Most of John Watson's early Christmases had been spent at auntie Mable's. They had been jolly and cosy Christmases – and traditional. To auntie Mable there was no such thing as too much tradition. They did the same thing every year, at the exact same time as the year before.
Life in the military had been lax compare to the drill John had been through every year at auntie Mable's Christmas bash.
Most of Sherlock's Christmases had been different from the year before. Sometimes he had spent them alone with the cook and the butler.
Sometimes in a dorm with his brother.
Sometimes itching in formal wear at the manor during a banquet. [Delete: awkward moment under the mistletoe with the ambassador from Burundi.]
Most of them had been boring.
What both set of Christmases had in common was the Queen's speech. It was observed with almost religious ardour by auntie Mable, mrs Holmes and the butler.
Those three would not approve of this year's arrangements at Baker Street. When her Majesty began her speech this was the scene:
1. Sherlock was not bored, mainly because he had never before spent this part of the day dressed in a black lace bodice.
2. Only one part of Captain Watson stood to attention. The rest of him was flat on his back – bottoming.