Prompt: Detective by Candlelight: On Christmas Eve, Sherlock Holmes and Watson solve a mystery by candlelight, from Fractals Parade

A/N: Merry Christmas and Happy Hannukah, and every other December holiday as well!

Christmas of 1896 was in every way the perfect Christmas, with snow gently falling outside and a merry fire crackling inside, a delicious Christmas feast to look forward to and the tree needing only the gifts underneath to complete the picture. Of course, living with Sherlock Holmes meant gifts could not be placed until the last moment, for his inability to leave any mystery unsolved meant that he had often, in previous years, found and opened his gifts weeks before the holiday. I now had to take steps to prevent this that would seem draconian in a prison and spend weeks with bated breath wondering if my plans would work.

Happily, this Christmas season had passed without Holmes discovering his present early, and I could now bring it down to join the gift that I presumed was for me - as I did not suffer from the need to open my gifts before Christmas.

I went up to my room and reached into the hiding place I was certain I had used, only to find nothing there. I frowned, now wondering if I was perhaps remembering last year's hiding place, and searched a different one, with the same result.

Twenty minutes later, with my room in shambles, I had to admit defeat. I had no idea where I might have hidden Holmes's Christmas present. I had evidently done such a good job I had hidden it even from myself.

Chagrined, I went back downstairs and found Holmes seated in the armchair. "Ah, Watson, I can only imagine where you hid my gift this year. It was so expertly done I could not find it at all," he said. He was often just as interested in my hiding places as he was in the gift itself, which obviously led to tonight's embarrassing scene as I searched for better places year after year.

I felt my cheeks burn. "Well, Holmes, I must have, for I cannot find it myself. I have searched everywhere," I said. "I do apologize."

Holmes's eyes lit up. "A mystery? Watson, you could not have done better! Come, there is not a moment to lose!" He took up a candle and ran up the stairs to my bedroom.

"I have searched there already!" I said, following him. "Do be careful with that candle!" I added, as he held it low near my bedsheets.

Holmes ignored me, continuing to search, and after a few moments of looking in every nook and cranny, declared that my bedroom was clear of all Christmas gifts. "The gift was wrapped already, I presume?"

"Yes, of course," I said. "I obviously hid it so well I could not even find it again."

"The old adage of putting something in a place so safe that it is safe even from its owner," Holmes said. He was now searching the hallway upstairs before heading back down to the sitting room. "No matter, we shall find it. Of what size was it?"

I hesitated to give away much, but he was correct that knowing the size would prove useful. "It was not terribly large," I said. "Perhaps the size of a watch box."

"But not a watch?" Holmes asked.

"No," I said. "I cannot imagine where I put it."

In answer, Holmes put down the candle and began to pull books off the bookshelf. It seemed likely now that we would be spending Christmas evening putting our rooms back to habitable condition, possibly without ever finding this blasted present, when Holmes suddenly gave a triumphant cry. "I have found it! I did not know you had a fake book."

He held up a book which had a hole cut in the pages, where the box rested. "Oh…yes," I said. "I had forgotten that I went to put the gift upstairs when it occurred to me the fake book would be a better place for it."

Holmes laughed in his odd silent way. "Well, I must thank you, Watson, for a mystery is exactly what I would like for Christmas, even one so small as that."

"Next year I will simply send you on a chase around our rooms looking for clues," I promised. "This year, however, you still have a Christmas gift."

Holmes was already opening his box, which was a handsome set of cufflinks, as his were continually getting lost on chases through London. "Thank you, Watson," Holmes said. "A thoughtful and very useful gift, exactly as I prefer."

"You are very welcome," I said. "Now, let us have a quiet evening, with no further mysteries to solve." But as I settled myself in my armchair, about to open my own Christmas gift, the door burst open to reveal Lestrade, in a state of near panic. Gasping for breath, he cried, "Mr. Holmes, it is murder!"

Holmes and I looked at each other and wordlessly took up our coats. Christmas or no, the game was afoot.