WOW! I woke up this morning to find about… 10 followers? And as many favourites too. THANK GOD! I was really worried I couldn't write Sherlock for a while. So, this is all dedicated to all of you.

Especial thanks to The souless ones, lovebites240196, kiras70, beccabrr and Lorna2304!

First day of advent tomorrow. Or, Chocolate Day, as I call it XD. Listening to Christmas music as well. I really missed Wombling Merry Christmas… I'm such a nerd.

"There's always something." - Sherlock Holmes, A Study In Pink

Mulled Wine, Not Tea (Or "The Group Reconvene And Discover Mycroft's Blackmailing Plan")

Sherlock's gone mad. Meet at the flat. – JW

Greg Lestrade raised his eyebrow, before swearing under his breath and pulling on his coat, throwing his ID card at the scanner.

"Where are you off to?" Sally called, just as Greg was about to walk out of the front door.

"Sherlock's apparently gone mad." Greg said, a little reluctantly. "Look… Just… Cover me for a couple of hours, okay Sally? Just for my peace of mind."

Sally muttered under her breath, but nodded reluctantly. "Are you seeing anyone?" She asked bluntly.

Damn. Fuck it. Blazes. Bloody hell.

"No...?" Greg said slowly, turning to face his colleague for the first time. "Look Sally, Amanda might have left me…"

"A year ago."

"A year." How come Sally bloody Donavon knew more about his love life than he did? "But I'm all wrapped up with work, and it's Christmas in about a month. Just… Cover for me."

Then he was out of the door, and into his car. "Fuck." He said closing his eyes. "Sherlock, stupid stupid stupid. Okay…"

The key turned in the ignition, and he was speeding off towards Baker Street before he could really comprehend what exactly he was doing.

What John Watson was doing, however, was a whole other story.

"Mycroft, exactly, why?" He asked, staring at his flatmate's older brother with an unreadable expression. "And Sherlock, you're telling me that all this… All this bloody Christmas cheer is just so your brother will leave you alone for half the year?"

"Naturally." Sherlock replied, in a monotone. "Christmas is boring. And the only reason I have celebrated it thus far is to make sure that my brother leaves me alone."

John pinched the bridge of his nose (he seemed to be doing that an awful lot nowadays) and looked down at Sherlock, who was now doing his infuriating 'I know better than you do face' at him. "Okay." He said, taking a huge, deep, calming breath. "So, you've not gone insane, you just wanted to be left alone by your brother."

"Harry leaves you alone, doesn't she? What a millpond that must be." Sherlock said simply, as Mycroft tapped impatiently on the wooden floor of the room with his umbrella.

"What's the matter?" Lestrade came rushing in, closely followed by Molly Hooper. Sherlock noticed that Mycroft's pupils dilated slightly, and he bit back a smile. Lonely no more, it transpired. Goldfish were inherently friendly, after all, and with a memory span of three seconds anyone could forget how… Distasteful Mycroft was.

"Nothing." John said, with an air of getting the worst of it over with. "Mycroft here decided that blackmailing Sherlock into celebrating Christmas was the best way to get him to visit their mother's house."

Molly blinked, and Sherlock nodded as she wiped her mouth. She had been wearing lipstick. It didn't suit her. Did it suit anyone? Now that was something to look into. Mrs Hudson wore it daily; maybe a character-profiling test would be in order.

"So I came here for nothing." Lestrade sighed. "Nothing at all. Just another botched rescue attempt or… I don't know, I don't really give a bloody shit!"

"We could talk over our Christmas plans?" Molly suggested quietly.

Lestrade immediately walked into the kitchen. "Beer's top shelf, second cupboard along!" Sherlock called, knowing the DI's drinking habit's first hand. He'd need a few to get through a talk about Christmas. He might need a few himself… But then he could get caught off guard, let slip important information.

Best to stick to the standby of the Mind Palace.

"Thank you, Molly." John sighed, giving the woman a grateful smile for her 'good work' (if Sherlock could describe it as thus). "Harry wants to meet you Sherlock-"

"No." Sherlock said quickly.

"…Why?" John said slowly, giving his roommate a strange look. "You've never met my sister."

"She's recently converted to becoming a Buddhist, has just left her latest girlfriend, and become an alcoholic again." Sherlock looked at John sharply, and tried to resemble a smile, which was appropriate (he thought) in this subtext. "From those simple deductions, I don't think I'd like her."

John had nothing to say to that, so Sherlock looked back at the rest of the group. Mrs Hudson was making tea downstairs; Lestrade was still thumping his head against the wall, Molly trying to stop him. Maybe he got his earlier point wrong. Lestrade and Molly… Not Mycroft and Molly. He really needed to read more body language. He was getting rusty.

"Mulled Wine, anyway?" Mrs Hudson walked in, holding a bottle of the stuff. Sherlock groaned. He'd got it wrong, again.

There was always something.