December 25:th - Christmas Morning
Sherlock came out of his bedroom, so early that the sun had barely started to come up, dressed in his dressing gown. Despite the early hour, Mrs Hudson and Doctor Strange was in the kitchen, judging by the sound. He assumed they were baking again, and the scent rather confirmed it.
The Doctor had left after dinner with the TARDIS, and the sword - Excalibur, apparently - had decided to lay on the mantelpiece next to the skull after chasing him around after he dared hit on Sherlock. There was a sort of persistence to the relic while doing so which resembled John in his most protective mood.
Once Mrs Hudson had retired downstairs and Doctor Strange and John had disappeared upstairs at around one am, Sherlock had gone into his own bedroom eventually, followed by not only the carpet, which had developed quite a habit of draping itself over his feet no matter where he was, but also tentatively by the cloak.
He did not even need to use his deductive powers to know when Strange and John had eventually settled down to sleep, as the cloak had left him just before three in the morning, and it was easy for Sherlock to understand why.
Sherlock had started to play the violin, but not too loudly, when a decidedly sheepish John woke up, at a much more resonable time in the morning and came downstairs just in time for breakfast. Maybe the timing depended on that there was magic available.
Sherlock watched John as he put new logs on the fire, much to the delight of the carpet and cloak. They were soon lying lazily in front of it like two cats made of fabric, the carpet on the floor and the cloak draped across the closest armchair. They were even batting at each other with their hems like two playful cats might. It made Sherlock smile, at least, up until he looked at his best friend (fabric aside) and saw the look of complete devestation on his face as he watched the scene.
He was about to ask, as Strange walked past him, concernedly asking "John? I am not going to ask if something is wrong, because obviously it is, but what is wrong exactly? What did we miss?" John gave him an incredulous look. "Really? Stephen, this just began, and it will never work!" Sherlock frowned. "Why not?" "Why? Sherlock, he lives in New York. It is halfway across the world!"
"Well, I am friends with him, and with the Doctor, and while he belongs in London, he travels through time! And why worry about that? They can travel instantaneously and at any time, we'll see enough of them." Sherlock rolled his eyes and put his bow back to the strings of his violin, muttering "Strange rather too much, I think". Strange smiled, leaning down to gently kiss John on the head. "Your quirky flatmate is right. I can easily open up a portal at any time and come to you. Or even open one for you to step through.
"Isn't that a bit one-sided?" John criticised. "There's cell phones" came the identical words from Sherlock and Strange at the same time. Mrs Hudson chuckled from the kitchen as John finally had to relent, and called them all in for breakfast. It seemed like she had acquired a new boy. And a few more magical relics.
Happy Christmas everyone!
I do not own anything you recognise - I don't even know where some of it is from!
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