holmes_minor | Fic: Skating Party: Gen

Title: Skating Party
Rating: Gen
Length: 500
Summary: Watson hosts a skating party for the Irregulars.

“I doubted, Watson, I doubted, but I shouldn’t have doubted,” said Holmes heartily as he approached the bench. He was buried in deep layers, the outermost one, his thickest coat. His breath made a frosty cloud as he spoke.

“I doubted that you could organise a skating party for our young friends.” Holmes pivoted where he stood, waving his thick-gloved hands at the assembly of Baker Street Irregulars who were displaying in a wide range of aptitudes for maneuvering upon the frozen pond. “But you have done it. Well done.”

Watson beamed as squeals and shouts rang out. “It is turning out splendidly. I daresay this is the first time some of them have ever ventured upon the ice, but others are naturals.”

As if to illustrate the point, just then, one young person came whizzing past them, shrieking with glee, followed by two more who were flailing and laughing and clinging to each other for dear life.

“So I see,” said Holmes. “I commend you. It makes for a very cheerful little festivity, especially apt this time of year. Lots of Yuletide spirit in evidence.”

“It is also a reward for a job well done. The Irregulars did excellent work on the Creighton case.”

“Couldn’t have solved it without them,” agreed Holmes. He took a seat by Watson on the bench. “Are you going to take a turn out there?”

“No. I prefer all my bones intact.”

“Aw, but surely,” protested Holmes.

One young person flew at them, then halted expertly on bladed boots just before the bench. “Hullo, Mister Holmes. Doctor Watson, might I have another seedcake?”

“You might,” replied Watson amiably. He produced the requested treat from a paper cone.

“Thank you!” The young person departed leaving a wake of scrape and a spray.

“Look there,” said Holmes, pointing.

Watson smiled. There were a flock of sparrows beside the skating pond, happily partaking of the bits of seedcake which had escaped the children’s fingers.

“A shared festivity,” said Watson.

“I am not just here of my own volition. I am on a mission. Mrs. Hudson wanted me to tell you that the mince pies are out of the oven, and the cider is ready, so you are welcome to return to Baker Street whenever you and your merry throng desire it.”

“I think it will be difficult to pull them away before dusk.”

“I told her as much, and she saw the wisdom of that, but dusk will fall quickly.”

“True.”

“So why don’t we have that turn on the ice? And share in all the fun.”

“Oh, Holmes.”

With a chivalrous gesture, Holmes stood and extended a hand. Encouraging cheers were heard from the ice.

“Very well,” relented Watson, setting the cone of seedcakes on the bench. He got to his feet, taking Holmes’ hand and shouting in a good-natured, but stentorian voice, “If I injury myself, I will conscript you all as a bearer party to carry me back to Baker Street!”

“Come, Doctor Watson!”