Eight days until Christmas, and all of Sherlock's plans had fallen into place precisely as he had ordained. Tomorrow would bring a rush of activity as the first of his gifts for Tessa arrived—quite literally—demanding his attention throughout the day, if the surprise he intended for her was to succeed. Accordingly, he had finally confided in John what he had arranged for, a few days earlier. John had readily agreed to provide the crucial assistance Sherlock needed, and both men knew well the timing required to carry it all off. Best of all, Tessa had no inkling as to the wonder awaiting her.
That evening in Saint Mary's of the Angels had remained fixed in Sherlock's mind for several days afterwards, as he tried to puzzle out the best way to give Tessa the Christmas comfort of the family she was missing so. He precluded arranging for a visit home for her, almost immediately, knowing she was committed to her current production well past the holidays, and that the theatre would be dark only after the Christmas Eve matinee, resuming its regular run on Boxing Day. But if she were to have free time enough to visit her family in America, he would have been hard pressed to see her go-for to his great astonishment, he was enjoying the season in a way he had never imagined he ever would, experiencing it anew in the happy reflection of her eyes, and in her gentle love of the goodness and charity which she maintained the holiday generally engendered in people; in truth, she had become for him the quintessence of Dickens' Ghost of Christmas Present. For every example he might cite regarding the rapaciousness of greedy shoppers (and the merchants who preyed upon this fault in human nature), she would consistently give him two or three examples that countermanded his belief that Christmas in the 21st century was merely an excuse for covetous excess. Sherlock realized he should have expected no less—for had he not come to love her for the same optimism, kindheartedness, and tender expectations that she had shown him from their very start?
And so he had proceeded, peppering their conversations over the next week or so, with questions about her family and their holiday traditions, leading her to believe that his curiosity was rooted in how far different his youth had been from hers. What information he couldn't glean directly, he simply did a little research to find, Facebook and other social networking sites being the easiest source to turn to. From there, he'd contacted some of her closest family members via email, introducing himself as her very good friend and asking for their help in providing a Christmas surprise that Tessa would never dream was coming her way. In short order, he had the arrangements squared away, and looked forward with great anticipation to her reaction when the unexpected gift would be revealed.
Thursday morning dawned bright and cold, but fortunately no precipitation was expected, meaning the schedule Sherlock and John were to follow that day would not be interrupted with inconvenient weather. Sherlock let Tessa believe he was busy with casework most of the day, disappointing her hopes of seeing him before her evening performance; but in exchange he told her he would be in the audience that evening. He knew that was bound to give her a little extra incentive to excel, for she had told him more than once his attendance at her plays made her a little more nervous, but in a good way, heightening her desire above all else to make him proud of her.
The curtain rose at 7:30, and Tessa was indeed in top form, delivering another rousing rendition of The Miller's Son towards the end of Act II. During the curtain call, Sherlock wondered if she felt the extra enthusiasm in the applause, and if she could hear the very American sounding hoots and cheers that were coming from the section in which he was seated. If she had, he was certain she wouldn't think it any more than visiting tourists praising one of their own.
He allowed the usual time for her to go through her post-performance rituals, eventually texting to ask if he might come back to the dressing room to see her (a departure from their regular routine) as he might need to dash off at DI Lestrade's request to join him at a crime scene. Tessa told him she'd let the Stage Manager know (not knowing he was already in on the surprise) but that she hoped Sherlock would find time afterwards to stop by her flat, no matter the hour. That was a detail he smiled over, but kept quietly to himself.
The Stage Manager ushered Sherlock and his party to the large common dressing rooms, indicating where they would find Tessa by knocking on the door and calling out for her. Sherlock nodded to the man in thanks, and then turned to await her appearance, keeping his face impassive in the final moments before his well-planned surprise would break. Those with him were hushed in happy anticipation, even the youngest silent in her excitement at her mother's urging.
Tessa opened the door and reached her arms out to embrace him, asking lightheartedly, "Darling, do you really have to run off so…" Her mouth dropped wide in wonder as she took in the little group standing behind Sherlock. "Ohmygosh," she whispered, shocked and pleased all together, "Oh my gosh, how…when…" and then she rushed forward into the arms of her waiting family. Sherlock stood aside as they greeted one another, all speaking at once, excited and happy and tearful in some cases, all of them wanting to hug her at once, until it became one big hug, all huddled together and not wanting to let go. Though he stood apart from them, the warmth of the moment was not lost upon Sherlock, and he felt a wonderful, deep sense of satisfaction at seeing how happy they all were, not the least of which was his beloved Tessa.
