A/N: So, once again a brilliant episode for Steven Moffatt & Mark Gatiss, can't wait for episode 3 :-) I hope you enjoy this chapter, if you do, please let me know by sending me a review. Thank you. :-)

On the 8th day of Christmas my true love gave to me ...

2nd January

Mycroft huffed in exasperation as he walked up the stairs to 221B once more. He didn't fully understand how it happened, but Sherlock always managed to come out of every encounter with their parents smelling of roses. Just because he was the 'baby of the family!' he was forgiven every time, no matter what he said. Mycroft had worked hard to suppress his own natural tendencies to speak before thinking, so why couldn't Sherlock do the same, but "oh no, one can't tell poor little Sherlock off for telling their great aunt all about her husband's philandering ways, he's only young, he doesn't understand." Mycroft growled in frustration as the old, forgotten memories resurfaced. Walking into his brother's flat, he froze in amazement at the sight that greeted him. Sherlock was stood in the middle of the flat surrounded by at least half a dozen cardboard boxes, and enough polystyrene packaging material to fill Wembley Stadium three times over.

'Don't tell me all of this is from your secret admirer, brother dear?' asked Mycroft as he came out of his momentary stupor.

'Hmm? No, of course not! What do you want this time Mycroft? Are you upset because mother and father wouldn't take your side earlier?' asked Sherlock, affecting a child's voice while speaking of their parents.

'Oh grow up, Sherlock. At least I won't be on the wrong end of Mrs. Hudson's wrath when she sees the state of this room, dear brother, and I am sure that will be nothing to how John will react when he sees the mess you've made.' stated Mycroft with an air of superiority in his voice and a barely concealed smirk on his lips when he thought of how upset his brother's landlady and flatmate would be.

Sherlock scowled, knowing he was beaten. 'I'll have it all sorted by the time either of them come any where near ...' Sherlock froze mid sentence as he heard his elderly landlady call her habitual greeting as she walked up the stairs.

Mycroft's smirk became more pronounced as he watched the fear of being caught cross his younger brother's face.

'Help me!' Sherlock hissed as he heard Mrs. Hudson climb the final few stairs to the flat.

Mycroft's raised eyebrow perfectly conveyed his amusement at his brother's predicament. Sherlock gave a low growl, and whispered 'Please!'

Rolling his eyes in resignation, Mycroft walked over to the door of the flat and opened it just wide enough to put his head through the gap, all the while wondering if it wasn't just his parents who indulged the younger Holmes. Pasting on his best 'politician' smile, Mycroft spoke to the elderly woman as she stood with her hand already outstretched to push open the door. 'Mrs. Hudson, it is so good to see you again, I hope you are keeping well?'

'Oh, quite well, thank you dear, I just came up to see Sherlock, another parcel has come for him, so I thought I'd better bring it up.' Mrs. Hudson replied as she held up a package wrapped as ever in plain brown paper, 'only it's rather heavy.'

'Please, allow me to unburden you, Mrs. Hudson. I'm rather afraid that Sherlock is a little busy at the moment, he's conducting an experiment, and you know what he's like. Anyway, I'll just take this from you and let you get on.' answered Mycroft, pulling the package towards himself, as his face began to ache from maintaining the smile for considerably longer than he normally would be required to do.

'Well, thank you, that's very kind of you!' Mrs. Hudson said as she began to walk back down the stairs to her own flat. As she reached halfway, she turned and looked back at Mycroft and said 'Oh and tell Sherlock that he'd better have tidied up whatever mess he's made before tomorrow, otherwise it's coming off his rent, okay?'

Mycroft grinned and inclined his head in a nod before pulling himself and the package back into the flat, and closing the door. Turning around he surveyed the flat and sighed in weary frustration. If anything, the flat was now in a worse state than before. All of the boxes had been emptied and there were dozens of pieces of laboratory glassware on every available surface.

'Where on earth did you get all of this stuff, Sherlock?' asked Mycroft as he moved several beakers and volumetric flasks to the other side of the coffee table to put down the package he currently held in his hands.

'A small laboratory across town has recently gone out of business, and they were selling off their equipment cheap, so I decided to add to my stores. I wanted to buy one of their GCMS's but I don't have enough space in my room, and I don't think John would appreciate me commandeering his room. I'll just have to keep using the ones at Bart's instead.' Sherlock replied. ' I see Mrs. Hudson brought up another parcel.'

Picking up several pieces of glassware, Sherlock placed them back into one of the boxes and carried it to his room. Doing the same with the rest of the boxes, he eventually cleared most of the equipment away. Then sitting down, he picked up the parcel and began to study it. The package was heavy, though not as heavy as the one he had received three days before when it had contained the five bells. Unable to discern anything further, Sherlock opened the package. In front of him was another bag of jigsaw pieces, the note from his admirer, and an insulated cool bag that is commonly used for picnics to keep food fresh. Unzipping the bag, Sherlock looked inside and pulled out a two pint plastic container of milk. Greater investigation showed that there were three more such containers. All four of them had printed labels attached, two stated that they were for experiments only while the other two stated that they were not to be used for experiments under any circumstances.

Sherlock then picked up the note and, knowing that Mycroft would delight in causing him trouble, and not really in the mood for another scuffle with his older brother, if he tried to hide the contents of the note from him, Sherlock read it aloud for his brother to hear. 'My dear Sherlock, as my eighth gift, I give you eight pints of milk. Do Not use them all for your experiments! You need to stay strong and healthy, and drinking milk, whether on it's own or with other things will help you in this. I also enclose the final 200 pieces of the jigsaw puzzle, I hope it has kept you amused my love. Always, Your True Love.'

Placing the note back on to the table, Sherlock picked up the four containers of milk and walked into the kitchen. Opening the fridge, he placed the milk to be used for experiments on his designated experiment shelf, and the other two containers in the door compartment. Walking back to the table he collected the jigsaw pieces and made his way over to the desk, where he proceeded to open the bag and lay out the pieces before taking his seat in front of the unfinished puzzle. Observing the jigsaw, Sherlock noted that, with the jigsaw pieces from the previous two days added in, the four songbirds were virtually complete, and most of the background greenery had also been filled in. Slowly and methodically, Sherlock began to fill in the rest of the puzzle, stopping only briefly to slap Mycroft's hand away when his older brother came to the desk and attempted to pick up and place one of the pieces himself.

Finally the jigsaw was complete. The four songbirds made up the four corners. In the centre, standing proud and tall, was a magnificent Stag, his antlers were truly awe inspiring and could easily give Sir Edwin Landseer's painting 'The Monarch of the Glen' a run for it's money. Just below the stag, positioned at it's feet was a small robin, the vibrant red breast standing out amongst the browns and greens of the rest of the picture. Finally scrawled across the bottom in beautiful flowing script were the words 'Yours Always!'

Sherlock frowned in confusion, as he glanced up at his brother, who was looking at the jigsaw with a slight smile on his face.

Sherlock scowled as he said 'you know who it is, don't you?'

'Good afternoon, brother dear.' replied Mycroft as he turned and walked out of the door, his smile widening as he made his way down the stairs.