The Art Of Corruption ~ A BBC Sherlock Fanfiction {Book III}

Chapter 69- I See It All

Millie's POV

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"There," says Mary, stepping away from the row of small, gold lights pinned above the doorway. "How's that?"

I look around our apartment, quietly satisfied. Mary and I have taken it upon ourselves to increase the festivity of 221B Baker Street, and we have been at work for the majority of the afternoon; purchasing ornaments, assembling a tree, hanging strings of miniature bulbs from the cornice, ensuring that the room is washed with a liquid lustre when the lights are off. John remained with Addy for the duration of our self-appointed mission, adamant that he could manage without the 'motherly instinct' Mary claimed was inaccessible to those of the male gender - only to find himself at an utter loss as to what to do when Addy refused to settle down. He arrived at Baker Street two hours later, forlorn, exhausted, and smelling suspiciously of soured milk.

Initially, Sherlock was vehemently against the idea of a newborn baby shattering his sphere of contemplation, and sat in stony silence for a good thirty minutes in protest, refusing point-blank to interact with the child. However, after John hurriedly placed her in his arms in order to aid us with a slowly toppling tree, Sherlock softened considerably; he now sits in his armchair, subdued, a lopsided paper crown atop his head - courtesy of myself - and a sleeping baby on his lap, held awkwardly between tense hands.

"It looks wonderful, Mary," I say, as she dusts her hands down on her trousers. "Truly, it does."

"Good. This place needed some work. I can't believe you two were going to spend Christmas in a dark apartment."

"Festivities are but a tradition designed to appease those in blasphemous denial."

"Always one to lighten the atmosphere."

"You should have seen my brother. Christmas was a nightmare. My mother tried to get him involved - told him she'd buy him the first edition set of Oxford encyclopaedias if he made an effort that year."

"Did he?" I ask, taking John's armchair.

"He refused to leave his bedroom," says Sherlock, smiling wryly at the memory. "I got the encyclopedia set instead. That was a marvellous Christmas."

Mary returns to take Addy back, picking her up from Sherlock and carrying her to the sofa, seating herself beside John - who is currently attempting to unravel the discarded tree lights.

"I would have paid to witness a Christmas in the Holmes household."

"They were exceptionally uneventful."

"I think you and I have very different definitions of the word uneventful." Mary nods at me, her arms full. "What are your plans for tomorrow?"

"I'm sorry?"

"For Christmas. You and Sherlock. What are you doing?"

I look to Sherlock for an answer, but his attention has shifted from the conversation to his violin.

"Nothing special," I reply, truthfully.

"You have no idea, do you?"

"Well, no, it's just-"

"Why don't you two come over? Christmas meal, and all that. John and I would love the extra company?"

"We would?" says John, startled, looking up from the coil of wire in his hands.

"We would," confirms Mary sharply, on his behalf.

"Don't worry about us."

"I insist."