As if sensing his thoughts, she turned his way, her tears clearly exultant, and moved to pull him closer, until he was wrapped in their midst. Hugging him tightly, she murmured against his ear, "Sherlock, you are the best man in the entire world, and I'll love you forever for this." Tessa pressed her lips against his cheek, before turning back to her family; she took his hand, steadfastly keeping hold, as the rush of conversation with her family members continued.
Sherlock allowed them several more minutes before speaking up, to gently move the evening along, "Tessa, we've got reservations for a late supper, and a car is waiting for us outside." She nodded in understanding, and the couple moved towards the exit, followed by her two sisters, brother and niece.
They'd closed the restaurant down, which was no surprise as Tessa's family was still operating on Eastern Standard Time. The meal had been animated, with lots of overlapping conversation and much laughter and reminiscing. Tessa had been thrilled her brother and sisters had finally gotten a chance to see her work, and they complimented her vigorously on what she had achieved, going on to fill her in on all the many details of their lives and careers and college life (in the her youngest sister's case), returning often to discuss the sweet memories of the Christmases their parents had created for them.
Tessa had given Sherlock place of honor on one side, despite the fact he told her she should have one of her sisters beside her. On her other side sat her seven year old niece, Jane, who was very excited to be on the whirlwind adventure, with lots and lots of questions for her aunt about Christmas traditions in this new place, and does Santa visit the children in London too, and what did she like best about living here. Tessa answered her questions with humor and patience, to the wide-eyed girl's satisfaction, so that Jane decided she wouldn't mind so much to spend Christmas here so long as Father Christmas (as Auntie Tessa had explained he was called in Britain) would find her here. Tessa laughed softly, "Oh, you'll be home in time for Santa to leave your presents there," and had then leaned in close to the child, telling her in a stage whisper loud enough for all to hear, "And the thing I love best about living here is this wonderful gentleman beside me."
Jane moved forward to see past Tessa, "Is my auntie your favorite part of living here, too?" she inquired, fixing Sherlock in her sights with the candid scrutiny of a child.
His honest smile was taken by all at the table as answer enough, but for Jane and Tessa's sakes, he replied, "My most favorite thing ever." The girl nodded, pleased with his response, then reached to whisper in her aunt's ear, so softly that none but Tessa could make her out. Tessa kissed her niece's cheek, telling her back, "I think so too, Jane. I really, really do."
Sherlock had made arrangements for rooms at a hotel in the heart of London, figuring that during their brief visit, Tessa would likely want to show them around the city. They dropped her family there, saying goodnight with promises for great doings on the morrow, before heading home to Baker Street. In the quiet of the cab, Tessa asked for details on how he had arranged for her siblings to visit. Sherlock answered her modestly, telling her how the idea had come to him, and how John-and even Mycroft-had helped to pull it off. That her family had been only too happy to take up his offer, willing to rearrange their schedules to make the trip a reality, and that the only reason her oldest brother didn't join them was, of course, the imminent arrival of his third child.
Tessa had been concerned about the cost of the trip, as her younger sister, Mary Elizabeth, had told her that they'd been delightfully surprised when Sherlock had arranged everything for them, and not asked for anything to defray the cost. He responded simply that he had called in a couple of favors so that the cost was nominal, and that—at Sherlock's request—Mycroft had used his influence to see her family had been bumped up to first class for the flight. "He is practically the British government, after all," he confided to her, "and I'd have been foolish not to take advantage." In all their discussion, Sherlock was ever anxious to deflect any notion that he'd acted above and beyond what any man would do for the woman he loved, but Tessa's heart knew better.
"You may fool most of the world, Sherlock Holmes," Tessa told him later, reaching to turn off the bedside lamp, as they retired for the evening, "but I see the best of you, and you're just as susceptible to the sentiment of Christmas as anybody of tender heart."
He made a quiet, scoffing sound, but that did not deter her. "Bringing my family here isn't even the best of the gift you've given me. As far as I'm concerned," she kissed his cheek, before laying her head against his shoulder, "you embracing the selfless spirit of Christmas is the greatest gift I could ever ask for."
In the darkness, as she fell to sleep beside him, Sherlock reckoned the finest gift she had given him was that very lesson—and the satisfaction—of allowing himself do just that.
(to be continued)