Sentiment || Sherlock Holmes

His Last Vow Part 3

Sherlock's parents hosted Christmas that year. Evelyn, Sherlock, the Watsons, and at Sherlock's insistence, Bill Wiggins, drove out to the Holmes estate in the country. They shared stories and drank punch on Christmas Eve and exchanged gifts on Christmas morning.

Eve gave Mary her favorite children's books from when she was little, and gave John a baby blanket she'd made with Mrs. Hudson's help. Mycroft got a book about meditation as a joke, and a set of very nice pens for his desk. Evelyn gave Mrs. Holmes a book about the history of women in math, and Mr. Holmes got A Guide to Finding Your Lost Items.

Eve gave Sherlock blank sheet music for his violin compositions. In return, Sherlock gave her a framed photograph. This one was from John and Mary's wedding.

The four of them stood together outside of the church. It wasn't posed, like the others, but it was perfect. Mary laughed, presumably at something Sherlock said, and John looked at her adoringly. Evelyn leaned into Sherlock, his arm around her waist. They looked at each other, her laughing, and him with a hint of a smile on his face. The summer sun added to the four friends' happy glow.

Eve kissed him on the cheek. "I love it."

John studied the photo over her shoulder. He drifted off into his thoughts, fiddling with the flash drive in his pocket.

After gifts, the group dispersed. Evelyn headed to the kitchen to help Mrs. Holmes make dinner. She hoped Sherlock might take a cue from her and lend a hand, but being the younger son he was, he merely sat in a chair and accepted a plate of biscuits from his mother. Eve shook her head. She stole a ginger biscuit from him, smiling cheekily. Without looking up from the paper he was reading, Sherlock pinched her on the bum. Evelyn squeaked in surprise.

"You alright dear?" Mrs. Holmes asked.

Eve cleared her throat. "Oh, yes, nearly tripped. I'm fine."

Sherlock smiled smugly, pretending not to notice Evelyn's glare. Mycroft trudged into the kitchen and sat at the counter. He looked at the clock.

"Oh, dear God. It's only 2:00." He complained. "It's been Christmas Day for a least a week now. How can it only be 2:00? I am in agony."

"Mikey, is this your laptop?" Mrs. Holmes asked, pausing in her task of filling christmas crackers.

"Upon which depends the security of the free world, yes." Mycroft said. "And you've got potatoes on it."

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

"Why are we doing this? We never do this." Mycroft complained.

"We are here because Sherlock is home from hospital and we are all very happy." Mrs. Holmes said.

"Am I happy, too?" Mycroft sassed. "I haven't checked."

"Behave, Mike." Mrs. Holmes pleaded.

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

Wiggins loomed over Mrs. Holmes, offering her a drink.

"Oh, thank you dear." She said. "Not absolutely sure, why you're here." She admitted.

"I invited him." Sherlock said.

"I'm his protege, Mrs. Holmes. When he dies, I get all his stuff an his job." Wiggins said.

"Nope." Sherlock said.

"Oh. Well I help out a bit." Wiggins corrected.

"There we go." Eve said.