Hi there, it's EnduranceInHope! I'm excited to be working with ModernDayBard on this set of stories. This one-shot happens directly after the previous one. Please enjoy!

Sherlock had indeed been right about the cookies that were being baked in 221A. Shortly after he had arrived home, Jenny had practically bounded up the stairs leading to 221B and knock incessantly till he answered. When he finally opened the door he found his neighbor leaning casually against the door frame.

"So, Mrs. Hudson and I have finished decorating and are about to enjoy some fresh Christmas cookies," she smiled brightly. "You're welcome to join us. . . if you do that sort of thing."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Jenny, whatever objection I have to sentiment, I will never say no to Mrs. Hudson's or your cooking. . . Even if it is Christmas themed." Jenny's smile got wider than Sherlock thought possible. And before he knew it, he was seated at Mrs. Hudson's tiny table with a cup of coco in front of him (homemade and not that dreadful packaged stuff) and a tray of colorful cookies in the center to share.

The banter was light between the group and Sherlock was regaling his audience with the story of how one of his latest clients had tried selling a priceless family heirloom behind her husband's back. But as he was reaching the best part, there was the sound of a gloved hand connecting with the metal door leading to the 221 apartments.

"Don't clients normally use the doorbell?" Jenny thoughtfully inquired.

"Indeed." Sherlock sounded rather bored, as he reached for another red sugar cookie. "Probably carolers sending their many happy returns." Needless to say, the detective immediately regretted mentioning "carolers." Both Jenny and Mrs. Hudson had gotten up immediately and went to the front door. Sherlock just sighed, set down his cookie, and followed his female companions.

What Child is this
Who laid to rest
On Mary's lap is sleeping?
Whom Angels greet with anthems sweet,
While shepherds watch are keeping?

This, this is Christ the King,
Whom shepherds guard and Angels sing
Haste, haste, to bring Him laud,
The Babe, the Son of Mary.

The Baker Street residents listened as one of the older men in the group began the song, before the rest of group joined in. The richly woven harmonies were incredibly beautiful and did the old song justice. Even Sherlock had to admit that the group had a considerable amount of talent . . . even if the tenor section was a tad off. Sherlock picked up on Jenny's voice joining in with the group as they reached their final verse.

Oh, raise, raise a song on high,
His mother sings her lullaby.
Joy, oh joy for Christ is born,
The Babe, the Son of Mary.

This, this is Christ the King,
Whom shepherds guard and Angels sing
Haste, haste, to bring Him laud,
The Babe, the Son of Mary.

As the festive group ended the carol, they motioned for their doorway audience to follow. It was then that Sherlock saw the haphazardly thrown on coats, hats, and scarves on some of the group members. Jenny didn't need much prodding. She dashed to 221C and came out with her gray pea coat, green stocking hat, and black gloves before the detective knew what was happening.

"Are you coming Mrs. Hudson?" The landlady smiled gently,

"Oh no, child. My hip simply won't allow for it." Jenny nodded with understanding before turning to her other neighbor. Sherlock's eyes widened upon realizing her intention.

"No, absolutely not."

"Oh, come on Sherlock. You never know, it could be fun."

"I don't do 'fun'." Jenny looked to their landlady.

"Oh Sherlock, go with her. Besides it'll be dark when she's walking home and you want Jenny to be safe don't you?"

Did she really just play the guilt card on me? The image of Jenny being tied to her kidnapper's chair came unbidden to Sherlock's mind and he shuddered just a bit.

"Mrs. Hudson!" Jenny clearly hadn't meant for her appeal to go so far. "It's okay Sherlock. I'll come back before it get's dark, and I have ways to defend myself this time." She patted her pocket where she always kept a thing of mace. But Sherlock already pulled his long coat and scarf from the bench in the hall, where he had thrown them earlier.

"Let's go."

Later that evening the two were walking back to 221 Baker Street in companionable silence. Jenny suspected that Sherlock had actually enjoyed himself, but was not sure until they were going to their respective apartments. As Jenny fiddled with her keys, she heard the detective humming a tune as he marched up the steps to flat B.

This, this is Christ the King,
Whom shepherds guard and Angels sing
Haste, haste, to bring Him laud,
The Babe, the Son of Mary.

I hope that you all enjoyed! Please leave a review :) – Endurance

Song: What Child Is This?

Preferred Version: Peter Hollens