December 23: "Watson thinks it's Christmas Eve when it's actually the 23rd. Bad things happen." (from Poseidon God of the Seas)
"Merry Christmas, Holmes!" exclaimed Watson cheerfully, strolling into the sitting room. His cheeks and nose were a deep rose color from the winter weather outside, and he carried two brown parcels under his arm.
"What?" asked Holmes, very obviously confused. He was seated in his chair near the fire, reading the Daily Chronicle.
Watson laughed heartily and set down the parcels. "It's Christmas! Have you really forgotten, old fellow?"
The detective's perplexed frown deepened. "My dear Watson, it is only the 23rd!"
Watson stopped dead in his tracks. "Wait a moment…is it really?"
Holmes looked uncomfortable. "Well, yes, it is." He rose from his seat, pointing at the date on the newspaper, and approached his poor friend. "See?"
Watson groaned and ran a hand through his hair. "Oh, no! I went Christmas shopping today—I was supposed to have been at my practice! I do hope no patients came by today…oh, I feel terrible…"