Can't Stay Away (BBC Sherlock) -2-

41. Christmas

My adoptive parents weren't miffed that I was flying down to London to visit the Holmes' residence. I made sure to spend an early Christmas with them before I went away. I didn't think to get anyone gifts. I was an awful person, failing at the tradition of gift giving. I couldn't set aside one day of my life to think about getting things for people that they would actually want.

Let me tell you, when Christmas came and I was introduced to the Holmes parents, I was stunned. They were ordinary people; I couldn't lie or joke about this. It was hard to figure out how Sherlock and Mycroft turned out they way they did.

Mrs. Holmes fell in love with me and couldn't stop gushing over how John Watson had a daughter. Mr. Holmes was just as nice as his wife and a bit of a jokester. He did seem to be a bit of an oddball, but it was a good kind. I still couldn't understand how their children became what they were.

The kitchen was cluttered, which was where I was primarily. I didn't want to be in the same room with Mary, who was in another room reading, I think. Her distended belly told me she didn't have many months left until the baby was born. Had that much time passed already? It was like just yesterday I learned she was pregnant.

Being in the kitchen was no better, as the Holmes brothers were in with me. Mycroft seemed to be a Scrooge and hate Christmas, whining about it.

"Oh, dear God, it's only two o'clock," he moaned. "It's been Christmas Day for at least a week now."

I snorted. Drama queen. Must run in the family.

"How can it only be two o'clock? I'm in agony."

I stole a glance at Sherlock, who was looking over the front page of a newspaper. Curious, I peeked over his shoulder. The headline "Lord Smallwood suicide" caught my eye. I vaguely remembered the name Smallwood. It didn't hold any importance to me.

"Mikey, is this your laptop?" Mrs. Holmes demanded of her oldest son. I couldn't help but smile a little as I noticed Mycroft's laptop had become a coaster for peeled potatoes and the peelings.

"On which depends the security of the free world, yes, and you've got potatoes on it."

"Well, you shouldn't leave it lying around if it's so important."

"Why are we doing this?" Mycroft gestured to the contents of the kitchen. "We never do this."

Mrs. Holmes leaned on the table, giving off a stern air. "We are here because Sherlock is home from hospital and we are all very happy."

"Am I happy too? I haven't checked."

"Behave, Mike."

"Mycroft is the name you gave me, if you could possibly struggle all the way to the end."

I couldn't imagine Mrs. Holmes dealing with her sons when they were teenagers. Even now I wondered how she put up with them after all these years. She had to have a gift. Anybody who could get along with and tolerate the Holmes brothers had a gift.

Huh, so I guess that was a good talent of mine.

"Mrs. Holmes?" a new voice asked.

I cringed, faintly remembering seeing Wiggy when I first got into the cottage. At least I was family; I didn't know where he fit into all this.

"Oh! Thank you, dear. Not absolutely sure why you're here."

"I invited him," Sherlock clarified.

I rolled my eyes. I should have expected that.