"Uncle John, Uncle John!"

Two small figures rushed towards him, knocking him to the ground. Laughing John put down his presents and picked up the twins, one with each arm and lifted them over his shoulders. They giggled and pounded his back with their small fists as he limped to the living room. He deposited them on the couch and tickled them mercilessly. Lily wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek.

"Happy Christmas Uncle John!"

"Happy Christmas to you too Lily. Have you been naughty or nice?"

"Nice!"

"James?"

"Nice. Thats why we got presents!"

'"Oh, Father Christmas did come then?"

"Of course he came, it's his job, isn't it?"

John laughed. "Yes I suppose it is" Mary pouted and pretended she was upset that she did not receive a similar greeting, so the twins hugged her around the waist and pestered her for the presents. "Not yet. Where's everyone else?" Lily shrugged while James attempted to steal one of the presents. "You're early. Mummy's getting dressed and daddy is complaining about his tie and worrying about the food" Mary grinned, that sounded like her brother alright. "Alright then, you two stay put with Uncle John and I will see if I can help with anything." John nodded and placed the presents amongst others under the tree.

"So, what did you get?"

Sherlock removed the slip of paper from the roof of the box and slipped it in his tracksuit pocket. He decided to hide the phone for now. If Mycroft mentioned it, he would go and get it. Maybe. He picked up the wooden box, it seemed to require a key, so Sherlock had no idea what was inside. Milton mewed and sneezed, propelling himself backwards. "Yes the room is a bit dusty, I agree."

Sherlock picked up the kitten, resting him against his chest as he left the room. Milton decided that he wished for a better view and started to climb up the detective's chest and up onto his shoulder. "I'm not sure if that is a safe place for someone your age and size." However, the kitten seemed happy with his chosen spot so Sherlock did not remove him.

Mycroft was in his office, staring at a pile of photographs. He gestured to the leather seat opposite, Sherlock sat down, careful not to jostle the animal resting on his shoulder. Mycroft pretended not to notice the kitten and handed Sherlock the photos. His eyes widened when he recognised the subjects of the photos. John, Mary, Lestrade and Mrs Hudson, all taken clearly by someone following them closely, this one and three others were taken in John and Mary's flat, this one in 221b Baker Street. Moriarty was showing just how close he could get without Mycroft's and Sherlock's knowledge. His fists curled, his teeth clenched.

"Moriarty has been very busy, unfortunately. Do not worry, we have upped their security. Now, what did he give you? The scan revealed little, other than two harmless seeming boxes." Sherlock took out the unopened box and placed it on Mycroft's desk, along with the note found on the lid. Mycroft picked up the box, turning it over. "This makes sense, along with the photos, there was a key." The elder Holmes unfolded the note, which simply said:

Haha, made you look, xxx Jim.

Rolling his eyes, he turned his attention back to the box. Lifting the key, he inserted it into the lock and twisted it open. As he lifted the lid, he felt his stomach drop. Inside was the Thieving Magpie brand that matched the brand that now graced Sherlock's foot. He closed the lid, ignoring Sherlock's concerned questions and placed it in one of his drawers, shutting and locking it immediately.

"What was it? Mycroft..tell me pl-"

Sherlock's inquiry suddenly ended, causing Mycroft to look up in alarm. His brother was staring with a curious look on his face, at the kitten still on his shoulder. "Sherlock?" His brother raised a finger to his lips. "Ssh. He's making a whirring sound...it's like he's vibrating on my shoulder.."

"You mean he's purring. Then he's happy. Now what about the other box?"

"What other box?"

"Sherlock.."

"Look.. I can't tell you, alright?"

"I'll find out anyway"

"Good, because it only states I can't tell you, it says nothing about you finding out yourself." Mycroft's lips curled. He stood and directed Sherlock to leave, petting the cat on his shoulder before he did so.

"Be ready for dinner tonight Sherlock, seven o'clock sharp"

"I know Mycroft"

Sherlock paused as he reached the door, not turning around. "You promised me they would be safe Mycroft. Don't let me down" Mycroft nodded gravely. "I don't intend to."

Sherlock rested on the bed again, Milton wandered around the room as Sherlock watched him closely. He was a strange little creature, incredibly curious about everything. He seemed to already like Sherlock, something the detective was secretly pleased about. So few people liked him. Yes he had Mycroft, but he was family, he had no choice, Molly had been roped into this by Sherlock himself and she used to have a crush on him, Irene, Sherlock wasn't exactly sure how she felt about him. But aside from them, he had no one else. At least not right now. He signed deeply at rolled onto his stomach.

The kitten dove under the bed to explore, however soon became frightened and began to cry. Sherlock moved to the edge of the bed and swung his head over. "Milton?" Another cry and the kitten rushed in the direction of the sudden voice. He mewed loudly and leapt at Sherlock's face in earnest. "Ow! Claws! No..no let go. My hair is not a toy, please let go!" Milton however had other ideas and happily batted at a growing curl. "Don't bite that, Milton. Why don't you listen?..Right because you're an infant and an animal." Brilliant. He pried away the kittens claws, wincing as his hair was pulled and picked up one of the toys, a clockwork mouse. With the kittens attention happily elsewhere, Sherlock turned his own to the phone, which had suddenly began playing a familiar tune.

Well now, I get low and I get high

And if I can't get either I really try.

Got the wings of heaven on my shoes

I'm a dancin' man and I just can't lose.

Moriarty had evidently customised his ringtone to Stayin' Alive. How dull. The message on the phone was dull and predictable as well. 'Happy Christmas Lockie'. Sighing Sherlock put the phone back under his pillow, however the tune began to play for a second time. "Please leave me alone Moriarty" This new message was a little more worrying.

'We'll be meeting really soon Lockie. Can't wait. Kisses! Jim'

If I have anything to do with it, we will never meet again. I have no desire to see your face Moriarty. But, if I end up again having no choice, then I will make sure that this time, I'm taking you down with me. He washed away rage present on his face and picked up his cheeky pet, waving a feather back and forth in front of him. "At least I have you for the time being, to cheer me up." The kitten made a purring sound as he jumped from side to side at the feather. Sherlock let himself chuckle at the playful behaviour.

"Again, Uncle John, again!"

"Aw honey, Uncle John is feeling a bit full and tired right now." Lily pouted. "Now don't make that face, it doesn't work on me." The pout deepened. John sighed and lifted himself up and rubbed his stomach, groaning slightly. "Alright, hurry up then. One, two, three, four.." Laughing, Lily, James and two of the cousin's ran off to hide.

"They adore you." John stopped counting, smiling and pecking his girlfriend on the cheek. "Yeah and me them. God, remind me of me and Harry when we were kids. Right little terrors we were." Mary laughed. "Well I can believe that, now get counting. One more game and then we should probably head back to the motel." She yawned. "Tired?" She swatted him playfully and poked him to continue his counting. Pouting, John resumed, skipping to eighty.

"Ninety seven, ninety eight, ninety nine...one hundred! Ready or not here I come!"

"Ready or not Sherlock"

A/N: Christmas dinner may or may not be glossed over in 73 which will take place on boxing day.