more filler -cries- i'm sooo sorry you guys

this is the most followers i've ever had, thank you soooooo much for the support and patience and just, aah everything ;u;

i will be wrapping this up with the scene i've been waiting to write for foreveerrr

excited for that :DD

enjoy!

December 23

They leapt off the train as soon as it screeched to a halt in the station, Sherlock unashamedly shoving other people aside and Joan yelling apologies as she dashed after him. Several people glared after them as they hared along the sidewalk, but he was more than used to it- oblivious to it, in fact.

Joan was yelling something behind him. He liked the sound of her voice. What was she worried about?

"Sherlock!"

Had she fallen behind? No, he could still hear her voice clearly over his shoulder. She was right behind him. Scent of perfume.

"Sherlock!"

Okay, so she was really upset about something. He felt her hand grab his shoulder and skidded to a halt, momentarily frozen in place by her touch and the warmth in her cheeks.

"We're going the wrong way," she snapped, tugging at his arm. "The station is this way!"

"Oh."

"Seriously, Sherlock," said Joan, pulling him the opposite direction. "What's up with you today?"

"Nothing," mumbled Sherlock, and they took off in the right direction.

They were halfway to the building when Joan pulled up short.

"Sherlock," she said in a horrified voice, digging in her heels so that Sherlock had to skid to a stop as well. He hadn't realized that she had kept ahold of his sleeve. Oh God what now. He turned to face her anxiously.

"Sherlock, we forgot about the Christmas party!"

This threw him off a bit. What Christmas party I didn't accept any invitations to a Christmas party what the heck I don't know what she's talking about.

"What Christmas party?" he asked finally, looking at her in confusion. She threw her hands up in the air.

"Well, it's not really a party, but you know what I mean," she said. "The addiction meeting!"

Sherlock gave her a look.

"We are on an important case," he lied, tugging at his sleeve. She let him go. "I don't have time to go to some Christmas celebration; you know I take nothing out of them. Go yourself if you wish."

"You know there's no point if you don't come," said Joan huffily, grabbing his wrist. "Come on, the case can wait, it's one day till New Years' Eve, and we are going."

Since when was Joan this adamant? wondered Sherlock. I mean, usually she doesn't make us go when we're on a case… but then again, this isn't a real case, so I won't argue too hard.

"... I spent last Christmas in a hospital," said the soppy-looking woman in the chair up front, sniffling a little and pushing her brown hair back behind her ears. "And this year, I'm looking forward to spending it with my family the way I haven't done for years…" She looked around the small room, which was rather drab but which had been charmingly festooned with holly, pine boughs, and tinsel. A small but real pine tree stood in the corner, with white lights and popcorn strings, sending its cool, refreshing odor over the little room.

Sherlock and Joan clapped politely as the woman finished her story and the leader looked around the room.

"Does anybody else want to share?" she asked gently, but there was no response. That was okay. Christmas infused the majority of people with a longing for a new beginning, and more people had shared today than most of the other meetings she had headed. She was pleased with the way it had gone.

They had a cheerful little celebration afterwards, pulling all the tables into the center and setting them out with fake candles. Non-alcoholic punch and paper cups, as well as assorted holiday-themed cookies and candies, were provided, and the people who didn't have to leave chatted and laughed.

"Can we go now?" asked Sherlock.

"Let's stay," said Joan softly. She smiled at Sherlock, and he blinked, caught in the headlights for a moment.

"All right," he agreed in some surprise.

By the time they walked out the door and were met with a blast of cold air, Sherlock had deduced at least two interesting things about every member at the party, even the leader, and Joan's hair had come down somewhere in between charades and singing mostly off-tune carols. It was snowing gently, with a promise of clear skies in the next few days, and the snowflakes showed brightly against Joan's sable hair and Sherlock's dark coat.

"Should we keep going on the case?" she asked, brushing a lock of hair out of her face from where the crisp night wind had blown it.

"It's late, and I can't think with all this useless information going around in my head," said Sherlock. Joan shot him a cross look.

"Let's go home. The case will still be there in the morning, it's not like we're going to catch the man red-handed if we go there now."

Joan raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"So you definitely think it was Theo?" she asked.

"I have suspicions, Watson, but I have to admit that it seems like it was Bonaphile, yes. At the very least, he has much to do with the case." Sherlock said smoothly, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye.

"But what if he decides to leak the files to the media?" asked Joan worriedly, and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"You were the one that wanted to go to the meeting," he said, stubbornly refusing to call it a party. "Watson, if he was going to leak it, he would have done it a long time ago."

"...Alright, then." Joan let out a yawn and blinked a few times. "I could really use some sleep, that's for sure."

Sherlock pulled out his whistle and blew it sharply as a taxi came around the corner.

December 24

"Happy Christmas Eve!" said Joan, coming into the kitchen and pouring herself a cup of coffee. Sherlock was already sitting at the table, sipping from his own mug and reading some papers.

"Mm," he acknowledged as she sat down across from him and pulled a few papers out of his stack, looking curious as she scanned them quickly before handing them back.

"Cold cases?" she inquired.

"Mm," he said again, finishing off the rest of his mug and shuffling his papers.

"Any plans for Christmas?" she persisted, leaning on the table and propping her chin up on her hand.

"Watson, you know me. Deduce from the context of the situation," said Sherlock in a bored voice. "I did get you a gift, if that is any consolation," he added, looking up.

"You did?" Joan sounded surprised, raising her head and staring at him with those wide, dark eyes. Sherlock wondered why she looked so surprised.

"You look like you didn't expect that," he remarked somewhat acidly, flipping a page and glancing up at her. Did he really act so cold all the time?

"I mean-" Flustered, Joan blinked. "No, I didn't mean that, I mean… just, with the case and all, I thought you'd be too busy to worry about something like that." Sherlock put down his papers and gave her a quirked smile.

"Watson, if I could focus on nothing else every time I was on a case, my life would be nothing," he remarked, blinking innocently at her. It was his turn to be surprised as she gave him a small, bright smile, placing one hand on his own in a somewhat nonplatonic gesture. He let the smile slip from his face as he looked up and they made eye contact.

"I'm glad it isn't," she said warmly.

Sherlock looked at her, half-quizzical and half-innocent, like a deer in the headlights. They looked into each others' eyes for a second before Sherlock, not knowing what to do, broke the moment by bouncing up from his seat.

"Well, time to get to work, then," he said briskly, pushing in his chair and trotting from the room. With a vaguely disappointed look on her face, Joan followed him.