A/N: I'm super duper excited to participate in this year's December Calendar Challenge of Awesomeness! Huge thanks to Hades Lord of the Dead, and anybody who's participating this year.

Be warned that my canon knowledge has gotten a little dusty over time, but I do still intend to keep things as in-character and entertaining as possible. :)

December 1: "Norbury." (from Madam'zelleGiry)

Holmes's POV

I had been restlessly pacing the length of the sitting room for exactly one hour, twenty-three minutes and forty-eight seconds, and was starting to grow more than a little anxious. I had fallen asleep on the settee around noon, and awoken around a quarter to three to find that Watson had gone out, leaving a note on my desk:

Holmes,

Gone out to do a little Christmas shopping. It's two o'clock now, and I won't be more than two hours.

Watson.

It was now nine minutes past four. Watson's note had had specifically stated that the two hours was an upper limit to the length of time he expected to be gone, and not an approximation that might vary in either direction!

I took a deep breath, and reminded myself that Watson had no doubt merely stopped to talk to someone. He was quite the gregarious fellow, especially around Christmas.

I grimaced as I realized that my pipe had gone out, and apparently had been that way for some time. Cursing, I dug in my dressing gown pocket in search of a book of matches.

I knew full well that the fellow didn't like me worrying like this, but I really hadn't wanted him going out while I was on this case.

I carefully attempted to extract a match from the box. Blast! My hands were shaking.

I highly doubted Garnett would stoop low enough to attempt to use my Boswell as leverage against me, but as I checked my watch for the umpteenth time and still heard no slamming of the front door and no familiar tread upon the stairs, I began to second guess my assessment of my adversary.

There! A small flame danced on the end of the match, and I carefully relit my pipe.

No, I was simply being ridiculous. Garnett was too cowardly, and besides, Watson could hold his own in a fight.

I threw the remaining portion of the match into the fireplace.

If my old friend was indeed all right, and returned home safely, I was going to kill him.

I glanced once more at the hall clock, and then strode to the window with the best view of the street. The sun had set, and the lamps were lit. The street was busy, with people scurrying too and fro, eager to find shelter and warmth from the brisk December air. No where on the street did I spy the familiar form of my friend.

Hm, that was peculiar. A boy was quietly lurking in the shadows near a parked cab across the street, and appeared to be watching my own front door. The street urchin looked familiar; more than likely he was one of my Baker Street Irregulars. But what was he doing watching my door?

All thoughts of the boy fled my mind when I saw a man in a brown coat with a slight limp climbing out of a hansom cab. There was my Watson! But as he paid the cabbie, I noticed another boy, this one quietly off the back of the cab and nonchalantly strolling away, carefully avoiding Watson. How very, very peculiar.

I had not moved from my position at the window when Watson entered the sitting room.

"Hello, Holmes," he said from behind me.

I whirled around. "You are eleven minutes late."

He sighed as he began to remove his winter clothing and warm himself before the fire. "I apologize for worrying you, old fellow. But it is hardly my fault that the streets were so horrible. It took three times longer to go anywhere than it would have in warmer temperatures."

"Then you ought to have waited for warmer temperatures to do your shopping. Did you notice anything peculiar?"

Watson froze in the middle of removing a boot, and stared at me, looking taken aback. "Well…"

"Well, what?" I demanded.

"I am sure it was only my imagination, but I had the strangest feeling that I was being followed." My friend frowned.

"By whom?"

"By several of our Irregulars."

I nodded slowly. "I was rather afraid you would say that. I saw two of the boys on the street. One appeared to be watching the house, and the other had been on the back of your cab, even as you arrived here."

"But why would they do that?"

I swallowed hard. "I suspect that Garnett has paid them to spy on us."

"Not our boys!" Watson exclaimed. His expression of fear and disbelief no doubt matched my own.

"I can see no plausible alternative," I said grimly.

"If this is the case, then what are we to do?" My Boswell asked, his voice shaking as he shivered.

"I shall go speak to the boy still across the street, and you, my dear Watson, will stay here and warm yourself."

"Thank you," my friend replied, as I began to search for my gloves. As soon as I was bundled in all of my winter gear, I descended the stairs, and stepped outside before I could change my mind about braving the cold. Brr! It was no wonder Watson was still shivering!

Hunching over in an attempt to retain warmth, I crossed the street to where the boy still stood in the shadows. His eyes grew as wide as sovereigns as I approached, and he took a step back.

"Good evenin', Mr. 'Olmes," he said nervously.

"Good evening, David," I replied. "Is there a particular reason you and your friends are spying on Watson? Has someone paid you off?"

"Paid us off?" the boy scoffed indignantly. "Cor! What d' yew take us for? We'd never take money to spy on the Doctor, or anything loike that!"

"Then what is all this about?" I demanded.

"We was only tryin' to figure out what 'e wants for Christmas!"

I opened my mouth to speak, then stopped. "Wait, what?"

The boy rolled his eyes. "We was only tailin' the Doctor to find out what he wants for Christmas!"

We were both silent for a very, very long moment.

"Oh." I finally replied. "Well, I am very sorry for misjudging you boys."

David nodded. "It's all roight, no 'arm done."

"I wish you luck in finding out what the fellow does want—I must admit I have had no luck thus far," I said, trying to make my tone as warm as possible. I felt rather horrible for thinking they would've agreed to spy on us for some nefarious criminal, when they were only trying to do something kind for Watson!

"Ta, Mr. 'Olmes," the boy replied.

I nodded. "Now, we'd both better get indoors before we catch a cold. Do you have somewhere to go?"

"Yes I do," he replied. "I'm stayin' with Tom's grandma these days."

"Good. I shall see you another day, then."

"Good-bye," he said, throwing me a crooked grin.

"Good-bye," I replied, and could not help but smile back.

I was still smiling when I returned to the sitting room, and laughed aloud as I threw my coat over the back of a chair and undid my bootlaces.

"What is so terribly funny, Holmes?" Watson asked from his seat before the fire, his voice exasperated.

I found that I was laughing too hard to speak now, and only waved my hand in response.

"Confound it! What is going on?" Watson demanded. "Get ahold of yourself!"

"Norbury, Watson!" I exclaimed.

"What the devil are you going on about?!"

"It's Norbury all over again! I had it all wrong. The boys haven't been paid by Garnett to spy on us, they were tailing you because they wanted to figure out what you want for Christmas!"

"Good heavens, that's what all this was about?" my friend exclaimed. "And here we thought—" he broke off with a chuckle. "We thought it was something criminal, and it was only about Christmas?"

I had not completely looked him in the face during this exchange, but now I met his eyes. In an instant, we were both laughing uncontrollably at the ridiculousness of the situation.