When they arrived at 221B, Sherlock strode up the stairs and went straight to his computer. Mary followed at a much slower pace. She stood in the center of the room silent for a moment, then she said. "If you don't mind, I'm going upstairs to have a bit of a lie down."

Sherlock said nothing.

Mrs Hudson turned and watched as she walked up the stairs.

"What is it Mrs Hudson. You've obviously got something on your mind."

"I'm worried about you Sherlock. You're working yourself too hard. And so soon after your accident. You'll do yourself an injury, working all night without sleep."

"Don't worry about that. I slept last night. Too long in fact. I hadn't planned to spend so much time in bed. It must be the illness slowing me down."

"But Sherlock? I listened for you, but you didn't come back all night."

"I slept at Mrs Watson's flat."

"Sherlock!"

"Now if you would be so kind as to leave me alone, I'll be getting on with my work."

Mrs Hudson hmphed and marched off down the stairs.

A few hours later, Mary marched down the stairs. Despite having slept, her eyes were red. She put on the kettle, then she walked into the living room and sat in John's chair. "Any luck?"

"Yes, they've gone to Portsmouth. A number of calls were placed from there last night."

"Portsmouth? But that's where the medical conference is. We had already paid for the reservation and were planning to visit the Christmas market afterwards, but when you were injured, John canceled it. I thought that you said that he wouldn't go where we would expect him to be."

"He must have guessed that I would assume that and so went anyway."

"So John outsmarted Sherlock Holmes?"

"Of course not. I just ... haven't fully recovered from my injuries yet."

"Oh yes, of course," Mary said smiling. "I can call the hotel. See if there in."

"No, you'll tip them off. Best we go see for ourselves."

The kettle whistled then, and she rose to make the tea. She pulled out two cups. "So, how are we going to get to Portsmouth. We're not taking a taxi. You spend too much on taxis as it is. Not to mention a taxi driver tried to kill you once."

"That was different...I would have..." A beep from his phone interrupted. "What is it, Lestrade?"

"Sherlock, I need your help. Department store murder."

"I told you, I was on a case."

"Please. I will only take a moment. Will you come?

"All right. Be there momentarily." He put the phone on the table, closed the laptop and rose to his feet. "Care to accompany me again, Mrs Watson?"

"But I just made tea."

"The humble tea leaf is many things, but thankfully, it is not rare. You can make more later."

"I'll just put it in the fridge. We can drink iced tea later."

Sherlock made an expression of distaste as he reached for his scarf, "Iced tea? An abomination!"

He swept on his coat and marched down the stairs. Mary followed a few minutes behind.

When they arrived at the department store, they had to push their way through a host of children and their parents to get to the officer who awaited them. Lestrade met them in a hallway.

"Lestrade, why is this place overrun with children?"

"They're waiting."

"Waiting, for what?"

Lestrade opened the door to a small room. On the floor, lying on his back with his arms outstretched, was Father Christmas all dressed in green. Mary covered her mouth.

"The manager found him an hour ago. He was supposed to be out in the store greeting the children."

Sherlock pulled on a pair of gloves and bent down to examine the man. "Cause of death?"

"I don't know. That's why we called you in."

"You need John," Mary said attracting a glance from Lestrade who hadn't noticed her until then.

Sherlock ignored her. He lifted the man's white beard and looked at his throat. Then he flurried around him, smelling his breath and examining his fingernails.

The manager poked his head in then. He was wearing a bright red Christmas cap and a worried expression. How long will this be? The families are getting restless. I've called in our back up, but we'll need to get that spare costume over there ..."

"Don't touch anything!" Sherlock said as he examined the soles of the Father Christmas' feet.

"But if someone doesn't go out there soon..."

"Don't worry. I'll help," Mary said placing a hand on his shoulder and guiding him from the room. "Just give me that hat."

Sherlock went to the table and sniffed at the food there. There was a half eaten piece of fruitcake on a plate. He lifted the box that the cake had come from read the contents."

