid, but still the stack didn't end. And then the doorbell rang.

My hands were still dripping as I reached the intercom, no one answered, so I opened the door to see a smiling Nightingale.

"Merry Christmas, Peter", he said, as my hands gently drip the floor before I wiped them off my pants. I think he noticed but didn't comment.

"Similarly, sir", I said, after looking at him for a moment. Why was he here?

Nightingale hardly stiffened noticeably, and I think it was because I didn't use his first name, then he caught himself again.

"I wanted to let you know that your hypothesis was correct." I just stared at him and wondered if I had somehow managed to drink too much yesterday. Nightingale definitely noticed. "Because of Mr. Evans. He was in fact the owner of the fateful cutlery set and we now keep it in custody in the Folly. It seems to have the power to drive unhappy lovers to desperate deeds if you believe Mr. Evans stories about his ex-wife."

Only now did I realize that I had let Nightingale down on a professional level yesterday when I left with just a little note saying I wasn't kidnapped or something because I was apparently an asshole. How could I forget?! I wanted to apologize to Nightingale right away, tell him I'd really forgotten and wasn't leaving because I didn't want to work on Christmas. Instead, I said:

"You only came here to tell me that?"

For a short time, Thomas seemed a bit shocked. I'm such an idiot. When I took a closer look at his face, I noticed that he looked kind of tired. My thoughts shifted to the thing, or rather, the one who had most likely kept him awake with activities I would rather not think about, and I felt again that touch of anger that had made me say the above.

Thomas frowned almost unnoticed.

"No", he said quietly, looking at me almost gloomily. "I just haven't had a chance to wish you a Merry Christmas. I know you're a friend of technical communications, but I wanted to do it in person because..."

He interrupted himself and stared at the ground. I think he knew as well as I did that it sounded very much like an excuse (and just for the record: I prefer personal interaction also over digital).

"That's nice of you", I tried to say more gently, but to be honest, I wondered where Mellenby was. Probably down in the car, at least you should hope so, because the Jaguar was some sort of a candy store for youngsters whose hobby was to break up cars. "I have to prepare a little something now, lively Christmas and so on."

"I understand", Nightingale said, and we stared at each other.

After an eternity, I declared it in my mind as the end of the conversation and began to close the door, half a goodbye boss muttering, but then I heard him saying my name.

I opened the door as fast as I was expecting it, which I really didn't.

Nightingale's face had a very strange expression, and I could have sworn I caught him chewing on his lower lip for a moment.

"I just wanted to say... you mean a lot to me, Peter."

I realized why he was here. Nightingale wasn't stupid, and it wasn't hard to ad one and one together why I was suddenly gone. Oh, my God, that was embarrassing. He was here to give me some sort of comfort, since I was obviously the loser while Mellenby had won, and now Thomas wanted to make sure we were still friends or something. With my luck, this little visit was David's idea. I wanted to curl up an die. Instead, my brain made the decision to do what I've been able to practice a lot lately: denial.

"Did I do anything wrong, sir?"

"No..."

"Good", I said briefly. "I really need to go now"

I was closing the door again when he suddenly grabbed my hand. His fingers are cold this time, but when I looked into his eyes, I suddenly forgot everything.

"I really meant what I said", Nightingale muttered and suddenly I didn't know how to move. Then he let go of my hand embarrassed and looked for a brief moment very much like a dog that had been beaten, but my brain was still hanging out and I almost asked him to come in.

I didn't do it because I would have kissed him at some point, even without the mistletoe branch. Because I couldn't do that to him, not after being reunited with his great love after 75 years. The love of his life. I couldn't break this for something I felt but didn't dare define myself. David was a good guy, even though he was planning to open the Black Library and leave Nightingale. He had shown remorse and he loves him.

Thomas muttered something, softened a step back and then I saw him go.

Good, said the voice in my head. It's better this way.

But my heart refused to believe a word.

I stayed with my parents for a few more days and I wished I could show another reason than me being a coward. Nightingale had tried to build me up or wanted to convince himself otherwise and what did I do? I just confirmed all his suspicions and then let him go to preserve a little bit of dignity.

