Fic: Christmas Eve: G

[smallhobbit]

Title: Christmas Eve
Form/Word Count: 465
Characters/Pairing: Dr Watson, Sherlock Holmes, Mrs Hudson
Rating: G
Warning/Content: Watson is enjoying his ease when Mrs Hudson demands his assistance.

It was midday on Christmas Eve, and I was relaxing in my armchair, when Mrs Hudson knocked on the door to our rooms and when I opened it said, “Dr Watson, I would appreciate your assistance in carrying a few boxes for me.”

“Of course, Mrs Hudson,” I replied. And stood up ready to help. “You’ll need your hat and coat,” she added.

This seemed somewhat surprising, but I wasn’t prepared to argue; after all, I wanted to enjoy our Christmas dinner, and an upset landlady on Christmas Eve did not augur well for a pleasant festive repast. Accordingly, I carried the boxes downstairs for her. Outside we found Mrs Turner waiting in a cab. I helped Mrs Hudson to load the boxes into the cab and was about to turn away, when she said, “Come along, doctor. We’ll need your help the other end.”

There was nothing for it, but to obey. The cab stopped outside the slightly rundown hall of a nonconformist church. I helped both ladies unload and carried the boxes into the kitchen. Once more I turned to leave but was handed a box of cutlery by Mrs Turner and told to lay the table. There was a long table set up once side of the main hall and began my task only to be told off for failing to put a tablecloth on the table first.

At half past one, the hall began to fill with an assortment of men and women, who eagerly took their places at the table. At that point I was called by Mrs Hudson to assist by taking out filled plates to those seated. Once I had finished, I noticed that there were still three plates left. I was instructed that one was for me, and that I should take it and join the others.

I made no objection, since, by this point, I was feeling hungry, and took my seat amongst the diners. I discovered that these were working men and women who had come up from the countryside, leaving their own families at home. Although they sent money home to their families, they would be unable to join them for Christmas, and this was the ladies’ way of providing them with some Christmas cheer.

I had envisaged having to help wash the dishes afterwards, but several of the women went to help and I was banished from the kitchen. As they were finishing this chore, the door opened, and Holmes came in, carrying his violin. We spent a very pleasant half hour singing carols and then Holmes and I helped the two ladies take their boxes, now empty, back to Baker Street.

Holmes and I returned to our rooms, where Holmes poured us two glasses of port, declaring that Christmas had already begun.