"What is it, Sherlock. I know that you've found something."

"It wasn't murder."

"All right then what did kill him?"

"Allergies."

"Allergies?"

"This man has a severe food allergy. He wears a band on his wrist. See." Sherlock pointed at the silver bracelet just visible below the furred sleeve of his cloak." He is usually very careful about what he eats, but I suppose that he was tempted by this cake and decided to take a taste. Unfortunately, it contained nuts and he died of anaphylaxis. The signs are clearly there. Swelling in his face and throat, pale skin and fingernails. He was reaching for that bag when he fell. You can see that it has been spilled across the floor, and if we look inside..."

Sherlock bent down and pulled out an epipen. "He kept this nearby in case of an attack. Unfortunately, he did not reach it in time, and the constriction in his throat kept him from calling out."

The manager came back then. "Are you done yet? The replacement is here and he needs that suit that is hanging up. Can I take it now?"

Lestrade looked around once more and then raised his hands. Go ahead. We've already taken pictures. We'll have the body out of here soon. He'll need to be taken to the morgue to confirm the diagnosis, but it looks like an accident."

"Make sure that they take him through the back door. We can't have the children seeing a dead Father Christmas. Sales would plummet!"

"Heaven forbid."

The manager entered the room skirting carefully around the dead body as he took the spare costume from the rack. He left just as carefully and then rushed away.

Sherlock rose to his feet. "Why did you call me in, Lestrade? This was a simple accident. It may have taken a few more hours to resolve, but even your people would have figured it out eventually. Why so urgent?"

Lestrade wiped his mouth guiltily. "Actually, I was being a bit selfish today, but after this morning I felt that you owed me something. Especially after brushing off that double murder."

"Oh yes, what happened with that one?"

"The wife did it."

"Boring, so what do you want?"

"I want you to help me finish this case. Just stay with me until the paperwork is through. I want it done by five with no slip ups and no complications."

"You never had any difficulty doing your paperwork without me before. Why now?"

"Because you, Sherlock, are like a magic charm. Good luck, bad luck, I can't tell, but after the incident, no one else at the yard will come near you, and that's what I need today, no interruptions. Today is my last day before I go on holiday. I've missed the last three ones because of last minute cases, and I wanted to make sure that I got out this time. I just need to put the paperwork through on this one, and I'll be off to visit the kids."

"I don't have time for this, I need to go to Portsmouth to get John," Sherlock said stripping off his gloves and tossing them into the waste bin as he passed.

"You found him?"

"I have a lead, and I want to get there before he's gone."

"Look, it's only a few hours drive by car. If you come with me to the station while I finish this up, then I'll drive you to Portsmouth myself."

They turned then at the sound of a loud cheer. The noise of children milling and crying had changed to small voices singing. Sherlock strode toward the sound, past Lestrade, and out into the store front.

The children were clustered around the stage. Mary was leading them in what sounded like Jingle Bells except the children where hopping around like kangaroos and Santa was supposedly driving a rusty old truck through the bush. The song ended to a sea of clapping just as Father Christmas stepped out from behind the curtain.

The children rushed past Mary who turned and smiled when saw them on the edge of the crowd. She took off the hat and placed it on the head of a small boy before she jumped down and pushed her way to them.

"We're off to the station if you'd like to accompany us," Lestrade said. "You certainly do have a way with children, Mrs Watson."

Mary smiled, "Thank you, Greg. It is my job you know." She followed him out to his cruiser with Sherlock following behind. He didn't speak in the car, but he stared at Mary, a thoughtful expression on his face. When they arrived at the station. Mary tried to open the door only to find that there was no door handle.

"How do we get out?"

"Police car. They have to let you out. That's why I don't usually ride with Lestrade. I don't like being caged."

The door opened then and Mary climbed out. Sherlock slid over and exited the same way.

