A/N: Wow, two chapters in one day! (don't hold your breath as I don't think this will be a regular thing). This chapter is much shorter than the others, but hopefully you will enjoy it just as much. If you do, please send a review and let me know :-) I would like to thank all of the people who have reviewed so far, you make my day so much more special! Thank you :-D
Still don't own, wish I did! Please enjoy :-)
On the 7th day of Christmas my true love gave to me ...
1st January – New Years Day
The pounding of feet on the stairs dragged Sherlock from his mind palace where he had been considering all he knew about his mysterious secret admirer. He growled in frustration, he was so close, he could almost feel the answer. Sitting upright, he turned to the door as Detective Inspector Lestrade walked into the flat, and just like four days ago, he came bearing gifts, well one particular gift. Sherlock held out his hand for Lestrade to give him the package.
Handing over the meticulously wrapped parcel, Greg asked, 'So how have you been, I haven't seen you for a few days? Heard any more as to when John's due back?'
Sherlock placed the parcel on to the coffee table and began to examine it. There was nothing of any real value to be noted about this particular package other than it felt soft and squishy to the touch. Opening the package, he replied 'I am quite well thank you Inspector, though becoming increasingly bored. Please tell me you have a case for me, and that you didn't just come to the flat because of your insatiable curiosity regarding my daily gifts. As to John's return, I am currently unsure of his exact plans, though he did send me a text yesterday evening to wish me a happy New Year.'
The inspector blushed slightly when Sherlock mentioned his reason for visiting as it was precisely why Greg had made the decision to visit the young consulting detective. In a futile effort to deflect Sherlock, Greg looked down at the parcel and asked, 'so what did your 'true love' send you today, it's seven swans, yeah?'
A smirk began to cross Sherlock's face, as he too looked down at the parcel on the table below him. However, the expression on his face changed rapidly to one of confusion tinged with a little fear when he saw the sealed clear plastic bag of jigsaw pieces surrounded by a rather large amount of wool. "Oh God!" thought Sherlock, "my mystery admirer hates me, he or she has given me a woollen jumper!" Moving the jigsaw pieces out of the way, Sherlock pulled at a piece of the wool, extremely surprised when a long scarf made from what appeared to be the finest cashmere wool came away in his hands. Folding it carefully and putting it to one side, he picked up another piece. This too turned out to be a scarf. Eventually, after several minutes of pulling and folding, all that was left in the wrapping was a sheet of paper containing a note from his 'true love', and at the side were seven neatly folded cashmere scarves. Sherlock glanced across at his companion, and saw the same expression of surprise on the older man's face as was on his own.
Reaching down once more, Sherlock picked up the note and realising that Lestrade would also wish to hear it's contents, began to read aloud. 'My dear Sherlock, as you are now aware, my seventh gift to you is seven scarves. I hope you will allow me a little poetic license when I tell you my reasoning behind this unusual gift. I give you the scarves, one for every day of the week, so that you may wrap them around your beautiful swan-like neck. They will keep you snug and warm during your visits to crime scenes. Stay safe and well, my love. Always, Your True Love.'
Placing the note back on to the coffee table, Sherlock picked up one of the scarves. Running it through his fingers, he felt the softness of the wool against his hand, instantly recognising how much softer it would feel against the more sensitive skin at his throat. Slowly and carefully, he placed the scarf around his neck, revelling in the warm, cosy feeling he got as he tied it securely in place.
Greg smiled softly as he saw the young detective run the ends of the scarf repeatedly through his fingers, marvelling at the softness of the wool.
'Well, I've said it before, and I'll say it again. Someone definitely cares for you kiddo!' remarked Lestrade with a grin, as he too picked up a scarf from the pile, only for it to be pulled out of his hands by the scowling young man stood at his side.
Lestrade laughed quietly to himself as he turned and walked back downstairs to the street below. "Sherlock would never change. It still felt as though he was dealing with a child every time he had any dealings with the man." he thought fondly as he climbed into his car and drove away.
A/N: See, I told you the gifts would veer into the strange and tenuous! Oooh errr, please don't hate me!