From KnightFury: A case keeps Holmes far from home at Christmastime.
Only after I'd started writing did I notice that it was supposed to be a case keeping him from home, so I kind of missed that. Hopefully you like it anyway!
Holmes sank to the ground for a moment, weary from the long climb up the mountain. Finally he had reached a sheltered spot where he could sit long enough to check his direction and catch his breath without the biting wind ripping the compass from his fingers. With hands stiff from cold, he drew his notebook from his pack, cursing as he nearly dropped it. He'd been using his notebook to keep track of his journey, and if he lost it now, he'd never make it back down.
Opening the notebook, his eye was caught by the date in the top left corner: 24 December. It was already Christmas Eve. Watson had thought him dead for months already.
For a moment, he let himself remember the previous Christmas Eve. Watson and Mary had insisted he come for dinner, and that he dressed in his seasonal dress. He'd shown up without it, not owning any, and Mary had just laughed and brought out a sweater then she'd knitted just for him. He'd spent the whole evening there, and then the night as well, eating good food and enjoying the company of friends. Even the memory was enough to bring back some of the warmth of the fireplace, and he momentarily wished that he had never even heard of James Moriarty.
The memory faded, and he wearily struggled to his feet, hefting the pack on his back higher. Moran was still behind him, and he had hours left to travel before the dawn.