Well once again I've engaged in Xmas with the parents, boxing day with the inlaws and a bank holiday with friends. Today I'm back to being called lazy and hiding from the wind... there is a rumour I may have to go to the sales later, so this might be short and sweet! lol
The Christmas table was laid in the traditional manner with position given to the salt.
Mycroft sat at the centre of the table with Sherlock to his left and Mummy to his right, Katherine sat opposite him. Simon sat beside Lady Holmes with Lucy opposite him. Junior sat between Katherine and Lucy. Uncle Sherrinford sat on Katherine's other side, with John beside him. Finally Mrs Hudson made up the party sitting opposite John and beside Sherlock.
By the time Lucy and the boys had arrived, Uncle Sherrinford was already halfway towards pickled, and being placed beside the heavenly beauty of Mycroft's bride, had brought him to his most lechourous heights. Sherlock and Mycroft were sniping, and Lady Holmes was scowling at Lucy as if every move she made physically offended her.
Lucy and the boys had changed for dinner and striping off her reindeer jumper in Sherlock's room, Lucy had dressed in a green velvet v necked waterfall dress. The chilled looks from her mother-in-law meant she wished she'd kept the jumper on.
John couldn't quite believe that he was finally attending a Holmes family Christmas, he was under no impression that Lady Holmes could stand him, he knew that to Mycroft he was a useful ally in the war against Sherlock's most destructive habits, but looking around the table he saw something he'd been silently missing for 30 years...a proper family Christmas.
Conditions got signifcantly worse when starters were served, baked lobster pots with a herby breadcrumb crusts, the first thing that happened was Sherrinford flicked a massive forkful of crust at Mycroft. Unfortunately Mycroft had been talking to the Butler at the moment of impact and turning around sharply had met blank stoney faces...apart from the youngest Holmes, John who was laughing hysterically.
Mycroft's attempt at disciplining Lucy's youngest child had led to the angry professor throwing a glass of water at him, and hitting Sherlock, who in retaliation for the whole nightmare gave Mycroft a dead arm. Katherine appealed to Lady Holmes in desperation. The Matriarch gave a huge sigh, obviously used to this kind of detriation in her Christmas dinners, and made Sherlock and Sherriford swap seats.
John was able to sit holding Sherlock's hand to avoid anything more than sniping between the Holmes brothers. However the goose had been barely carved when John started to wish he had hold of Lucy as well. Freezing cold and fairly depressed she'd found solid comfort in alcohol. John had noticed she had been drinking fairly steadily, but now had gone to a level he had silently called "Harrified".
She had started sniping in the demure Katherine's general direction, mostly about their relative position in the family, as Katherine and Mycroft were now Lord and Lady Holmes, but Simon was likely to always be Mycroft's heir. This climaxed with her standing up and screaming at the table "who am I, the Holmes family cow?"
"No!" the Dowager explained "You're the brood mare"
John stood up at this point and dragging Lucy by her hand placed her on his seat, asking Katherine to take Lucy's empty chair he shifted Sherlock opposite Mycroft and sat between his lovers. This had been a mistake as it allowed Mycroft and Sherlock to kick each other mercilessly.
The youngest Holme's were behaving themselves far better than there adult counterparts, and now sat happily opposite one another, tucking into Christmas Pudding and Brandy butter, large sticky smiles on their faces. The two Lady Holmes now sat opposite each other, with an understanding and knowing look passing between them, against the other members of the family. The elder Holmes brothers were not behaving at all, and the kicking and food flicking had given way to harsh looks and occasional ankle stomping. John now sat opposite Uncle Sherrinford, who was telling him horrendous stories about his father Creighton, and Grandfather Sherlock. Mrs Hudson and Lucy both past the point of no return in terms of alcohol, sat opposite each other at the end of the table, singing When Grandma got run over by a reindeeeeeeeer.
Later that night, after he'd finally convinced them to go to bed, John lay awake between Lucy and Sherlock. Well he thought, all things considered, this really was what Christmas was all about.
I'll probably continue this later on in the week.
Oh and I'm using my Lucy's table planning tool to work out the dynamics.
Loads of Love
Jas xx