That night the case lays forgotten, instead Sherlock lays in bed and stares blankly at the ceiling. Finally after a long silence he whispers something to me, "I don't love him becuase love is only for people not like me." With that cryptic sentiment he falls fast asleep. As the Christmas holidays edge closer Sherlock is aglow with excitement. A few days after the dance with John he says solved his first case, both reassuring his dream of being a detective and giving him an amazing story to tell Mycroft when he visits for the holidays. Christmas also means shopping for presents. A task Sherlock never bothers with, however this Christmas is different. He wants to get something special for John. On a blustery day we head into the city once more, to explore the various stores and the wonders held within. The sky is dark with clouds but the streets around us are bright. The spirit and happiness surrounding us is nearly tangible. Even Sherlock, who was becoming increasingly reserved as he got older, couldn't help but smile at the shoppers rushing by. Light snowflakes fall down around us like drifting feathers and Christmas lights and glowing street lamps illuminate our path. One store front in particular drew Sherlock close. The store was modest but extravagantly decorated with a fresh wreath on the door and red Christmas lights perfectly framing a view of the merchandise within. Sherlock took one look and turned to me saying. "Redbeard it's perfect." I wait outside while he makes his purchase and when he returns he has that wonder in his eyes that I remeber back from our days of playing pirates. That's when the truth of the holidays really made sense to me. Humans are so amazing becuase they take the coldest and darkest days and turn them into something beautiful. They create magic with a few electric bulbs. For a brief time the idea that you cannot talk to those who pass you by dissipates, in the darkest days people reach out and for a few glistening moments the walls we all learn to build fall down.
