thoughtformed | the most hilariously-timed backdated action post

Entry tags:

the most hilariously-timed backdated action post

to be truthful, Christmas is Sherlock's favourite holiday, even if it doesn't have quite the same feeling on this tiny island as it does in London. the impossible rush of millions upon millions of people, the sheer oppressive noise of it at all, silenced by that sudden world-halting hush of morning, a city-wide moment to breathe freely after the madness -- none of that is applicable here, the place practically uninhabited compared to Sherlock's beloved city. and still, there is at least something to be said about it.

the flat is decorated a bit more lavishly than it had been last year -- no doubt a nod to the fact that there was a child celebrating as well, for whom greater effort should be paid to the sentiment of the season. whether or not Sherlock agrees with this, he's been remarkably complacent about it nevertheless (but he still won't wear the antlers.)

as far as Holmes family tradition dictates, gifts are exchanged on Christmas Eve, and as such it is then that he takes up his violin beside the betinseled tree and puts bow to strings, fills the flat with the familiar tune of Christmas carols.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

John had not expected this level of dedication from Sherlock when it came to decorating for the Christmas season. He was more than happy to oblige him when it came to going a little further for Shinichi's sake. A child should always have the best time at Christmas, after all.

When Sherlock picked up his violin, John had just settled into the living room with mugs of cocoa for everyone and took a seat on the couch to listen to Sherlock play, one of his favourite activities at this time of year. John too enjoyed Christmas quite a lot, and was happy to be festive, and especially in such good company.

After one song is complete, Sherlock peeks out at his audience -- still only John. He aims the tip of the bow at him and says, "Requests?" with a tip of his head.

John sits back in his seat, hands folded neatly and politely in his lap. He'd have much preferred Christmas at Baker Street, but here was nice, too, all things considered, and with Sherlock here, sometimes he could barely tell the difference.

"How about, 'God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen'? Also, would you like to exchange gifts before or after our guests arrive? I know you hate the embarrassment."

"You've only got me the one," Sherlock points out. "Might as well save it."

He does, however, move both violin and bow to hold in one hand and crouch down to pull out a flat, stiff package from under the tree, then thrust it out towards John. "You should open this one, though. Before anyone -- before." The other gifts for John are either deliberately silly or comparatively more traditional -- if there was anything to get embarrassed over, it would be the certificate.

Thus delivered, he stands and begins the song for John.

"You've got expensive taste. I didn't want to disappoint you." John gives him a small smile and blinks at the outstretched package. "What's this?" He hadn't exactly been expecting multiple gifts, but as Sherlock began to play, John carefully opened the gift. It took him a long moment to realise that it was not in fact the original copy he'd owned back at Baker Street, but in fact a very, very good copy.

"Blimey, Sherlock... Is this--? How in the world did you manage this?" He looks up from his certificate to Sherlock, the familiar look of wonder and awe in his friend that he wore each time he did something new and spectacular. "This.. must've taken you ages..."

"Forgery is an incredibly useful skill," says Sherlock over the music, "both for identification and investigating. It wasn't that hard." His mouth twists into a little half-smile, though, as he preens noticeably under the attention. "Just thought you might want something in case anyone tries to say you're not a real doctor."

"Very thoughtful of you, Sherlock. Thank you." John looks back to the certificate, concluding that, yes, this probably should have been given in private. No detail had been spared from the look of it. Finely crafted... even the texture of the paper seemed the same... and the embossing...

John propped up the stand and set it out on the coffee table so that he could sit back and listen to his best friend play. "You can be surprisingly sweet and sentimental when you really want to be, you know. Shame every day can't be Christmas."

Sherlock rolls his eyes dramatically, turning away to hide his smile getting wider as he continues the song. "Don't be absurd, John. What would you have to look forward to?"

Well, the moment couldn't last forever. John laughs a little and shakes his head before letting out a small, defeated sigh. "What, indeed? Other than your good attitude, I suppose."

"It wouldn't be special if it were every day," Sherlock says, deliberately parroting the kind of disciplinary line of an adult scolding a greedy child. He punctuates it with a quick smile, however, then shuts his eyes to continue the music uninterrupted.

John takes a long moment to admire the sweet gift that his friend had made for him and finally closes his eyes to thoroughly enjoy the music until their guests arrive.

Surprise! Everyone's favorite ~~mommy~~ Dominatrix come to visit for the holidays.

At least, she was trying to. She lingered on the doorstep, a bit uncomfortable, raising her hand to knock and then .. lowering it again. Christmas hadn't exactly been a large affair in the Adler household, when she was growing up and.. she had no reason to think that she would be welcome. Sneaking in to 221B and leaving Sherlock a gift was different than actually .. showing up and expecting to be welcomed with open arms.

Her lips thinned into a line, she steeled herself, raising her arm and knocking sharply three times. Ridiculous! The worst that could happen would be they would turn her away. She was better than this stupid, foolish, absolutely idiotic fear.

