On the 2nd day of Christmas my true love gave to me ...
27th December
Sherlock woke up to his shoulder being shaken lightly.
'Sherlock, Sherlock dear, wake up.' Mrs. Hudson called out as she shook his shoulder for a third time.
Turning over, Sherlock fell with a thump as he hit the floor next to the sofa he had fallen asleep on the night before.
'Oh dear. Sherlock dear, are you alright?' fussed Mrs. Hudson as she fluttered around.
'I'm fine Mrs. Hudson, don't fuss!' replied Sherlock as he stood up and brushed himself down, running a hand across his face in an effort to wake himself up. 'Why did you wake me up? I finally do as you and John ask and sleep, and you're waking me up at some ridiculous time in the morning for no valid reason that I can see!' he grumbled tiredly, having finally fallen asleep after being awake for over forty hours.
'I'm sorry dear, but it's almost noon and another of those packages have come, just like yesterday.' Mrs. Hudson answered holding out a package wrapped once again in plain brown paper with a printed label.
Taking the parcel from his landlady, Sherlock went through the same ritual as the previous day. However when he sniffed the parcel he thought he detected something a little odd. Picking up his knife, he once again slit open the brown paper, (the wrapping was just as meticulous as the previous day). Sherlock peeled away the paper to reveal that day's gift.
Frowning slightly, Sherlock slowly, and carefully lifted the lid of the plain brown box and looked at its contents. The box was almost three quarters full of birds feathers, and nestled in the centre was a button style badge baring a picture of a dove of peace complete with an olive branch in it's beak. Sherlock raised his head and stared at Mrs. Hudson with an expression of confusion crossing his face. Then looking back down, he lifted the box to reveal the accompanying note.
Mrs. Hudson glanced down at the contents of the package initially confused at the sight of the feathers, though a smile rapidly spread across her fine doll like features when she realised what the image was, on the badge. Then, noticing the note in Sherlock's hand, she said, 'Oh my, what does the note say, Sherlock dear?'
Realising that he wouldn't get away with ignoring his elderly landlady, Sherlock cleared his throat, took a deep breath and began to read the note out loud.
'My dear Sherlock, please accept my second gift to you. The feathers were collected over several months from where they have fallen to earth. No birds were harmed in this endeavour. They are for use in your many and varied experiments. The badge was bought as a pair, please know that I hold its mate close to my heart. Always, Your True Love.'
Once Sherlock had finished, he stole a quick glance at his landlady, looking rapidly away when he noticed the tears shimmering in her eyes. He placed the note on top of the package and cleared his throat once more.
Pulling a lace handkerchief from the pocket of her cardigan, Mrs. Hudson dabbed delicately at her eyes as she reached out one hand to lightly touch the note almost reverently, as though it were an object of great beauty.
'You have quite an admirer Sherlock dear.' twittered Mrs. Hudson with a girlish giggle.
Sherlock cleared his throat again as he looked away to the side. 'Yes, well, don't you have some baking to do or something, Mrs. Hudson?' Sherlock snarled in embarrassment.
'Well there's no need to be so rude dear.' replied the elderly woman with a slight huff, as she turned around and walked out of the flat to go back downstairs.
Sherlock frowned slightly as he thought briefly about how John would be upset with him if he knew how he had spoken to their landlady, before deciding that as his flatmate was currently elsewhere, it wasn't his problem.
The ringing of his mobile 'phone quickly brought him out of his reverie. Swooping down, he picked up his 'phone and answered 'Sherlock Holmes speaking.'
Several minutes later, Sherlock ended the call on his mobile as a huge grin spread across his face. Lestrade had a new case for him, and it sounded interesting, at least an eight. Swirling around to pick up his coat and scarf, he caught sight of the box containing the badge and feathers. Reaching down, he plucked the badge from its feathery nest and examined the image on the front. The artist in him could appreciate the simple lines used to make such a universally recognised image. Straightening up he pulled on his long dark coat, then, before tying his scarf around his neck, he carefully pinned the badge to his lapel. Walking up to the mirror over the fire, he checked to ensure it was straight, before sweeping out of the flat and down the stairs to the street below, his arm already extended as he hailed a taxi to take him to his next adventure.