A/N: Bear with me. This story is just silly fun. Please suspend your logical rational thinking mind and remember, it's Christmas – miracles can happen.
Prompt from SheWhoScrawls: Nativity
"Holmes?" Bundled against the wintry cold, the doctor hastened his step to catch up with his athletically paced companion.
"Yes, Watson, I perceive you have an inquiry of which you believe I can assist. Please, continue."
"Why is there a donkey following you?" Watson glanced behind to ensure the apparition didn't disappear. The animal in question waggled a furry ear.
"Why would a domesticated member of the horse family, Equidae, be inclined to trail me? And whatever gave you such a silly idea?" The detective shrugged his chin deeper in the recesses of his woollen scarf.
The two men were coming back from a Christmas service at the local parish.
"He appears quite similar to the one that was in the stable yard where we found the Christmas geese while investigating the case of the blue carbuncle."
"Improbable."
"Improbable but apparently not impossible."
The furry four-legged member of the Equidae family trotted up behind the detective. His whiskered chin brushed against Holmes' coat sleeve as he manoeuvred his nuzzles into the left pocket.
"Ouch!" Holmes' hands flew out of his coat pockets and he came to an abrupt standstill.
The animal shifted his head momentarily, unperturbed by this sudden outburst. He flicked his long ears and reached for Holmes' coat.
"I think he likes you," Watson commented with an amused twinkle in his eye. "In fact, he seems to have taken a decided preference between the two of us for you – or at least your coat."
"Go home. Scram!" Holmes raised his walking stick and pointed. "Go back, that way." His chin popped out from under his scarf and he steeled a grey-eyed gaze back at the placid beast of burden nibbling at his buttons.
The donkey raised his enormous chocolate orbs up at the strange man holding a lovely gnawing branch. He batted his eyelashes but never wavered. Man and beast stared with a curious intensity at each other. Neither moved a muscle, like athletic opponents studying the enemy, waiting for the first crack of weakness.
Watson unconsciously held his breath as he observed this impromptu battle of two equally stubborn wills.
Abruptly, Holmes lowered his stick; a great sigh escaped his pursed lips. "It appears I have met my match, a worthy opponent." He gave the stoic donkey a faint nod of admiration. "There are depths to you fuzzy soul that merit further study."
The donkey swivelled an ear in the direction of the detective in acknowledgement. He tapped a hoof on the cobblestone and he took hold of Holmes' coattails.
Holmes twisted round to address his newly acquired acquaintance. "I can assure you that my external covering contains no nutritional value."
"I think he wants us to follow him," Watson interjected. "See, he's tugging in the direction of Church Street."
"Hum?" He studied the beast before him. The animal twirled briskly on his hooves and whisked his tail, inviting.
The two men followed their furry companion through the dusky hues of the falling night. At last, they entered a roughly hewn barn. The dust motes floated lazily in the failing light beams streaming through the cracks in the boards. A couple cows mooed softly in the corner, munching on their hay. A chicken strutted across the aisle and squawked in annoyance as it flapped to safer heights in the barn's rafters.
"Alas, a dead end." Watson removed his muffler and peered into the recesses of the humble shelter.
His biped companion found the lantern and lit it.
"Where did our donkey go?"
He held his light high and illuminated the furthest corners. "Over there," he stepped cautiously over the straw strewn floor.
The long-eared, short-legged member of the horse family stood placidly over his manger of hay. He looked up at the detective and then down at his manger.
"He cannot be hungry? His food trough is full."
Patiently, the donkey brought his gaze to meet Holmes' and stomped a tiny hoof – a decided thump. He looked back up at the men. He blinked his long lashes.
All of a sudden, something flashed between man and donkey, a connection was made, and a spark of recognition lit up Holmes' face. In an instant, he squatted down and dug into the overflowing hay of the manger. He pulled out a leather pouch with a flourish.
Watson bent over, "What's inside?"
"Oh," the detective let out a low whistle. His chronicler edged in for a better view.
"Why it's the lost nativity set from the chapel!" He counted the twelve delicately crafted silver figurines. "The whole set is here. Father Thomas will be grateful to have them back. He was quite worried when we spoke with him today."
"Yes, it will do his heart good, I am sure, to have his prized centrepiece restored. We will need to talk with the owner's of this barn, I believe." He fingered the silver baby Jesus. "I suppose, if it turns out the theft was committed out of desperate financial measures, Father Thomas may take a more lenient view on prosecution. The return of his prized nativity set will go far to mollify him."
The donkey nodded his head approvingly and picked up a large mouthful of hay.
"A curious case, Watson." He reached out a hand and patted the beast, contentedly chewing. "Thank you for your shaggy assistance."
"But how did he know you could help? How did he choose you?" Watson scratched his head. "Perhaps he recognised you from the last case with the blue carbuncle? Donkeys have excellent memories, I'm told."
"Perhaps," murmured the detective. He gave the animal another searching gaze. "Perhaps he just recognised a kindred spirit."
"One ass to the other." Watson grinned back.
"I suppose it takes one to know one." Holmes shrugged good-naturedly. "Then again, what does that say about your choice of companions, dear fellow?"