And so it happened that I did not return to the Folly until the afternoon of December 31st. Molly was walking down the stairs as I closed the door so quietly as if my parents were asleep and I had returned from a party long after curfew. She gave me one of her mild angry looks, which I'm not used to get anymore. I didn't see Nightingale anywhere but didn't look for him either. He was most likely upstairs. With David.

I moved into the tech cave and whatever you think, no, I definitely didn't spend the next few hours sulking. I fell asleep in front of the TV at some point, I can't tell you what I watched, it only partially served its purpose to keep me ignoring my current feelings.

When I woke up, I was sure I missed midnight for a second, but a look at my phone informed that I had almost half an hour left. I just thought about going back to sleep. That was definitely the saddest New Year's Eve I've ever had since I grew up. I was always at some party and usually even had someone to kiss at midnight. I caught myself moaning loudly as my thoughts went back to certain two people and I buried my face in the pillow.

Last year I went to a pub with Lesley, Beverly and Sarah...I just realized that Nightingale had to spend the night with Molly. Maybe we should invite some people over next year, have a big party and transport Hugh Oswald here if he wanted to, because who knows how much time he had left. Maybe we could ask the rivers to come. But not Tyburn. Definitely not her.

I glanced at my watch and realized that I had spent almost ten minutes fantasizing about a lively New Year's Eve while some love comedy was on TV. I turned the thing off and got up. Maybe I could find Molly or Toby...

At least I could look at the fireworks, I thought to myself and got up to put on my jacket quickly, then I opened the door and stepped on the metal staircase. A figure was standing downstairs and paused in their movement to look up to me. It was Nightingale. Behind him, footprints where clearly visible in the shining snow, which reflects in the light of the folly.

My hands clung indecisively to the cold railing, as I looked for Mellenby, but found him nowhere.

"Hi", I shouted down.

"Hi", Nightingale replied and felt silent for a second. "Am I coming up or are you coming down, Peter?"

"Wait!" I said, hurrying down the stairs, almost slipping.

I stopped in front of him and stared at him, trying not to look too amazed. The cold brought a redness to his cheeks and scattered ice crystals had caught themselves in his hair.

"Hi", I said again after we had patterned each other for a few seconds.

"Hi", Nightingale repeated, with a tiny smile on his lips. "It's almost midnight."

I stepped a little closer because he said the latter very quietly and I wanted to understand him, I really couldn't think of any other reason.

"I know", I said, because I didn't know what to say. We were silent for a moment and then I asked, because I seem to hate myself: "Where's David?"

Nightingale lowered his gaze and stepped back so that we maintained a reasonable distance again.

"Countryside", he finally muttered. "He's paying Hugh a visit. Left shortly after you went."

A very big and heavy why lied on my tongue, but I managed to choke it down. Thomas gave me a shy look as if he was afraid of my reaction and then took a controlled breath in and out.

"Naturalis historiae libri", Nightingale said, and I felt the need to punch him for a second because he suddenly spoke Latin, but shortly after I was glad I hadn't. He smiled repentantly and suddenly looked pitiful. "From Pliny the Younger. You never liked him. I don't think I enjoyed translating these countless letters in my school days either. Anyway, someone just put the book on the other books on the shelf."

He pulled something out of his coat pocket. I didn't have to inspect to know what it was, and I darkly remembered hiding the ticket between the pages of a book before I discovered Molly. I must have pushed it roughly on the shelf. I fest sick and had the urge need to run away. I ruined everything.

Thomas was standing at my door on the second day of Christmas, looking for comfort. Because I ruined everything for him and he still thought of me as a friend and I acted like a total dick...Oh God, he had just spent Christmas with Molly again this year.

"Peter, I kind of expected it. I'm fine."

I buried my face in my hands because I didn't want him to think that. Nightingale should be mad at me for destroying his relationship, he shouldn't be fine, and most of all, he shouldn't have expected it. No one should go through life with the expectation that every little bit of happiness could be broken at any time.

"It's alright, Peter."

