Festivities and Fruitcakes

December 24

December 24: “Midnight Mass.” (from Lucillia)

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“Watson, are you sure this is a good idea?” Holmes whispered to his friend.

“Yes, I do. It can only do them good,” was Dr. Watson’s reply.

The two were walking down the cold London street, surrounded by twenty-odd boys, all clad in their best attire—which admittedly, was very shabby, but they carried themselves as respectably as if they wore the finest garments England could offer.

“I am more worried about you,” the detective muttered. “It’s rather a long walk in this weather, and your leg—”

“Doctor!” exclaimed a small freckled boy, tugging on Watson’s coat. “Are we almost there yet?”

“Almost,” returned Watson, patting the boy tenderly on the shoulder.

“Don’t you worry about my leg, Holmes,” said Watson softly, shaking his head. “I shall be all right, and even if I wasn’t, it would be well worth it to get these boys to church. They need a little of God’s light in their lives, and if we can help them to find it, than it is well worth a little pain.”

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The group received more than their share of attention from those already in the church. Several very well dressed women turned up their noses at the sight of the children while their husbands found something very interesting to stare at in the opposite direction.

Another man, on the other side of the church smiled when they walked past him in search of a seat. The small boy next to him handed his gloves to Henry, who had none.

“Thank you,” whispered Henry gratefully. “Are you sure?”

“I have another pair at home, I don’t need them,” the other boy said. “Happy Christmas.”

Henry beamed and thanked the boy again. After the group had passed, the boy’s mother kissed him on the head.

Holmes, Watson and their young friends had arrived early enough to find a large enough empty space a few pews from the back. All together, they took up two full pews.

An elderly couple arrived just two minutes before church began, and John and Eddie gave up their seats for them and stood by the wall.

Halfway through the service, a very small curly-haired girl in a dark blue dress crawled up from the pew behind them, and began tugging on Eddie’s trouser leg. When she looked up, and saw no familiar faces, she began to cry.

Eddie carefully scooped up the girl, turned around and handed her back to her mother. The woman’s first reaction seemed to be shock at the scruffy appearance of the boy in front of her, but then she smiled warmly.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Merry Christmas,” Eddie whispered back.

By the end of Mass, four of the boys had fallen fast asleep, and most of the others were well on their way in that direction. Those four were carried by Holmes, Watson, and the two oldest of the boys: James and Wiggins.

It was well after two-thirty by the time Holmes and Watson had delivered all of the boys to their homes, and nearly three when they reached their own rooms in Baker Street.

“Tired, Watson?” asked the detective, yawning widely. They had taken their seats by the fire so that they could warm themselves a little before bed.

Watson smiled sleepily. “Yes, I suppose I am,” he replied.

“You were right,” Holmes said. “This was a good thing to do for the boys.”

“Yes indeed,” replied Watson. “Merry Christmas.”

“And the same you as well, my dear Watson.”