A/N: I've broken my own word because none of my other attempts at creating something for Christmas this year came to fruition. And so I offer up this story as my Christmas cheer for the Downton Abbey fangirls. Merry Christmas everyone and a most wonderful 2017!

The Mistletoe Protocol - 1926

Thomas looked up from his ledgers at the soft knock on his pantry door and an amused smile graced his lips at the muffled giggles that followed.

"Hmm, I wonder who that could be," he spoke loudly, opening the door to a cascade of bodies tumbling to the floor at his feet. The tangle of arms and legs sorted themselves into the forms of Master George, Miss Sybbie, and Miss Marigold. "And what brings you three to my pantry?"

"It's time, Mr. Bawwoah!" lisped young George Crawley holding out a large sprig of mistletoe tied to a pine bough with a bright red ribbon.

"Are you sure?" he asked, pulling his brows together and turning down the corners of his mouth into a mock frown. "Let me just check the calendar." He turned towards his desk to hide the smile that threatened to give him away. Turning back he found three small heads nodding so vigorously they might have nodded right off their shoulders if they hadn't been fastened on. "Would you look at that! You're right Master George!" The three peered very seriously at the calendar held out in front of the butler of Downton Abbey, pretending to read the block letters circled in red on today's date: MISTLETOE PROTOCOL.

A movement in the doorway caught his eye and he saw the figure of Mrs. Hughes standing in the hall fastening her coat and pulling on her gloves. She was gazing at the children, a wistful look on her face. Catching her eye, he smiled and gestured for her to join them.

Giving the young man a watery smile, she shook her head and replied, "I'm off for my half-day, Mr. Barrow. Mrs. Patmore has everything ready in the kitchen when you've finished."

"Thank you, Mrs. Hughes. We'll see you in the morning then." He watched as she turned and walked briskly out the back door. Looking down into three eager faces, he bit his lower lip and then nodded firmly before reaching out to close the door of his pantry.

~ o O o ~

She wiped her hands on her apron after finishing the lunch dishes and went in search of her husband. He'd been a bit down in the mouth of late and she was fairly certain she knew why. This was their first Christmas since his somewhat forced retirement and he was missing the fun and excitement of preparing for the holiday.

She found him napping fitfully in the old leather chair that had followed him from the Abbey. Bending at the waist to retrieve the newspaper that had slipped from his grasp and slid to the carpet beside him, she paused to listen to a faint noise coming from the lane outside the cottage. She straightened quickly when she realized the sound was coming towards the cottage.

Ding dong merrily on high, in heav'n the bells are ringing;

Ding dong! Verily the sky is riv'n with angel singing.

She looked down to find Charles staring up at her with bleary eyes. She shrugged as he got to his feet and they made their way towards the front door. Charles opened the door to find a chorus of three moppets singing slightly off-key on his doorstep.

Gloria Hosanna in excelsis!

Gloria Hosanna in excelsis!

"My word! How did you three get all the way out here?!" he exclaimed in genuine surprise. Peering around his shoulder, Elsie squeezed his elbow and pointed. Charles arched a questioning eyebrow at the figure of Thomas Barrow standing a few feet away in the swirling snow motioning for the children to turn and talk to the retired butler.

"We are hewe to obsuhve the Pwotocol," said Master George with a very serious expression on his face. Miss Sybbie held out the pine bough with the mistletoe, while Marigold shyly sucked her thumb. A breeze suddenly gusted by, causing the children to brush the snow out of their faces.

"Well, come in, come in out of the snow, children," boomed Mr. Carson, stepping back to usher them into the cottage parlour. Ever the butler, even in his own home at times, he followed in their footsteps to help the young ladies with their coats and gloves.

"You too, Mr. Barrow," said Elsie waiting for the young man to join her. "Do their parents know where they are?"

Thomas chuckled and followed her into the narrow hallway, closing the door behind him. "Yes, they are out doing a bit of last minute shopping and will stop by to pick the children up on their way home." He stopped beside Elsie standing in the arched opening to the parlor and smiled at the scene before them.

Charles sat in the middle of the settee balancing Miss Marigold on one knee, his free arm wrapped around Miss Sybbie seated beside him, and Master George was leaning against his other knee. Encouraging Marigold to lean back against his chest, he reached around her to take the pine bough from the young Lord's grasp.

"What have we here?" He turned the bough at several angles, pretending not to know what it was.

"Mistletoe!" burst forth from Marigold who then turned to hide her face in his chest.

"Oh yes, I see now. And what are you children doing with such a large sprig of the stuff?"

"We need your help, Mr. Carson," said Sybbie matter-of-factly. "This sprig isn't working and Mr. Barrow said you could help us fix it."

"He did, did he?" Charles fixed Barrow with a stern eye.

