Holiday Stand-Alones - GEN
A moth-eaten Santa suit* - 3 Dec 12
John hadn't planned on going into Harry's attic. She'd sent him up for decorations for her tree. Trying to be the good brother to his working-so-hard-to-be-sober sister, he'd climbed the steep attic staircase.
He pulled the cord on the bare bulb hanging from the low ceiling, then opened the first box he saw labelled "X-mas". The smell of old wool and rot struck him, followed immediately by his last happy childhood Christmas memory: Dad absent; Mum laughing with Aunt Jo; baby Harry asleep; Grandpa dressed as Father Christmas.
He lovingly patted the moth-eaten red coat, and carefully closed the box.
Haggis Hunt** - 27 Dec 12
Sherlock caught sight of John's laptop screen and was genuinely at a loss. Ten thumbnail images on the left. One large image to their right. And in the large image, before John clicked a small blue button, a night-vision picture of Edinburgh castle with … a giant tailless platypus?
Text appeared. A letter? He clicked again. Less text and a link. Another click. Back to that same bizarre image.
John kept clicking through the succession of links until the image changed to simply the castle esplanade, a few cars, and rain.
"John? What are you doing?"
Hot Buttered Rum - 28 Dec 12***
"Why don't you just call it a hot toddy?"
"Because the recipe calls itself Hot Buttered Rum."
John plopped a heaping spoonful of the hot buttered rum batter (Shockingly, they'd had the ingredients on hand.) into each of two large mugs and stirred in boiling water, melting everything together. Next came dark rum (courtesy of Mrs Hudson) and a splash of cream. It smelled divine and he was sure the sweet drink would overcome Sherlock's objections. Especially on such a cold day. The power was out at 221b, but he had his Smartphone (for the recipe) and Bunsen burners (to heat the water).
Sherlock was curled up in his dressing gown and a wool blanket by the fire, a box of fresh tissues to one side and a small rubbish bin with the used ones to the other.
"Here you are." John held out a mug and Sherlock extricated an arm from its coverings to take it from him. "Careful. It's hot."
"Obviously." A sick Sherlock was a petulant Sherlock.
John ignored the remark, cutting him some slack for feeling so miserable. He sipped his own drink, watching Sherlock warily watching him. "It's not poisoned. You'll like it."
Sherlock finally took a careful swallow and his eyes widened in pleased surprise.
"Keep this recipe."
John nodded. "Brilliant."
Corkscrew* - 30 Dec 2012
Inspired by a Facebook photo meme. You'll know the one
The three men stared at the thing in mute horror. Lestrade was the first to speak.
"I think we're cut off."
"Excellent deduction," slurred Sherlock.
John stared at the twisted metal and plastic in his hand. He began to giggle softly.
"Although It is open." Lestrade held out his empty glass.
Focussing hard, Sherlock took the wine bottle John had opened and poured Lestrade and himself another drink. "John? John?"
Giggles turned to hysterical laughter as John regarded the corkscrew embedded in the screw cap from the wine.
"John says he'll forego this round."
"That's probably for the best."
Oh look! I found the meme!
*Thanks to methylviolet10b for the prompts.
Haggis Hunting 2012