Hello again! I just wanted to say thank you again! You guys are all so awesome and I love you and I love your reviews. I always look forward to getting up in the morning after a chapter or two, and seeing a bunch of new reviews! It makes me so happy so please don't stop!

Wow, guys...69 chapters. You might be wondering why I'm posting this on chapter 69 and not 70 and don't snigger at this chapter darlings. Well it's because chapters 70 and 71 are very happy chapters, christmas chapters! And then..I'm afraid it's all down hill from there. Something is going to happen, something bad. This story is nearing it's end. And I'm afraid you may not like the ending, but don't worry, I have many secrets still up my sleeves..even though I'm wearing a t-shirt...short sleeves, but things still fit up there.

So please enjoy the next few chapters while you can. Theres still much to happen before the end. We will see how all the characters spend their christmas. Even Jim and Seb. There will be laughs, fluff, tears and cuteness everywhere, so please enjoy.

Thank you.

The code names for the two new personas Sherlock would soon go undercover as, were Siggy, a homeless man, and The Angel, a street performer slash magician. Molly and Irene had eagerly jumped on the second alias, creating a look for him almost immediately. Molly insisted he wear the blue hoodie with the wings that she'd brought for him. His hair, now back to it's original colour, was again cut short, so much so that the curls were no longer present. Sherlock was also advised not to shave for a few days so that he had some stubble.

He was to go undercover in several places and observe three different individuals. Mycroft believed them to be members of Moriarty's empire, working in London. One such place was the NSY, Sherlock was pleased to discover, perhaps he may catch a glimpse of Lestrade. His brother made sure that on no account was he to try and interact with anyone he used to know. This put a bit of a damper on his initial excitement at leaving this house again. But at least he was getting out and doing something. That was most important.

Which was way he was currently standing outside Tescos, juggling apples and two knives, throwing and catching and spinning the objects as they flew through the air and were caught with his own quick and clever hands. He was quite pleased with his skills, he had accumulated a great number of interesting, but perfectly useless in real life, abilities while on his travels. Juggling was one of them. Sword swallowing and fire breathing were two others.

He finished his act by dropping the apples one by one into a box and then letting one knife drop through the centre of the last apple. The crowd applauded and Sherlock bowed appreciatively, making sure the hoodie remained down so as to cover his face. Several of the audience members dropped coins and notes into an empty case and commented on the amazing performance. Sherlock acted the part of a confident but modest performer, his accent and use of language very different from his normal way of speaking

He shivered as he packed up everything and phoned his brother. The hoodie, like all hoodies, didn't provide much warmth. He dearly missed his coat. He'd lost the new one somewhere in Germany.. or was it Spain? He couldn't remember. The man he had been observing for that day was now out of sight but Sherlock had come up with several useful pieces of information, so it had not been a total loss of an evening.

The buildings and shops were covered in sparkling lights of white and green and red. Christmas trees and gaudy decorations could be seen in some of the windows. The faint sound of singing could be heard from the end of the street. Christmas was so near. Its funny, until he met John, he didn't much care for Christmas, except as a young child. He'd been to a few parties of course, but he had never really enjoyed them. John and Sherlock had a Christmas Eve party last time, Christmas being rather drab and sad that year, what with Irene being apparently dead at the time. Still, they'd had warm hot chocolate, sat in their chairs and given each other presents.

Which hadn't been easy, neither had any notion on what to buy the other. Sherlock in the end had received a subscription to a magazine he rather liked and a beautiful, old, Victorian magnifying glass. He wondered where it was now. Still at Baker Street perhaps. To John he had given the complete set of Monty Python movies and an embellished card, promising to buy the milk when asked and any other groceries for six weeks. Mrs Hudson had helped him with the gift ideas. John was a hard person to buy things for.

And it was Mrs Hudson who had kindly made them a Christmas dinner. Sherlock remembered getting slightly tipsy of the cheap wine and passing out in his chair. He woke up in his bed. Still, it had been a more enjoyable holiday then he was used to. How would John be celebrating his Christmas this year, without him? Would he have another party? Would they talk about him? Remember him? Or would he go and visit family with Mary?

A horn honked lately, breaking his train of thought. His ride was here, disguised as a cab once again. He climbed inside, Anthea was sitting there waiting, as per usual, tapping away at her phone. Someone ought to confiscate that thing really. How did she ever do any work when she was constantly playing games on it? He wrapped his arms around himself and said nothing as they drove home.

It's a cold, wet and dreary day, mused the Inspector as he left his car and headed up the driveway towards the large NSY building. And it was because it was such a dull, cold day, that he was surprised to hear cheering coming from the other side of the street. A crowd had gathered. Curious, Lestrade pulled his collar up against the wind and placed his hands in his pockets, heading over to investigate.

They were all crowded around a street performer. Nothing unusual about that, though in this weather it was rather strange. The performer was tall and very skinny, wearing a deep blue hoodie with a pair of angels wings printed on the back, Greg was unable to see his face but he looked reasonably young. He was also breathing fire. The crowd would scream in delight as a plume of flames spurted from his mouth. Perhaps that was why, it was so cold but he was breathing out fire, they all gathered around him to watch and get warm off the heat it produced.

The warmth from it almost made him want to get closer, but he had paperwork, cases and so many other boring things that needed to be done today. And yet..for some reason, as he watched this kid, he felt a smile appear on his lips. The Inspector chuckled as he watched another plume of fire exploding into the air, the crowed clapping and cheering. The performer bowed and glanced at Lestrade for just the tiniest of seconds, before picking up some juggling equipment and starting on a new act.

Laughing and smiling for reasons he didn't understand or care, Greg turned around and walked back to work. This kid had brightened his day and so he allowed himself to whistle Christmas carols as he trudged all the way back to Scotland Yard.