"No, it's not", I said fervently, looking up and seeing him. "I'm ruining everything."

Nightingale frowned.

"You didn't ruin anything. On the contrary. I'm glad I found it." He left it there for a moment and there was something in his grey eyes that I didn't understand. "I confronted David and we were finally able to talk about it like adults. Please forgive everything you had to endure, because we were unable to do so sooner. We owe you a lot more than just an apology."

It took me a moment to process this. Thomas sounded really honest, but I wasn't relieved at all and since I haven't proved enough yet what a huge idiot I am, I asked, "Well, didn't you break up? But if you're still together, why isn't he here and" –

"Peter" Thomas seems surprised about himself. "David apologized, but I need a little time to process it. We both do. So, he went to Hugh's for now..."

"I understand", I said, and my voice sounded cold.

Nightingale looked at me thoughtfully and said something I didn't understand.

"Sorry, what?" I asked and he glanced at me anxiously.

"There was nothing to break up", he repeated quietly. "He was my lover before, but as I stated before, things have changed. But I understand that…"– He swallowed audibly once – "That knowing that I am – um – gay makes you uncomfortable."

"What?"

"And I can see the point too", Nightingale said quickly. "If you think a friendship is inappropriate now, as well as" -

"Thomas, stop!" I said quite loudly and grabbed him by the shoulder. "I don't care if you're into guys."

He didn't believe me a bit and gently but firmly removed my hand from him.

"Then why were you mad at me?" he asked in an accusing tone.

"I wasn't mad at you. Really. It's just... can't we just forget that?" I sounded pretty pathetic, and Thomas didn't seem very convinced. "Look. First of all, I am bi and second of all I am an idiot. It's really not what you think it was and despite everything you said, I would have been happy for you if it worked out between you guys. You deserve a little love in your life."

That was too much. He would figure it out by now. Although, the last time I thought that Nightingale apparently thought I was a homophobic asshole.

He didn't say anything for a very long time, and it really made nervous.

"Believe me", I said to underline my point again. "I'd be the first to be happy if you had someone with you now."

Lies, said the voice in my head, but I think I would have said pretty much anything to stop him staring at me so accusing.

And then Nightingale was smiling that gentle smile, which always had the power to turn my brain off.

"You don't have to worry about me, Peter. I don't feel lonely." Something about his look kept me trapped, and now Nightingale gave me a grin. "I've also survived enough years without a kiss on New Year's Eve."

If you need someone to kiss you...

A loud sound ended every half thought I had, and I watched Nightingale turn to the source, then a second bell rang as the sky above us drowned in colours and shapes. Everywhere the fireworks were banging.

"Happy new...", Nightingale said as he turned to me, but he didn't get much further when I pulled his face closer to mine and kissed him.

It was clumsy, just like all first kisses are kind of clumsy. It took me a short moment to figure out what the hell to do with my hands before I put one on the back of his head and the other on his waist to pull him closer while he was still halfway trying to wish me a Happy New Year. It was clumsy and we almost stumbled on my pulling-him-closer-action, but he was warm, in my arms and I had fantasized about doing this for so long. It couldn't be more perfect.

I felt his hands on my shoulders as he detached from me and my heart sank as he looked very, very confused.

"I was jealous", I confessed weakly, as I slowly realized I had fucked up. Again. I started muttering excuses and let him go, wanting to leave, but then there were Thomas arms around my neck and his lips on mine.

"Things have changed because of you, Peter", he whispered before I stole another kiss. "You've changed everything."

I don't know how long we stood there and kissed and whispered little things while fireworks exploded over us. We definitely didn't get cold and somehow, I was unable to get away from him, but at some point, I suddenly worried about something.

"Thomas?" I asked, placing a hand on his cheek to stop him from kissing me again.

"Hm?"

"You don't blame Molly, do you? You don't kick her out or anything?"

It took him a moment to understand me before he twisted his eyes as if that was the stupidest thing he had ever heard, then he pulled me closer to him.

"Of course not, Peter", Nightingale said after a few kisses. "Molly is irreplaceable, just like you."