18. From Fractals Parade – Mistletoe: Someone kisses under the mistletoe in an unexpected place
Noise from the kitchen announced her location, and the low click of the practice door let me drop my things on my way down the hall. My pretty lady never noticed when I leaned against the doorway, smiling at the vision she presented.
A light tune carried as she moved back and forth along the counter, preparing both tonight's supper and a few things for Christmas. Hair tied back in some style I could never name still caught the sun with every turn, and her dress swished with the movement. I happily watched her work for several minutes before a quiet chuckle declared she had spotted me.
"Look up, dear."
A glance found a patch of green fastened directly above my head, three white berries confirming the trap set and charged. I made no effort to kill a smile when I found Mary directly in front of me, waiting for her payment. She tasted even sweeter than usual.
"You've been sampling the sugar."
The deduction earned me a merry laugh. "I can hardly make a pie without a taste test, John. How many times has Sherlock told you the same?"
"As many times as Mrs. Hudson has chased him out of the kitchen." Her answering grin let me steal another kiss, then I grabbed the spare apron on my way to the counter. I could help with the dishes for Christmas dinner tomorrow while she finished supper.
She never would tell me how that sprig of mistletoe kept moving around the kitchen, but I would not complain. She kept sampling the sugar, too.
19. From GWBear – Mrs. Hudson starts baking for Christmas
"You stay out of that."
Nearly silent footsteps behind her abruptly halted, probably with one foot still in the air, and she nearly heard the pout her more eccentric tenant aimed at her back. The start of Christmas baking also brought another tradition, one that alternated between amusing and irritating. Her resident detective possessed a sweet tooth to rival most children, and frequently only her threat of retribution kept him out of the ingredients. A moment placed a silent bet on which excuse he would use. He had tried whining yesterday…
"You need me to ensure it has not spoiled."
Ah, that one. "If that were the case, I would have hired your services days ago. That bag is for the pudding, not your spoon. And stay out of the pies!"
The beginnings of movement halted yet again, and only facing the counter prevented her smile from belying her words. She did not need to turn around to picture the put-upon look he directed at her. He should know by now that pouting got him nowhere. One hand reached for the spatula she kept nearby.
"Mr. Holmes."
Tone warned her dwindling patience, and a huff finally conceded the battle—for now. Footsteps returned to the sitting room much louder than they had come down—and to a slightly different welcome. The doctor's ribbing easily carried through the floor.
Perhaps his next attempt would make good on her promise to put the spatula to use.
21. From Book girl fan - one of the lesser known Yard inspectors has something to say
The snide tone first caught Lestrade's attention. Mr. Holmes evidently spoke with their newest Yarder—one who had yet to understand just why the pair so frequently worked with the Yard.
He would learn. Lestrade pointedly turned back to the paperwork in front of him.
But only until a clear yelp carried through the wall, followed by three angry voices. Stepping out into the hallway found even Inspector Dalor scowling down at their newest rookie, though Lestrade suspected Mr. Holmes responsible for the handprint on Hastings' face. Lestrade made no attempt to soften the warning in the question directed at the constable now using the wall to regain his feet.
"What did you say this time?"
"He won't be saying it again," Dalor replied. "Will you?"
Hastings' quick negative proved he could learn, given the right incentive. Lestrade might have to pass the idea along to the academy. Mr. Holmes was not the first to grow tired of Hastings' big mouth; he was just the first able to do something besides scold him.
25. From YoughaltheJust - A quiet Christmas Day (Christmas 1880; their first Christmas)
"Merry Christmas, Mr. Holmes."
A quiet harrumph answered the greeting—and proved the detective not yet awake. Hardly a surprise, when they had spent most of the night talking over a bottle of wine. Her smile escaped as she laid out the breakfast dishes.
"Do you have plans for today?"
A wave implied he did not, though that glance around the newspaper wondered if she had a suggestion. A moment's debate decided to voice it.
"The doctor complimented your violin in the same breath that he mentioned being unable to go caroling this year."
And a 'concert' in the sitting room would both pass the time and let them both enjoy a quiet day, though she did not voice as much. The flicker of contemplation announced she did not have to.
"Bring three plates with dinner."
Bring…what? A pause easily read her surprise to direct an "if you want" into the paper. The uncommon hesitance returned her voice.
Though the low thanks received no response. She returned to her rooms to check on the goose—and hide her pleasure at the unexpected invitation. With Lizzie on holiday, she had planned a solitary meal in the kitchen. Getting to know her tenants sounded like a much better afternoon.
Perhaps her more eccentric tenant was closer to selectively social than truly anti-social.
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