Soufflés, Skype and Sherlock Holmes

Bittersweet Christmas

Clara perched herself on Sherlock's chair, trying to stay awake. It had been at least a month of inhabiting 221B and it was getting extremely annoying. When Clara's sleep deprived behaviour exceeded everyone's stress limits, Mrs Hudson had let her borrow a lilo. It was quickly thrown away as it was worse than the couch. So a week after Christmas, Mrs Turner in 221A was moving out, as she was moving in with her 'married ones'. One week. That's all Clara had to suffer. She repeated the words over and over. When John stayed at his girlfriend's house - whoever it was at the time - Clara snuck into his room and had the pleasure of an actual mattress. When Sherlock stayed up late, either experimenting - to every tenants' disdain - or in his mind palace, Clara would steal his bed. It was much too often that she woke up with him passed out beside her in yesterday's clothes. Unfortunately, it had almost become a norm.

Sherlock seemed particularly broody today. They had kept talking to a minimal, even around the awkwardness of waking up together. All they did was snap at each other or be ridiculously polite. Clara had helped Mrs Hudson decorate the flat. Fairy lights framed the windows and a dusty old tree was shoved in the corner, draped in gaudy tinsel. Cards were displayed on the mantelpiece and tiny reindeer statues in between. Snow drifted down outside prettily and the equally captivating flames danced in the fireplace. Clara and John were wearing awful festive jumpers thanks to Mrs Hudson. Sherlock had blatantly refused.

Clara adjusted her yellow paper crown and sipped at her glass of wine. Sherlock was playing 'We Wish You a Merry Christmas' cheerfully, his bow moving swiftly across the strings. Mrs Hudson occupied John's chair with a glass of wine, captivated by Sherlock's music. Her paper crown wobbled precariously. John lounged in the doorway with a bottle of beer in one hand and a cup of tea in the other. He had brought his latest girlfriend, Jane? Jean? Jenna? Clara couldn't remember anymore. She was opinionated but polite and Clara only said the bare necessities to her. John walked over to his girlfriend, passing her the cup of tea. He went back into the kitchen to fetch another. Whoever she was, she wore blue - which made Mrs Hudson mutter about how non-Christmassy it was. However, Jane-Jean-Jenna was a school teacher, which was the only solid connection between Clara and her.

Sherlock finished with a beautiful flourish and Mrs Hudson clapped. Lestrade whistled from by the fireplace. "Lovely! Sherlock, that was just lovely!" Mrs Hudson cooed. "Don't you think Clara, dear?"

Clara forced a smile. "Marvellous," she said. Sherlock barely made eye contact with her. Mrs Hudson was informed of the 'trouble in paradise' and took it on as her mission to mend the tether in their relationship. However, her efforts caused much more trouble than they were worth.

Sherlock bowed swiftly and Mrs Hudson giggled. "I wish you had worn the antlers!" She sighed.

"Some things are left to the imagination, Mrs Hudson," Sherlock replied. If it had been before, Clara would have laughed.

As soon as the landlady placed her drink down, Clara snatched it - oblivious to the old lady - and got up to pour the wine down the sink. John came round with another cup and pressed it into Mrs Hudson's hands. "Mrs H," he mumbled, making sure she got a firm hold.

Clara came back, almost running into Sherlock as Jane-Jean-Jenna tip toed over with a plate of finger sandwiches. Clara smiled and took one. "Ah, no thank-you, Sarah," Sherlock said, slightly dismissively as the other woman shoved the platter at him. Jane-Jean-Jenna's face immediately dropped.

Clara slunk closer to Sherlock as John squeezed through. "Uh, no, no, no, no. He's not good with names," John interrupted.

"No, he really isn't," Clara said, making a face. "It's Jenna - isn't it?" She said it so confidently and happily that the embarrassment was even worse when Jane-Jean-not-Jenna sucked on her teeth with anger.