Work Text:
“…According to old myths Druids believed it performed miracles, from providing fertility to healing diseases and protecting people from witchcraft.” – Nana Martha answered while skyping from her sister’s house.
“Well, outside of the obvious use…Medical research has found substances in mistletoe that can slow down tumor growth and these are being investigated - which suggests, there may be a scientific basis in this folklore myth. Extracts of it have been shown to kill cancer cells in the laboratory and to stimulate the immune system. However, there is no evidence from well-designed clinical trials that mistletoe or any of its components are effective treatments for human cancer.” – Mr. Mike answered while Aunt Molly went to the ladies room.
“Frigga, the Norse goddess of love, was the mother of Baldur, the god of the summer sun. Something happened, and Baldur was accidentally killed with mistletoe. The sky grew dark and all things in earth and heaven wept for the dead sun god. For days all on earth and under it tried to bring Baldur back to life. Finally, it was Baldur’s mother, the goddess Frigga herself, who resurrected him. It is said the tears she shed for her son turned into the pearly white berries on the mistletoe plant and in her overwhelming joy of having saved her son, Frigga kissed everyone who passed beneath the tree on which it grew. Thus, it came to be that if anyone should ever stand under a mistletoe, no harm should befall them. Instead they get a kiss as a token of love.” – Aunt Molly answered while babysitting that afternoon.
“Mistletoe is a despicable parasite that clings to other living beings (mostly trees), sucking life out of them in order to insure their own survival.” Mycroft rolled his eyes as he exited the sedan.
Sherlock and John were in New York City on a case for Mycroft. They had been delayed coming home after a very bad snowstorm had closed the airports for a couple of days. They were finally airborne, but it would be several hours before they were home. Mrs. Hudson had already gone upcountry to visit her sister for the holiday week. Lestrade was on a high-profile homicide case. Molly’s mother was badly hurt in car accident and Molly had to leave. Even Anthea was on the rare holiday visiting her family. The Iceman had no choice but to retrieve the little girl from Dr. Hooper’s residence and wait with her at Baker Street until John and Sherlock returned.
As with everyone else she had asked him the same question, “What is mistletoe?”
Mycroft was the only one who had question for the six-year-old in return, “Why do you ask, Rosamund?”
“Because when I skyped with Papa the other night, I don’t think Papa had signed off right. I heard Papa talking to his friend in New York City. He said that if every centimeter of the ceilings in 221b had mistletoe, he would not get a kiss.” the little girl skipped on the pavement from the sedan to the door of 221B. “He sounded a little sad, so I want to get him mistletoe.”
“Oh, leave it to me, Rosie dear. I’ll be delighted to take care of it for you.” Mycroft grinned.
><><>-<><><
“Oh, are you back already? Little Rosamund is already asleep.” Mycroft looked up innocently from his laptop as Sherlock and John opened the door to their flat.
Sherlock and John looked around, looked at each other, looked around again, looked at each other again and then burst out laughing. The ceilings in 221b were fully covered in the plant.
If Mycroft had smugly thought an argument was in the making because of it, he thought wrong.
Mycroft quickly packed his electronics and departed without another word when Sherlock pushed John against the door frame and kissed him soundly. John clearly had no objections as he returned the kiss with equal fervor.
John snickered as the downstairs door closed behind Mycroft. “I don’t have the heart to tell him the coquito beat him to it.”
“Then don’t. We packed a couple of bottles to bring, let’s invite ourselves to Mycroft's and bring Lestrade to share it with them,” Sherlock suggested. “What could happen?”