Eyes turned toward them as they walked through Scotland Yard. It seemed that everyone knew Sherlock Holmes. Some of the faces were filled with awe. Some with distrust. Only one was filled with hate. A curly haired black woman who was waiting outside of Lestrade's door. She stared at Sherlock Holmes with open hostility. Sherlock's lips smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Ah Sergent Donovan, I thought that you had transferred away from here."

"It's inspector Donovan, and I have. I'm just here for a case. Greg, I'd like to speak to you."

"Just a moment," he said holding up one hand as he rushed into his office closing the door behind him.

"So, you're still sticking your nose into Scotland Yard's cases. I though that we had rid ourselves of you once and for all. I should have known that you would have kept your claws in Greg. He always did have a soft spot for you. Don't know why, you Freak!"

"Ah Sally, still as charming as ever. Then again I should have expected you to be a bit peevish now that Anderson has reconciled with his wife. One night stands not satisfying you anymore? Last night was particularly bad. You got him off, but he didn't bother to stick around for you. Better luck next time."

"Now I don't know how you know that, freak, but I still don't trust you. And you had better stay away from Greg if you know what's good for you."

Sherlock looked her up and down once and then said in a quiet voice that was almost sad, "He won't you know. Lestrade will never see you that way."

"What way?" Then her scowl turned fierce, "Listen you crazy, psychopathic Freak! You had better shut that mouth of yours if you don't want to see this shoe shoved down it." Sally was distracted then by a touch on her sleeve. She looked down at the small blond woman who she hadn't even noticed until then. "What!"

"Did you say that your name was Sally Donovan?" Mary asked demurely. She stood quietly looking up at the tall detective, her dark blond braid wrapped tight around her head, her modest clothes making her look small and ordinary.

"Yes."

"Inspector Sally Donovan?"

"Yes, that's me. Have we met before?"

"No," Mary said, "but I have heard a lot about you, and I'd like to inform you that I'm going to be filing a complaint on your conduct as soon as the holidays are over."

"What? Who are you?"

"My name is Mary Watson, and I have been standing here watching you since Mr Holmes arrived. In that time you have three times referred to him using a derogatory name and have threatened him with physical violence. Is this conduct befitting an officer of the Crown? Especially for someone who is consulting on this case out of the goodness of his heart without expectation of remuneration of any kind? You should be thanking him not insulting him.

"And even if he were a criminal, and not someone on the side of the law, there is no excuse for such language. It's not acceptable for someone in your position and you should be ashamed of yourself. I can't believe that you were taught this kind of behavior. If I could, I'd like a have a word with your teachers, but as I don't know their number, I'll simply lodge a formal complaint. However, if I ever hear that you've said another insulting thing to Mr Holmes here, even a whisper, then I will find your parent's number and give them a piece of my mind. Don't think that I can't. I've been a teacher for several years now, and we have our ways."

Sally Donovan looked stunned. She stared down at the woman with wide eyes, then she turned and left without another word. When she had gone, Sherlock burst out laughing. The door opened then, and Lestrade stuck his head out. "What happened? Did you drive her away Sherlock?" Sherlock started to laugh again. Lestrade reached in and picked up a bag, then he closed and locked his door.

"We're almost there. I just need to drop off this paper, and we are done."

Lestrade dropped off his paper and they cleared the building.

After gathering their luggage from 221B Sherlock suggested that he drop them off at Mary's flat for a few hours since Lestrade obviously needed to change before the trip, and they had things to gather, such as medicines, and John's phone. Lestrade agreed, saying that he would be back to pick them up at six. After they entered Mary's flat, Sherlock plopped down on the couch, and closed his eyes. Mary took her overnight bag into her bedroom, so that she could repack it. When the door was closed, Sherlock carefully rose and walked over to the closet. He took down John's bag and removed the morphene, fresh syringes, and needles. He placed then into his spare shoes, and then stuffed a rolled up pair of socks over them before hiding them in his luggage. His eyes were closed again before Mary came out of the room and went to the bathroom to shower and change for the trip.