December 13th prompt is from Wordwielder: Presents and procrastination. Probably not what you had in mind, it took a different turn than I expected.

The streets were filled, men and women and children alike milling together in a cacophony of shouting voices. Smoke rose from each chimney, meals being kept warm for the special occasion.

Hansom cabs and automobiles rolled past the shops, bringing eager travellers to their destinations. I could hardly hear myself think, over the raucous, and yet there still seemed to be a hush in the air.

It was Christmas Eve.

Evening had arrived, and the excitement of the crowds could be felt tangibly as I pressed through them.

"Sorry, sir!" A boy cried, pulling a little girl along with him. Their eyes were alight. "It's quite alright," I said, but they had already gone. With a quiet shake of my head, I rebalanced my cane and continued on my course. I was tired to my bones.

One disaster after another had struck at the practice, it seemed; we'd had four patients brought in near death in the last two weeks alone.

And today, despite my best efforts, we lost one.

She was a young, sweet woman. Alice was her name, and she had very gentle grey eyes and a lilting voice. To this day I do not know what it was that killed her, only that I was powerless to do anything but watch as it did.

Her father would spend Christmas alone.

"Sir? Doctor Watson!" A delighted voice called my name, and I turned back.

It was Freddie.

I scarcely recognised him; it had been years since we'd served together, and he had grown from a thin, guarded boy into a fine looking young man with an open smile.

"Hello," I said, shocked. He shook my hand enthusiastically. His hair had gone from ginger to a dark shade of brown. It suited him.

"It's a right pleasure to see ye, sir," he said, clapping me on the shoulder.

"It's good to see you, too." I returned his smile. "You look well."

"Do I! That's a relief." He gave a sheepish grin. "I've been runnin' myself to t' ground these past weeks, tryin' to get ready for the 'olidays. But I've got two days off, an' I'm gonna spend them with me wife and our little girl."

"Congratulations, lad," I said, warmly. "I'm happy for you."

"I'm happy too. Never thought I would be again, after that war, but 'ere we are." He had a parcel stowed at his side, and shifted his weight from foot to foot with an impatient sort of anticipation. His accent had faded somewhat. It made him sound older.

"Here we are," I agreed. "I'm very proud of you, Freddie."

His face split into an even larger smile, and he embraced me tightly, parcel and all. "Thank ye, Doctor Watson," he said fiercely. "I wouldn't be here if it t'weren't for you."

I clasped his arm, feeling rather choked. "Go to your family. They'll be waiting."

Freddie nodded, beaming and waving; taking off at a run. "Happy Christmas!" He called back.

"Happy Christmas," I said quietly, and let my gaze fall to the ground.

I had to press on.

With all that had come to pass, I did not consider gifts until only a few days beforehand. It took searching that I summoned long-gone energy to complete; but it yielded fruit, and I had purchased something for everyone.

Everyone except Holmes.

I knew what I was going to give him, but it had to be purchased at the last possible moment. This moment was certainly that. I navigated my way through a crowd of students and picked up the gift, holding it carefully under my free arm, fearing for its safety in the jostling of elbows.

I needn't have worried. People began to return to their homes, and by the time I had exited the shop and reached the end of the street, it was growing quiet. I turned off into an alley and followed the well-remembered path to my destination.

My feet crunched over frozen grass, a chill heavy on the air. Clouds of white hung out before me as I breathed shallowly.

I stopped, fixing my eyes on the ground. All was still.

"Hello, Holmes," I said softly, laying down his gift.

The flowers were blood red against his dark headstone.

"I..."

My words were swallowed up by that blanketing, suffocating silence that clings to all cemeteries.

I brushed my fingers against the marker, and swallowed hard. Three years. Some small part of me had clung to the hope that he would return, against all odds, but at last I was coming to the realisation that he would not.

"Goodbye, Holmes."

A small, tired smile made its way onto my face as I imagined him berating me for my sentimentality. I leaned on my cane heavily, giving a minute nod.

"And quite right, old fellow. I always was the sentimental one, of the two of us."

Wind rustled through bare trees. I turned to leave, to return to an empty house.

With one final, wistful smile, I stepped away.

"Happy Christmas."