The 12 Days Of Christmas
Day 3 - 16th December, 2014
John watched as Gregson came strolling into the office holding a letter in one hand.
"Chaps, can I have your attention, please?"
John rolled his eyes, counting at least four females in the room.
"We've just received a letter from the Metropolitan police."
John ducked his head behind his laptop. We are writing to inform you that John Watson insulted Sherlock Holmes and must be put to death...
"It's an invitation to their Christmas party on the 21st of December!" There were various cheers and murmurs from around the room and a loud groan from John.
Another fun party at the Met.
"Alright, back to work." Gregson said before disappearing into his office.
John shook his head and went back to this laptop.
He looked up to see Sarah suddenly by his side, he nearly jumped.
"So this is exciting, a party at the Met. Although I have nothing to wear...Ooh, I might get to meet Sherlock!"
"I doubt it," John said, hoping to stop the waves of infantile infatuation before they drowned him. "His flight is leaving that day, he mentioned it yesterday."
"Oh." Sarah's face fell.
Gregson's door opened again and he walked out of his office and up to John's desk. It was like meet and greet day all of a sudden.
"John!" Gregson greeted all too cheerily. "How is the Sherlock Holmes article coming?"
"Fine." John lied with a smile on his face, despite the fact that he hadn't even looked at it since yesterday.
Gregson nodded. "On a serious note, John. I'm really impressed with you, I know you didn't want to do the article but the fact that you've knuckled down and really put your all into it...I'm really grateful for it."
"Oh, thank you." Said John, a little taken aback.
"Who knows, there might be a raise in it for you." He winked before walking away.
"Wow." Said Sarah,sounding surprised. "A raise, that's great."
"Yeah," John echoed, suddenly feeling rather good about himself.
"Maybe that's the way to make this job easier, to play to the boss a little bit."
"Always been my motto." Sarah smiled before walking back to her desk.
John smiled to himself as he looked back to this laptop. He did love being a journalist, and he was a good one. He could do this, he knew he could.
He opened up the document containing the beginnings of his Sherlock article and began rereading his notes, making a new start on the whole thing.
…
Sherlock bent down and pulled out his magnifying glass, examining the arm of the dead woman found in a field in Greenwich.
6 possible theories...
The wound on the arm was...
"Sherlock."
Sherlock looked up, broken out of his mind palace trance. He saw Lestrade standing above him,looking grim.
"Lestrade?" He asked.
"It's the family, they're here." He said.
Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "What, they couldn't wait until we'd moved the body?"
"They were a little insistent. Will you talk to them?"
Sherlock sighed, feeling the annoyance manifesting into a headache, scratching at the side of his skull.
"Sherlock, don't forget about your reputation..." Lestrade sounded a little pained as he said it, like he didn't want to force Sherlock into it. Sherlock stood immediately.
"It's okay, I'll go. Examine her for me."
Lestrade smiled gratefully and knelt down beside the body.
Sherlock didn't want to make his job any harder than it had to be, but he still couldn't escape the annoyance of having to leave a corpse right in the middle of an investigation in order to console a family that by all rights shouldn't have even been there. He was sure they had people for that.
He ducked under the police tape and stepped out into the closed-off road, popping his collar against the icy chill.
He saw a family of one man and two teenage children stood with an officer who was obviously trying to console them.
Sherlock walked up them and before he could even get a word in, the husband said, "Mr. Holmes! Can we see her?"
No,because she's a slowly rotting corpse in a field of cow dung and it will emotionally scar your children.
"I'm afraid that's impossible at the moment, I think it will be a little unsavoury." Sherlock gave him his best sympathetic look as he spoke. "But you'll be able to see her after we've gone through the proper channels."
The man nodded and hugged his children closer. "Do you know how she died?"
"I'm afraid our investigations haven't gotten that deep yet,"he said compassionately, "but, rest assured, I'm on the case, and I will get to the bottom of it."
Actually, I don't have the foggiest.
The man nodded through his tears, smiling gratefully. "Thank you , I'm so glad you're on the case."
Sherlock gave them all a sympathetic smile. "I'm so sorry for you loss. Especially at this time of year." He tagged on before leaving them with the officer and walking back to Lestrade.
Why was being nice so exhausting? He'd taken on this case when he was supposed to be focused on leaving, they could have a least let him get on with it.
Despite how busy he'd been, however, he still couldn't manage to get John Watson's words out of his head. How his confidence made him sound arrogant. But that family just then hadn't thought he was arrogant, they had liked him.
But then he remembered that they didn't really like him, because they didn't really know him. All they knew was his 'reputation'.
He reached Lestrade again and lent down to examine the body, this was very odd, the way she was left out like this...his mind again was drawn to the clean wound on her arm...
"It's sad, isn't it?" Lestrade interrupted again. "Her dying at Christmas."
"I suppose," said Sherlock, unsure of how to respond. "To be honest, I'm finding it hard to get into the Christmas spirit." He gestured to the body in front of him.
