This is a song prompt. Came to me while listening to a Christmas music station while in the car. A bit of crack but oh well. I am totally unrepentant. To hear the song go to Youtube and type in Christmas Canon with lyrics. It's by Trans-Siberian Orchestra.
John stood at the window as flakes of white drifted fitfully out of a darkening cloud cover. He could hear Mary. She was in the kitchen singing softly to the little girl on her arm as she started to make preparations for supper. He knew he would have to go in soon to help. Either by taking Sherry off her hands or by taking over cooking duties. Either was fine by him. All he had to do was stand here and fight off the urge to check his silent mobile. It hadn't chimed nor vibrated since the last time he checked.
"He's not late, yet."
John glanced at the reflection of the man beside him. "Yet being the operative word, yeah."
"Relax. He was in fine form this morning. He seemed rather excited about this year's get together. Well, as excited as Sherlock can ever seem when a murder isn't involved in the mix. Have you talked to him at all?"
"Not since we wrapped up the Simmon's case. He's not been answering his phone. I popped over to Baker Street yesterday but he wasn't in. Mrs. Hudson said he's been in and out all week, mostly out."
John, catching Mary's reflection in the window pane, half turned to receive her kiss on his cheek as she held out their daughter to him.
"Will you take her for a bit? I want to turn the tree on."
Before John could even left his arms, Lestrade started to move towards the tree. "Let me do it. This is the kid's first Christmas tree lighting. You two don't want to miss her reactions, now do you."
Mary hugged John and laid her head on his shoulder. John could only smile warmly at the man who had started to crawl under the tree looking for the male end of the lights and the wall plug. Sherry had leaned into her father from her perch on her mother's arm.
Even Lestrade couldn't miss the small but enthusiastic gasp that turned into a squeal of delight. He wriggled backwards until he was confident he could stand and not endanger the evergreen. He didn't want to miss Sherry's sight of her first Christmas either. Her little mouth formed a perfect "O", her arms out stretched, hands bent back at the wrists her little fingers wiggling slowly in a hesitant come hither motion. Suddenly her hands flew up, cupped together and she dropped her face into them. Slowly she lifted her head and looked at the tree again.
Lestrade couldn't help wondering if she was trying to play peek-a-boo or was she actually testing to see if this thing before her was real or would it disappear if she closed her eyes...oh good lord. A toddler experimenting? He shook his head bemused. Sherlock had way to much influence on his thought processes.
The sweep of headlights across the walls caught his attention, especially when they didn't move on but became stationary but neither were they extinguished.
"Looks like you have more company."
John, Mary, and Sherry, moved towards the front door. "It's Molly and Mrs. Hudson."
John opened the door and then down the steps to help the two women with their packages. Mary half closed the door the keep the draft off of the toddler in her arms.
"Greg...will you come here a moment?"
Lestrade noted the change in the woman's voice. There was a hint of tenseness. He moved to stand beside her.
"Down the street, there, on the corner."
Lestrade leaned by her. Standing on the street corner where two rough looking youth. Both just standing seemingly in deep conversation and smoking in public.
"Yeah, well...it's not like everyone gets to have a happy Christmas, poor sods. As long as they don't cause any trouble or any body lodges complaints I think I can leave them alone."
The two were all but forgotten as Mrs. Hudson bustled in and cooed over Sherry who took it with a wreath of smiles and laughter. Molly smiled as she chucked the child under the chin then went into the setting room and placed wrapped packages under the tree. Mary moved into the kitchen to start bringing out the snacks and drinks to hold every over until supper was ready to put on the table.
The peace was abruptly disturbed when a piercing whistle cut through the night. John and Lestrade traded a glance then in concert arose and moved to the front of the house.
"Oh for...bloody hell." Greg huffed then opened the door.
The two loiterers had gathered a small crowd. It look like they had been confronted or had accosted a couple of young females who were now in their faces and giving them an earful. One of the males then pushed one of the girls that earned him a hard punch from the other girl. In answer to her retaliation and apparently the sharp whistle more young people started to slip into the street. The girls started to back off when a when a high pitched trilling echoed down the street bringing John up short, his continence grim, his hands fisting, his nostrils flared. Greg looked at him and frowned.
"What was that, John"
"Among the women of the Middle East it's a mourning cry...from the men...it's a call for vengeance. A war cry."
Greg felt his stomach clench. This was not what he wanted to be doing on Christmas Eve but he started to dig out his phone when another group of young people flooded into the street.
Lestrade thumbed his phone open when a soft hum gave him pause. He gaped open mouthed as the whole crowd swung to face them. One of the girls that been roughed up pulled out a portable keyboard from under her over sized coat. John turned and opened the door and called Mary, Molly and Mrs. Hudson out onto the landing.
"Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas (The Joy that He Brings). Merry Christmas (The Joy that He brings). Merry Christmas (The Joy that He brings. Merry Christmas (The Joy that He Brriiinngss)"
The voices fell silent and John, Greg, Mary, Sherry, Molly and Mrs. Hudson were treated to a duet by a violinist and the keyboard player.
Mary gasped and voiced the thought on everyone's mind. "Oh, my God...it's Sherlock!"
Both Greg and John huffed each one planning their each own versions of pay back.
"This night we pray our lives will show
This dream He had, each child still knows.
This night we pray our lives will show
This dream He had, each child still knows.
This night we pray, our lives will show
(We are waiting)
This dream He had, Each child still knows
(We have not forgotten)
This night we pray, Our lives will show
(We are waiting)
This dream He had, Each child still knows
(We have not forgotten)
On this night, on this night, on this very Christmas night
On this night, on this night, on this very Christmas night
On this night, on this night, on this very Christmas night
On this night, on this night, on this very Christmas night
On this night, on this night, on this very Christmas night
On this night, on this night, on this very Christmas night
On this night, on this night, on this very Christmas night
On this, night, on this night, on this very Christmas night
Then the voices fell silent as the violin took over to play a solo. After the carol was finished the whole street choir broke out into more tradition carols and Victorian songs.
Mrs. Hudson tapped Mary on the arm. "I'm going to brew up some hot chocolate."
Molly turned towards the kitchen. "I'm sure we have plenty of biscuits and cakes."
For another hour or two the whole block was treated to the show. Some coming out to drop money into one of the hats that had just happened to be knocked off during the dramatic scuffle.
As it got later and colder the concert was brought to an end, each young person rushed the violinist and shook his hand. Molly and Mrs. Hudson hurried down the steps with trays of mugs of hot cocoa and snacks. These were meet with hearty cheers, enthusiasm, shy smiles and high spirited jokes. John and Lestrade slipped out to drop a few pounds of their own into one of the hats.
Another half hour and the street was empty and relatively silent as everyone headed back to the house.
"I could have called in back up before you ever got that group of buskers sorted, you know."
"Hardly, Lestrade. It's Christmas Eve. You would hardly jump to call out a unit. Besides it was all planned out. You and John were the cue. As soon as either one of you made any kind of appearance then it was to start. "
Sherlock stood in front of the hearth and rubbed his hands together. "It worked perfectly."
Mrs. Hudson pecked his cheek as she swept by him. "It was beautiful, dear."
"Merry Christmas to you as well, Mrs. Hudson."
(THE END)
(Merry Christmas to one and all)