"What I said, Miss Sybbie, was that Mr. Carson was the Protocol expert and that perhaps he and Mrs. Carson could help figure out what the problem was," his voice trailed off as he turned to Elsie with a pleading look. Though skeptical of his intentions, she played along to see how the story would play out.

"What exactly seems to be the problem, young lady?" asked Elsie, pulling her chin down to her chest.

"We hung it in the servants' hall like always, but it wouldn't work."

"Mr. Bawwoah stood beside Sybbie and kissed hurw, just like Mr. Cawson did last yeaw."

"I followed the Protocol to the letter, Mr. Carson, but it just didn't feel right," said Barrow apologetically, "I was hoping that perhaps you and Mrs. Carson could show us how it should be done?"

The light dawned on Elsie and she smiled warmly, turning to point up at the archway between the hall and the parlor. "Perhaps you should show us exactly what happened? Hang the mistletoe just there, Mr. Barrow, so we can all see."

Feeling a bit nervous now that his plan was actually in motion, he reached to fasten the pine bough above his head. Turning, he held out his hand toward Sybbie and stood waiting patiently as she reluctantly pulled herself from the comfort of Charles' embrace. Taking his hand, she turned so that they were both facing into the parlor and held her cheek up so that the Thomas could kiss it.

"Ah, I think I see the problem. Eh, Mr. Carson?" asked Elsie, glancing to Charles for confirmation.

Still not quite sure what they were playing at, Charles nodded with a smile at the children and replied, "Yes, I think you might be right Mrs. Carson. Perhaps you could show us how it's done?" he replied with a skeptical smirk.

"Hmph!" she grunted softly with a roll of her eyes. "Well, the key is that the boy is supposed to surprise the girl and catch her under the mistletoe. Like this, could you give me a hand, Mr. Carson?"

"I suppose," he replied grudgingly, handing Miss Marigold up to Thomas and rising with a mock groan at the effort. Elsie moved under the mistletoe and clasped her hands behind her back, scuffing the toe of her shoe against the floorboards as a very young Lady Mary had once done.

Charles stood looking up at the mistletoe for a moment and then smiled warmly at his wife before moving to stand beside her under the sprig. Slipping his arm around her waist, he turned slightly and pulled her closer. He gazed into the depths of her twinkling blue eyes, still amazed at the love that shone back at him, before leaning in to press a soft kiss to her lips.

"Ewwww!" came a chorus of young voices as the three children wrinkled their noses in childish disgust.

Elsie felt Charles chuckle against her lips before pulling back with a laugh of her own.

"You don't have to kiss on the lips, only grownups who are very much in love do that," explained Charles as he gave his wife a small squeeze. "Mr. Barrow, would you like to demonstrate how the children should do it?"

"With pleasure, Mr. Carson," he replied warmly but wiped the grin from his face at the glaring frown from his elder. He moved to stand beneath the mistletoe before leaning in to kiss Elsie chastely on the cheek. "Happy Christmas, Mrs. Carson."

"Happy Christmas, Mr. Barrow," said Elsie returning the kiss.

"Your turn, Master George." Thomas moved out of the archway as George reluctantly but dutifully took his place.

"Happy Chwissmus, Missus Cawson."

"Happy Christmas, Master George." Trying to keep from laughing out loud at the boy's resigned sigh, Elsie leaned down so that he could kiss her on the cheek.

Not wanting to be left out, Sybbie piped up, "It's my turn!" Standing a few inches taller than George, she looked smugly down her nose as she huffed past him to stand expectantly in front of Mrs. Carson.

"Yes, Miss Sybbie," replied Elsie with raised eyebrow, "you may have a turn." She moved to the end of the settee to stand beside her husband and leaned into his side when his arm moved around her shoulders.

Sybbie stood with her arms across her chest as both Thomas and George kissed her on the cheek, the latter, not so surreptitiously wiping his mouth on his sleeve when he finished.

"Your turn, Mr. Carson," the young girl ran over and tugged on his free hand, pulling him under the mistletoe. Squinting one eye and craning her neck to look up at him, she ran to over to the kitchen table and began to drag a chair into the parlor.

"Allow me, Miss Sybbie," Thomas said with a formal bow, taking the chair from the girl and placing it beside Mr. Carson under the mistletoe. He held the back of the chair and watched carefully as she clambered onto the seat and leaned against the ladder-back before turning to Charles for her kiss.

Elsie was trying very hard not to laugh out loud when she felt a tug on her skirt. Looking down she found Marigold clinging to her legs and watching her cousins with wondering eyes. She lifted the child onto her hip and slowly sauntered over to where Charles was helping Miss Sybbie down from the chair.