"Yeah,"Lestrade agreed. "Look, thank you for helping me, I know you're busy."
Sherlock's mind was brought back to his full flat and all the none-packing he had done, and again to John Watson's words. He was a journalist, of course he would have had some insight into the way Sherlock lived. He should have realised it before.
"It's okay, Greg. Really. It's why I'm a detective, to help people. There's no schedule."
They remained silent for a long moment as Sherlock began to examine the body's hair follicles.
"The thing about Christmas spirit is that it's not really about the holiday, it's about the people you're with." Said Lestrade randomly, very successfully reminding Sherlock that he was leaving behind the only people he vaguely cared about in England.
"But I'm sure you'll meet loads of great people in New York." He quickly tagged on, sounding uneasy,
Sherlock sighed, watching the steam from his breath rise in front of him.
…
It was nearly the end of the day and John had already steam rollered through half of his article which was pretty good for a days work. But he was working with a renewed vigour for his love of the job, for the fact that a simple article might alleviate him above and beyond his position now.
John thought that nothing could break his stride now. He was just describing the way the Met's black and silver Christmas decorations gave the entire establishment a touch of class when his mobile went off.
Because nearly everyone in the office had gone home by now, John took the phone from his jacket pocket and answered, sighing to himself.
"Hello?" He asked, staring at the words on the screen. The black font was making his vision blurry.
"Hello, darling. It's mummy."
"Oh, hi mum."John greeted, trying to sound as happy as possible, completely in the knowledge that if he even so much as sounded down his mother would tell him it was because he was single and then proceed to set him up on some blind date he'd never attend.
"How are you, sweetheart?" She asked.
John loved his mum, he really did, but she did have an incredible habit of calling at the most unfortunate times. It was like a sixth sense.
"I'm fine." He replied. "Just working on an article."
"Oh, this close to Christmas?"She asked, sounding worried.
"Yeah," John agreed, "tell me about it. I don't see how they expect me to bang out a full two-page spread on Sherlock Holmes in a week."
"Oh, Sherlock Holmes...?"
John's eyes widened. Oh mum, not you, too.
"Is that the nice detective who is always in the news for being so clever?"
"Yes." John replied quickly.
He heard his mother tut. "Oh, I always feel sorry for him."
John's brow furrowed. "What? Why? He's got everything."
"Yes but imagine being a police man and a celebrity at the same time? That must be hard, trying to get all of your work done with people hounding you for your autograph..."
"Well, it seems like he can handle it."
"Yes...well, enough about work, honey. I called for a couple of reasons. The first was that I was just checking in about the family get together, to make sure if you were okay to host it."
"Oh!" John exclaimed. "I got your message, I totally forgot to call you back, sorry. Yeah, I'm fine with doing that, I've got a list and everything."
"Well, just as long as you're sure."
John laughed. "Mum, I'm a grown man, I can handle one party."
His mother chuckled. "I know you are, sweetheart, and you make me so proud. That leads me on to the other thing..."
"Yeah?"
"You remember Margaret from down the street?"
"Yes." Let me guess, her successful young daughter has just come to town and is just dying to meet me.
"Well, her daughter, Phyllis, has just come down to stay for the Christmas holidays, I was speaking to her today, she's a columnist so you already have so much in common. She's dying to meet you."
John grimaced. He knew it was coming but he didn't think it would be word for word. "I don't know if I'll get the chance to say hi," he began, trying to sound disappointed. "I'm a bit busy over the holidays, especially with this party and everything..."
"That's a great idea, why don't I invite her and her mother to the party?"
"Oh, umm..." John tried to quickly search his brain for some excuse but could think of nothing. "Sure, that sounds great."
Stupid brain.
"Wonderful, I'll call them now. Ooh, I'm so excited."
John laughed with her until he said goodbye quickly and hung up.
He stared at the article in front of him, trying not to allow himself to get annoyed at the conversation that had just taken place. It's your own fault, if you just told her you like men she'd stop setting you up with women. Although, she'd probably just start setting you up with men...
John shook his head, trying to clear away the mental image that thought had just conjured up, before going back to his article.
He sighed to himself, his mind had gone blank.
"Hey, John. Time to go." Sarah said, walking over to him. He hadn't even known she was still there.
"Oh," he said, looking up and giving her a small smile. "Right, yeah, of course." There was really no point in staying now that he'd forgotten what words were.
Sarah hesitated for a moment. "Listen, I was wondering, we've been working hard lately, I was just wondering that if you're not busy tomorrow night, why don't we go for a Christmas drink? You know, to celebrate getting off work and...just as friends."She quickly clarified, not sounding too confident.
John smiled to himself, sure that she was only back on him because she knew she wasn't going to meet Sherlock Holmes now.
He looked up at her, fully intending to turn her down politely until he saw her expectant face staring at him.
"Okay," he said finally, "okay, one drink. I guess I need to start getting into the Christmas spirit, anyway."