The Swan Queen | Sherlock

Twas The Night Before The New Year

 I wish it could be Christmas every day. Sebastian Moran dropped me outside Baker Street. We never spoke a word the entire drive, and yet, it wasn't an awkward silence. Just as I was about to jump out he said, "I have something for you."

"For me?"

His hand went into his coat pocket and retrieved the silver swan. "I saw you admiring it. I thought it was fitting that you have it, for your tree."

The swan had a certain glow of warmth to it from being close to his body. I couldn't help but smile at him. "Thank you."

"Now, go on. Make the most of what time you have left. Merry Christmas, Swan Queen."

"Merry Christmas."

Baker Street was quiet when I went inside. I knew John was away. But no sound at all made me slightly nervous. My own heartbeat echoed in my ears. "Hello? Sherlock?"

What would I say when I saw him? Did I keep my promise to Mycroft and not breathe a word? Or tell him the truth?

"You're home early. Did Mycroft bore you too much?" came a voice from the couch. He was laying down, pyjamas and dressing gown on, most likely bored.

"Something like that. We had an argument. Shall I stick the kettle on or would you like something stronger?"

He was studying me. His lingering gaze was uneasy, I felt like he could see into my mind. He knew where I had been. He knew what had happened. That stare alone very nearly made me blurt out I'd just spent the afternoon in Moriarty's presence. He gave me a present, shall we open it together?

"What did you argue about?" he asked.

"What?" Panic rose in my voice.

"Your argument with Mycroft, what was it about?"

Could he hear my rapid heartbeat from across the room? It felt like all of London could hear it. I certainly could. Why were we arguing? My mum, your sister. Sherrinford. "Thomas King," I blurted out. "He found out that I went to the trial. We had an argument about how much he treats me like a child."

Sherlock was staring intently at me. My heart was about to burst out my chest. But then, he turned his head to stare at the ceiling again. "John left a bottle of brandy, in the cupboard behind the biscuit tin."

I poured a glass each for us, returning to the living room feeling much calmer. "Merry Christmas, Sherlock."

"Merry Christmas, Sam."

I'm not sure how it happened, but we both ended up quite drunk. I turned the TV on to a music channel playing nonstop Christmas music, we drank, ate too many mince pies and sang along.

It was quarter to midnight when I remembered to place my silver swan on the tree. Merry Christmas, Moran. And thank you. Sherlock asked me where it came from. "An enemy," I replied. He accepted that answer. It was then I remembered my gift from my arch enemy.

I untied the ribbon and lifted the lid. There was a letter inside and a silver necklace with a crescent moon pendant. I held the chain up to admire. My gaze went to the letter.

My dearest Artemis, Goddess of the moon,

I looked away. I couldn't read it, not here, not in front of Sherlock. There was more in the small box, but I closed the lid without looking. I wiped my eye to stop any stray tears from falling.

"Have you opened your presents yet?" I asked.

"Yes, thank you for the mug," replied Sherlock, holding up the No.1 Consulting Detective mug I had given him. "Though I must point out I am the only consulting detective, therefore I cannot be first."