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I had not meant to fall asleep by the fire, knowing full well that sleeping in the armchair was bad for my back, and that Holmes often did not give much thought to the level of noise he was making in the common part of the flat.
Yet I had not wanted to remove myself from the presence of my dear friend, as I knew a quiet evening by the fire was likely as much Christmas as I might get. It was not that he did not care about me or the things I cared about, but that he often forgot about such trivial things as holidays.
I woke slowly to a very quiet shuffling and humming, still pleasantly warm from the fire. I opened my eyes a crack, still feigning sleep, and found Holmes draping greenery around the mantlepiece, Mrs. Hudson standing nearby observing a Christmas tree.
“Your collection of ornaments is very you my dear boy.” She said in a hushed whisper, picking a bird skull up out of a box.
“The second box is Watson’s.” Holmes said, equally quietly. “I imagine he will have proper ornaments.”
“Perhaps,” Mrs. Hudson agreed, “but his is much smaller. I have an excess, I will bring you up a few.”
“Thank you Mrs. Hudson, it is our first Christmas together, and though I had forgotten, I wish to make up for that as best that I’m able.”
It warmed me to know that Holmes had in fact thought of me, and it warmed me further still to know that Mrs. Hudson was aiding him in his quest.
I gently slipped back into sleep, more excited about Christmas than I had ever been since I was a boy, to know that I would spend it with two dear friends such as them.