The knock is familiar -- though even if it weren't, it would hardly be difficult to deduce who could possibly be at their door -- so Sherlock is perfectly at ease in calling, "Door's open!" over the violin perched on his shoulder, as he wraps up a song.

Oh, fine, be that way, Sherlock. She can hear the violin through the door, finishing when she opens it, and fixes her face to a comfortable mask. He didn't need to know that she wasn't exactly certain she ought to be here! In her hands, however, is a covered plate.

She had been hoping Sherlock would be out.

"Happy Christmas," she calls back, shrugging off her large coat. "Where shall I put food, then?"

Wow. This is surprisingly normal.

Hearing Irene enter, John immediately hops up from the sofa to help Irene with her plate. "Please, allow me. Happy Christmas." He regards her with a smile and a polite incline of his head. "Can I get you something to drink? We've got wine, brandy, hot chocolate, coffee. Whatever you like."

At the sound of Irene's voice, sharp little blue eyes tear themselves away from a book and look her over without saying anything, he might have gotten up to help from where he laying on one side of the couch, but then John did so he stays propped up on his arms, reading what it probably a new book that he's already three-quarters through. He'll acknowledge everyone in a minute-just as soon as he's done with this next chapter.

He's feeling just a bit awkward about the whole christmas thing and buries himself further into his book. He's not used to it. He's not even that used to family, really. His parents loved their superficial parties and loved to travel and they just weren't usually around. Maybe they would have been if Christmas had been as important there as it seemed to be here.

Oh, good, John. You know, the one she'd had the entire conversation that spurred the plate with. Pulling off a bit of the tinfoil, she reveals carefully decorated, delicate Christmas cookies; home made, by the looks of it. Ordinarily she didn't celebrate Christmas or Yule or anything really associated with it; perhaps she had Kate over for a bottle of wine, occasionally she'd be working for a high profile client. But if they were getting into the spirit, she certainly didn't want to participate half-hearted.

"Wine would be nice, if you don't mind," she offers with a smile of her own, still with an edge to it. Spotting Shinichi on the couch, she can't help but sidle over and settle herself next to him, eyes moving from Sherlock to the younger boy. "Having a nice Christmas, then?"

"If a bit dull," Sherlock says, without any real concern, gesturing John towards the bottle of red on the table. "Oh, by the way, John says the mantle is to be used for cards only this year, but I've cleared a spot for you anyway if you'd like." Only the faint creases around his eyes speak to his intention as a joke between them.

"Sherlock, be nice. It's Christmas." Clearly, he didn't get the joke. "I think we've had enough excitement these last few days to have earned a nice, quiet Christmas." John takes one of the biscuits from the plate before setting the thing on the table to go and make Irene's glass. "I think even the island needs a reprieve from torturing us for a little while, don't you think?"

Irene, on the other hand, most certainly did and her smile turned a bit wicked. Sherlock? Teasing? Perish the thought. But it was a good sign that he was willing to make the attempt; she wasn't going to be turned out of the house for daring to come here on Christmas.

"Perhaps you'll save that for after I exchange gifts with you. As I recall, you rather enjoyed the last Christmas gift I gave you," she replied, eyes settling on Sherlock's violin. Ah, yes, she hadn't actually heard him play, not in person. Not even the song he'd supposedly been composing for her.

"Nope," Sherlock drawls, popping the P and smiling cat-like at John, "sorry, you mustn't be greedy. You can pick one, nice and loud or rude and quiet." As John passes, Sherlock reaches out and snaps off a piece of his cookie to eat. He does notice Irene glance at the violin as he tucks it back into place, but only says, "I only hope you didn't have to try too hard to outdo yourself this year. Only I don't know what I'd do with another mobile."

She eyes him with the cookie, which will obviously be homemade - if he makes a move to bother her about it, he'll only get a sphinx's smile. She might tell John that she cooks, but it's certainly not relevant for Sherlock. "If I do tell you to be quiet, will you actually listen?" She muses at him, taking a generous sip of her wine. "Somehow I doubt it."

Irene glances around for her presents and then shrugs her shoulders. "Oh, I think I've been .. infinitely more creative this year."

Shinichi is just finishing up another chapter in his books and finally decides to close it, sitting up and scooting closer to Irene incase someone else wants to sit down. He hadn't really been paying much attention to what everyone else has been saying but no one should be surprised there, they should be surprised he's decided to join the conversation at all.

He still feels horribly out of place, they all three are very well acquainted with each other and shows very prominently in their conversation or maybe he's just really feeling the culture difference. Whatever it is, it has him itching to open his book up again and bury his nose but he won't. He likes them enough that he really does want to be included.

"Can I have one?" He means one of the cookies.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

the most hilariously-timed backdated action post

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject