A/N: Sorry for the delay in posting this chapter, I was caught up watching (and re-watching) the first episode of Sherlock series 3. I won't give anything away, but it was brilliant! :-D

I hope you're all enjoying this story, if you are, please let me know in a review. They mean such a lot to me. :)

As ever, I still don't own Sherlock, I just write about him! :-) Please enjoy. :-)

On the 5th day of Christmas my true love gave to me ...

30th December

Mrs. Hudson stood in her tenant's kitchen. The door to the fridge open and a black plastic bin liner by her side. Grimacing, she pulled out a clear plastic bag from the salad drawer. Peering at it, her face paled as she realised the contents were not related to any salad she would wish to eat. A deep voice coming from directly behind her made her jump in surprise.

'Put the toes back, Mrs. Hudson.' said Sherlock as he walked into the kitchen.

'Oh! Sherlock, you made me jump.' replied the elderly woman a little breathlessly as she dropped the offending bag back into the salad compartment, her hand rising to her chest in an unconscious effort to slow her heart rate. 'I thought you'd gone out dear.'

'I'm just about to, but I would be much obliged if you didn't throw away my experiments, Mrs. Hudson.' Sherlock answered, walking to his chair and picking up his coat that had been carelessly thrown over its back two days before.

'I'm not your housekeeper, as you very well know, but your fridge was beginning to smell. It can't be hygienic, dear. Think what poor John would say if he saw the state of it.' replied Mrs. Hudson.

'Yes, well, John isn't here, is ...' Sherlock broke off what he was about to say as he became distracted by the view of the street below the flat. As he looked down through the window, he noticed someone walking up to 221 carrying what appeared to be a brown package. Whirling around, he dashed from the flat and ran quickly down the stairs taking them two, sometimes three steps at a time. Pulling open the front door, Sherlock noted that a package wrapped in plain brown paper was now lying on the pavement next to the door. Looking up, Sherlock quickly realised that the street was deserted, and ignoring the package for the moment, he ran along the street to the corner where a sea of people blocked his view as shoppers intent on the latest bargains in the post Christmas sales were making their way to the tube station nearby. Realising that he didn't stand a chance of finding anyone in the crowds, Sherlock turned and made his way back to Baker Street, picking up the parcel as he entered the house. Once he was back in his flat, he placed the parcel on the coffee table and sat down, barely noticing Mrs. Hudson who was hovering in the doorway to the kitchen a little uncertainly.

Raising his fingers to his lips, Sherlock closed his eyes to better aid his visual memory of the deliverer of the package before him. Concentrating on his recent memory, he didn't hear the door to the flat close softly behind Mrs. Hudson as she made her way quietly downstairs to her own kitchen to make herself a nice soothing cup of tea, and bake some of those biscuits that Sherlock was so fond of.

Sherlock pushed his mind back to what he had seen just a few minutes before. The person, it was not clear whether it had been a male or female as whoever it was, appeared to have worn a lot of bulky clothes to disguise their body shape. So possibly a woman? Or maybe not, maybe he/she wanted Sherlock to think it was a woman by apparently disguising him/herself, so possibly a man? Or maybe it was a double bluff and it was actually a woman? Sherlock groaned in frustration at the growing conundrum. Putting the question of gender to one side for a moment, Sherlock decided to focus on other aspects of the person. The height was a little difficult to judge as Sherlock had been looking down on the subject from above so that was no help. The person's walk was interesting, it was obviously disguised, but there was something about it that Sherlock was sure he recognised, he just couldn't put his finger on it. The answer was right in front of him, he was certain of it, he just couldn't see it. Placing all of the information he currently had, into a room he had set up marked 'twelve days', he exited his mind palace and picked up his mobile to send a text to his brother, "I need all CCTV footage of Baker Street for the last two hours SH"

Five minutes later he received a reply that made his eyes narrow in anger and frustration "CCTV not working on Baker Street MH"

Growling in anger, he looked at the package in front of him. Having carried the box up the stairs, Sherlock had quickly realised that this particular package was considerably heavier than the previous four packages. In fact it was probably heavier than all of the other packages combined. His ritual of checking the parcel elicited no useful information, so taking great care, Sherlock opened the package. On top, in a sealed clear plastic bag, were the next lot of jigsaw pieces which Sherlock placed to one side to look at later. Sherlock then opened the box and looked inside. His eyes widening in surprise as he saw the gift. Reaching in to the box he pulled out a gold bell that was roughly four inches in length, listening to it chime as he lifted it up. Placing it back in the box he pulled out another slightly larger bell, this one giving a deeper chime. In all there were five bells in the box, each one slightly larger than it's neighbour. Ensuring they were all safely tucked into the box, Sherlock lifted it up and picked up the note lying underneath. As the flat was currently empty save for himself, he took the opportunity to read it aloud. His deep velvet tones caressing each word. 'My dear Sherlock, I hope you are enjoying my little gifts, as much as I am enjoying giving them to you. As you have probably seen, today's gift to you is five gold bells. Even though it is not New Year's Eve until tomorrow, I wanted to give you the bells today so that you will have them to ring in the new year when it comes. Though please remember that you live in Baker Street, not Downton Abbey, the bells are not to be used to summon people to carry out your every whim! Always, Your True Love.'

An expression of confusion crossed his face, "why would I forget where I lived" thought Sherlock, then realising it was probably a popular culture reference, he picked up his 'phone and typed out a text to John "What is Downton Abbey? SH"