A New Mystery at 221 Baker Street

Chapter 70: Christmas at the Holmes'

Episode Transcript provided by Ariane DeVere/Callie Sullivan

I am so sorry for the delay. School and work have taken over my life. But I hope I make up for it with this longer chapter.

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*** NOVEMBER ***

Alice sat at her cluttered desk in Mycroft's office in Whitehall. Magnussen had kept true to his word and sent her files on James Moriarty. For the past week, she had been buried in her work; referencing and cross-referencing Magnussen's sources with her own. She often was at the office until late at night. Moriarty's death still bothered her. It was too clean, too perfect. If Moriarty was considered the Napoleon of crime, there had to more to his game and his mind before Waterloo. There had to be something missing, something that she didn't catch onto the first time.

It was almost seven in the evening by the time she arrived back at the flat. "Sherlock?" Alice asked the empty flat. To her surprise, the table in the living room was set for dinner.

"Ah, you're home early," Sherlock said as he came up the stairs. He was wearing his purple shirt- her favourite- and in his hand was a baking dish. "I wasn't expecting you for another ten minutes," He gently placed their dinner in the centre of the table.

"Mycroft's driver brought me, normally I would've taken the Tube," Alice explained. She took in a sniff of the food. "Did you make this?"

"Mrs. Hudson helped- did most of it- I bought the ingredients,"

Alice laughed at his quick succession of events. "Well, that was awfully kind of her. What is it?"

"Shepperd's pie. I used to eat it as a boy," Sherlock answered as he placed a plate in front of Alice.

"Tell me about your childhood,"

"Well, I was the dumb one between my brother and myself..." Sherlock began, he stopped the self-depreciation when Alice gave him a disapproving look. "We often spent time in the family home in the country, Musgrave Hall,"

Their conversation then drifted towards Sherlock's college years. He felt oddly relieved that Alice wasn't present when he and John visited Sebastian at Shad Sanderson. He knew his former classmate would not only try and flirt with her but also tell incredibly rude- and slightly true- stories of his days at university. It wasn't until the fall that he realised he never wanted her to think badly of him. He felt she knew about his old drug habits after he visited the drug den. Mycroft would have told her. He was thankful that his brother had the bravery that he lacked when it came to Alice.

"When did you start getting interested in detective work?"

"Like you, I have always noticed the fine details. But it was the Carl Powers case that really started my interest in crime. I met Lestrade in 2004 when a victim was found in a sauna but died of hypothermia,"

Dessert came and went. Sherlock had purchased a small fraisier cake from a local bakery. "Now," Sherlock said as he reached into his jacket pocket. In his hand was the engagement ring. Alice's eyes started to water at the sight of the delicate ring and what it signified for the both of them. "You wanted me to wait until I heard your story and I have decided that none of that matters to me. Your past has made you the person you are today and it brought you to London. So, if you will still have me, I would be honoured to have you as my wife. Alice Whitmer, will you marry me?"

"Yes," Alice began to cry as he placed the ring on her finger, where it rightfully belonged.

"You should probably thank John when he returns from his sister's," Sherlock said as the two embraced.