It was the best part of Christmas day: the guests were gone, the debris from the party had been picked up, snow was falling gently outside under the light of the moon, and his wife was curled against his chest as they relaxed in the warm glow of the fire. It had been a long day but a good day, and John Watson was warm and happy and utterly contented, like the hero at the end of a novel after all has turned out well and there's nothing left to do but enjoy his happily every after. Mary had unpinned her hair, and he ran his fingers through it as he kissed her.

"Merry Christmas, my dear," he murmured.

"Merry Christmas, John," she sighed contentedly, a small smile on her lips. She reached up to her throat, touching the necklace that he'd given her that morning.

"You really…" he began to say, noticing the gesture.

"It's perfect," she assured him, moving her hand to his chest to feel the identical necklace laying under his shirt. It was a simple silver locket with her portrait and a small lock of her hair; hers was the same but with his. "I adore it."

"One day," he murmured, "I'll buy you gold and diamonds."

"If your love, dear John, could buy my Christmas gifts I'd be the grandest lady in the land. That love is all I ask of you, the only gift I need."

"You will always have it, darling. Always," he replied softly, and for a few minutes there was no more need for talking between them.

When the knocking came at the door, they were both so startled they accidentally knocked heads, thankfully lightly.

Watson grunted, striking the couch beneath him in frustration. "Christmas day," he murmured darkly. "They always have emergencies on Christmas day. Gluttons overeating and choking, drunkards falling on ice… I thought I'd gotten my Christmas day doctoring over with earlier when that boy came with his broken arm. I'm so sorry my love, but I'm afraid I have to go. Don't wait up for me."

"It's your duty, John; I knew what I was getting into when I married you. Go, I'll be here."

"I'll come back as soon as I can," he promised, moving to get his hat and coat.

Mary sighed, repinning her hair as she watched him go. She heard him move downstairs and open the door, followed by muffled conversation. It sounded congenial and he hadn't left after a minute or so, and so she arose to see who it was.

"Mr. Holmes!" she exclaimed happily as she came down the stairs and saw who their visitor was. "Merry Christmas! We didn't think you were in London, let alone able to come by. I'm so glad to see you here!" she said, and though she was tired she meant it and hoped he'd be able to tell as much. She approached him and embraced him, kissing his cheek fondly and seeing his face redden just slightly in the way it always did when she kissed him, his slight embarrassment making her smile.

"Merry Christmas my dear Mrs. Watson," he said sheepishly. "I am so sorry to intrude on your home like this unannounced and uninvited, but I thought on Christmas Day you may still be up at this hour, and I wished to come give you warmest greetings…" he trailed off, shifting uncomfortably and holding out the box of sweets he had brought like an offering or a penance.

"You were invited, Mr. Holmes!" Mary insisted, taking the box with a grateful smile. "It is no intrusion at all. I assure you that you are welcome here anytime; we have missed you these long two months. I sent the invitation in the hopes your case in Paris would finish in time for Christmas, and until two minutes ago I was convinced it hadn't."

"I arrived back in London this afternoon," Holmes admitted. "It was a long case, and I'm afraid I collapsed and slept for some hours. By the time I checked my correspondence I realized I'd quite missed your party, and whether you will believe me or not I assure you I was disappointed I did not attend. Perhaps it is the influence of this day of the year, but I was overwhelmed with a desire to see both of you, thought it might not be too late, and thus found myself knocking when I saw the lights were still on. I apologize: I realize now how presumptuous and intrusive I've been, for there chimes midnight and surely it has been a long day for you."

"Come sit down, Mr. Holmes," Mary insisted, "and let us have no more apologies. I assure you there is nothing but joy and relief here upon seeing you."

"Relief, madam?"

"I thought you were a patient," Watson answered him, holding up the coat he had brought as evidence. "My dear fellow, it must have been a hard case indeed for you to miss that detail. Hang your own hat and coat up on the stand there; I insist you be our guest tonight, there is a spare room that will suit you more than adequately. Come and sit down and make yourself comfortable."

"No, no, I only wanted to come wish you a Merry Christmas, I should really be on my way; surely you are exhausted as well from your own party and wish to spend some time alone without a nuisance taking up your space."

"You're not a nuisance, Mr. Holmes," Mary scolded him as she put a hand on his arm and guided him to a comfortable chair. "You are a friend. More than that, you are an old friend who has been absent and silent for some time. Christmas is a time for joyful reunions with old friends, and we are glad you are here. John was a bit worried for you, you know, as was I. If you'd been gone too much longer I would have been packing him a bag so he could go after you and ensure you came home safely."

"I do not worry about him," Watson insisted, but it was a weak argument and Mary saw the small, momentary grin on Holmes' lips at the love and care such a response to his absence invoked. She saw the flashes of emotion, too, the way he seemed as if he would momentarily come to tears, thankful for hospitality and overwhelmed by love. He didn't show it for more than a second, however, and didn't say anything to that effect, instead regaling them with the story of his Paris case until the early hours of the morning. Mary excused herself to bed, then, leaving the men to catch up. It wasn't long before John joined her, however, laughing quietly to himself that it was a rare day he could stay up longer than Sherlock Holmes.

The detective, predictably, was gone when morning came, but Mary Watson was glad he'd come on Christmas, and she knew he was as well. He hadn't said so, no, but she knew it was so, and judging by the gracious thank you card she received a few days later, she certainly wasn't wrong.

For the prompt from Book girl fan: "Merry Christmas, my dear…"

From the bottom of my heart: Merry Christmas, everyone.

Of all the songs and poems my mind could turn to this Christmas, "The Christmas Wish" by John Denver (which I always listen to him sing with the muppets, haha) comes to mind. It didn't inspire this story (because that's what the prompt is for!), but it was definitely in mind...

I don't know if you believe in Christmas
Or if you have presents underneath a Christmas tree
But if you believe in love
That will be more than enough
For you to come and celebrate with me

For I have held the precious gift that love brings
Even though I never saw a Christmas star
I know there is a light I have felt it burn inside
And I have seen it shining from afar

Christmas is the time to come together
A time to put all differences aside
And I reach out my hand to the family of man
To share the joy I feel at Christmas time

For the truth that binds us all together
I would like to say a simple prayer
That at this special time you will have true peace of mind
And joy to last throughout the coming year

And if you believe in love
That will be more than enough
For peace to last throughout the coming year
And peace on Earth will last throughout the year