CHAPTER TWO

Watson watched Holmes shifting in the back of the smart black car Mycroft had sent for them. What Watson had assumed would be a party turned out to be a full weekend event, taking them through the rest of Christmas Eve, Christmas Day and Boxing Day. This hadn't been the best news John had heard, he didn't really want to be in a strange house surrounded by Sherlock family for an extended amount of time. – It was hard enough living with Sherlock twenty four seven, Lord help him if the man's family were as bad.

The only thing that made this seasonal trip bearable was the prospect of getting an insight into the closed book that was Sherlock Holmes. He tried broaching the subject of the mystery relation that was considered unsuitable but every time he did, Sherlock would ignore, insult or simply leave. It hadn't take John long to figure out that whatever had happened it had left Sherlock hurt and distant. – and if he was honest that was not a comforting thought, especially when he'd spent the past six months convinced that Sherlock cared for nothing and no one but his work. - Which really wasn't being far to Sherlock.

Clearly he'd cared for Mrs. Hudson, and he had cared enough to save his life that night in the pool, after all he could have just shot is new arch nemesis, or could have turned around and walked away, hell he could have shot John himself but he hadn't.

John remembered the terror in Sherlock's face as he'd desperately ripped the bomb from his person, he'd felt his hands shaking. So maybe the great detective wasn't as self-absorbed as he'd pretended.

While John had spent the last three days trying to deduce what he could about Sherlock's love life, which had never been so much on his thoughts, Sherlock had spent the time practically jumping out of his skin. Checking his website every few minutes in hopes that a really good murder case could keep him away from the family do. – Or more precisely the person at said gathering that he really, really didn't want to see again.

~ SHERLOCK ~

The slick Mercedes pulled through the gates of the Holmes estate. John had always figured Sherlock had money, at least enough to have attended a good public school and to live off when between cases, but he'd never expected this. The large old house looked like something out of a costume drama he's flicked past on TV.

"Your family live here?"

"Clearly." Sherlock groaned, rolling his eyes. Fidgeting with his phone and praying for a final act of deliverance care of some crazed criminal. Sadly Holmes was out of luck as the car pulled to a stop.

The car had barely stopped before a pretty woman in her early sixties came rushing out of the house, all white hair and pastel colours, an older man walking behind her. Mary and Percival Holmes, John instantly deduced, which wasn't that hard when you took into consideration that Percival was almost the image of Mycroft but resembled Sherlock in the way he walked and stood.

Sherlock didn't move to get out of the car; he just sat there staring out at the couple.

"You can't hid in here forever Sherlock."

"Watch me."

"Oh come on don't tell me that the great and wonderful Sherlock Holmes, the scourge of the criminal underworld, the man who stares danger in the eye and laughs is scared of a little Christmas party." John goaded.

Sherlock glared, his jaw tightening. "That is not funny John. – I would remind you that Mycroft has informed my father and step-mother that you are my partner… I would think you would not wish to rush into this."

John's grinning face instantly fell. He had forgotten actually. "Yeah."

They sat there for what seemed like an age until there was a small tap on the window and the small woman waved, smiling sweetly at them. Sherlock cursed under his breath before fixing what could only be considered a grimace on his lean features and opening the car door.

"Sherlock!" the woman squealed and flung her arms around Holmes's neck.

"Hello Mary." Sherlock greeted warmly.

"Sherlock." Nodded Percival Holmes.

"Father."

"Finally, I thought you'd never come." Mary continued as if the two men hadn't spoken.

"If I had any real choice in the matter, I would not have, but you know Mycroft."

The woman slapped her step-son on the arm and giggling. "So? – Is this you're…"

Sherlock didn't allow the woman to finish the sentence; he turned and waved John out of the car.

Watson exited with a warm friendly smile on his face, holding out his hand to Sherlock's step-mother.

"Mary, may I present Doctor John Watson. – John, my step-mother Mary Holmes."

"It's a pleasure to meet you."

"You too…" she grinned wider than the Cheshire cat. "… I was beginning to think Sherlock would never find himself a nice man."

John swallowed and blushed, much to his irritation. What was he doing? This was possibly the most stupid, ridiculous and embarrassing thing he'd done. – At least since meeting Sherlock Holmes.

"John this is my father, Percival Holmes." John bit the inside of his mouth to stop from laughing. What was it with the Holmes family and names. He'd thought Sherlock and Mycroft were strange enough. "Sir." John shook the man's hand, Sherlock's father returning the handshake in silence while giving him a thorough going over, making John shift uncomfortable on his feet.

John Watson had stared down the barrel of a gun, he's treated men with limbs blown clear of, he'd had a bomb strapped to his chest by a mad criminal mastermind, but there was nothing more intimidating that the stare Percival Holmes was currently giving him.

"Come on in." Mary smiled softy. "We'll get you settled then you can tell me all about how you met."

"Oh, it's not really that interesting." John insisted, but he was ignored as the woman led the way into the house.

~ SHERLOCK ~

John and Sherlock were led up the large stair case by Mary. John spent the trip checking out the portraits. It seemed that Sherlock was just one in a long line of Holmes's. He wondered if they were as eccentric as his flat-mate. After a short walk they came to a halt outside a room.

"Where we go boys." Mary grinned over her shoulder, while pushing open the door.

John swallowed hard at the sight of the double bed. He really shouldn't have been surprised, yet was.

"What is this?" Sherlock asked with a deep frown usually reserved for his most baffling cases.

"I had it cleared out years ago Sherlock. We were not sure whether you would ever be returned and those experiments were decades old, it was about time they got thrown out. – Besides, I did not think your boyfriend would really want to share a room with over twenty years' worth of science experiments and journals."

"Believe me; I'm used to Sherlock's mess…" John said with a smirk at the irritation on Sherlock's face. He hated people messing with his experiments. "…you should see our kitchen." John instantly regretted speaking when Mary turned bright shining eyes on her.

"You're living together. – Mycroft didn't tell us that. – Well that's wonderful." She said to Sherlock, reaching up to pat his cheek. "Just wonderful."

John dropped his head when Sherlock turned furious eyes on him.

"Well, I'll leave you two to get settled. – The others will be here soon." She informed them before vanishing out of the door.

Neither of the men moved or spoke, they just stood there staring at the bed and wondering what the hell they'd gotten themselves into.

A/N: Thanks for reading and reviewing. I hope this chapter didn't let you down. :D