Thanks to cjnwriter for the prompt: Flowers
One morning in December, I walked into the sitting room to find a plant pot on the table, filled with the gorgeous red blooms of poinsettia, the Christmas flower. It hadn't been there when I went to bed the night before.
I'd spent the previous evening at my friend Henrietta's, as I often do when John is away with Mr Holmes. I generally prefer not to stay in alone. I'd come home quite late, but before making my way upstairs I had stepped into the sitting room to put my sewing things away, and I was quite sure there'd been nothing at all on the table.
I crossed the sitting room and pushed open the door to John's study. He was in his armchair, fast asleep. He had one boot off and the other only unlaced, and his coat was lying crumpled on the ground beside his slippers, where it must have fallen when he drifted off to sleep.
I smiled fondly to myself, picturing him sitting down 'just for a little rest' before coming up to bed. Though really, it was too bad of Mr Holmes to drag my poor husband across half the country, tire him out, and then send him home in the middle of the night.
I stood there for a moment, looking at him, feeling one emotion after another run through me. I was touched by the unexpected gift of flowers. Relieved to find him in one piece, for one never really knows what may happen when Mr Holmes is involved. A little caught out, because I had expected him to be away for another few days yet, and I had planned a light lunch of leftovers for myself. But mostly just overjoyed to have him here today with me.
I stepped forward to wake him with a kiss.