"Charles," she said softly, placing a kiss to the child's temple when she burrowed her face into Elsie's neck. In turn, Charles leaned in and gently smoothed the child's hair before whispering, "May I have a Christmas kiss, Miss Marigold?" Turning her head slowly so that she didn't lose contact with Elsie's shoulder, Marigold fixed him with wide eyes before nodding her head slowly.

Charles held out his hands and clasped her gently to his chest when she wrapped her small arms around his neck. Walking towards the hallway, he stopped and pointed up at the mistletoe, "You've caught me under the mistletoe." His brows rose almost to his hairline in surprise when she sat up straight to look him in the eye and whisper, "Happy Christmas," before kissing him on the cheek. "Happy Christmas, lass," he chuckled and gently rubbed her back.

Just then they heard a knock and the sound of voices outside the front door. Knowing who it was, Thomas lagged behind to gather up coats and scarves as everyone headed to the front of the house. Opening the door, the Carsons were once again serenaded with Christmas carols.

Joy to the world, the Lord has come.

Let earth receive her king!

Let every heart, prepare him room…

Lady Mary broke free from the group to stand in front of Charles. Reaching into the pocket of her coat she pulled out a small sprig of mistletoe and held it over her head.

"Happy Christmas, Carson?" she asked, a smirk playing about her lips.

"The happiest, m'Lady," he said as he relinquished his hold on Marigold to his wife to kiss Mary Crawley warmly on the cheek. Helping George adjust his scarf and hat, she moved back to sing with the rest of the group.

Let heaven and nature sing,

Let heaven and nature sing…

Edith approached with arms open to place her hands on his shoulders before stretching up on tiptoes to kiss Charles' cheek. Turning to take her daughter, she pressed her cheek against Elsie's before saying, "Happy Christmas to both of you."

"Happy Christmas, your Lady…" Elsie paused at the reproachful look she received. Raising her own eyebrow in challenge she finished softly, "Marchioness of Hexam." Edith rolled her eyes and laughed before nodding her head in acknowledgment.

When Edith had rejoined the carolers and they finished their song, Tom Branson looked hesitantly at the Carsons and then moved quickly to stand beside Elsie. "My turn!" he exclaimed with a boyish grin.

"Now we know where Miss Sybbie gets it from," grumbled Carson, placing his large hand gently atop the girl's head when she squeezed between them to stand in front of her father.

Tom's brow furrowed with curiosity for a moment and then he turned his attention to his daughter. "Did you have a good time, sweetheart?"

Sybbie nodded vigorously before piping up with, "It works, Papa, Mr. Carson fixed it!" Tom swept his daughter up into his arms with a laugh and turned to Elsie.

"Happy Christmas, Mrs. Carson"

"Happy Christmas, Mr. Branson."

"Would someone please explain what's going on?" Henry Talbot exchanged a skeptical look with Bertie Pelham.

"The Mistletoe Protocol!" exclaimed the rest of the group in unison.

Bertie was listening when Marigold whispered something into his ear. Pulling back to look down at her in disbelief he repeated, "The mistletoe was broken?" His daughter nodded her head solemnly.

"I'll explain later," said Lady Mary in loud stage whisper. "The mistletoe is never hung at Downton Abbey without testing it first. It's a tradition." Bertie was still skeptical when Branson held out the now limp sprig of mistletoe to him.

"Mrs. Carson is awaitin'," said Tom with a grin, laying on his Irish accent.

Looking over at his wife who mouthed the words, "I'll make it up to you," Bertie took the sprig and walked over to kiss Mrs. Carson on the cheek.

"Happy Christmas, your Lordship," said Elsie with a shy smile.

"Happy Christmas," he returned and turned to clasp Charles' hand. "And to you, Mr. Carson." Charles shook the young Marquess' hand warmly as Henry Talbot stepped up to kiss his wife.

It had started to snow in the meantime, and soon everyone was heading towards the motorcar. Elsie watched her husband from the front step as he transformed into the Butler of Downton Abbey, helping the ladies and the children into the car. She felt someone drape a shawl over her shoulders and turned to find Thomas standing behind her.

"Thank you, Mr. Barrow," her voice full of emotion.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said innocently as he turned his collar up against the cold and pulled on his gloves.

Raising an eyebrow to let him know that she knew who had instigated the entire show, she gave his forearm a meaningful squeeze before reaching up to kiss him on the cheek. "Happy Christmas, Thomas, from both of us." Looking at her in mock surprise, he tipped his hat and walked out to take his place in the front seat of the car next to the chauffeur.

After several choruses of "Happy Christmas" and "Goodbye," the motorcar began to move down the lane. Turning to look out the back window, Lady Mary whispered to her husband, "Now that's how you observe the Mistletoe Protocol!"

Henry turned his head just in time to see Charles Carson gather his wife to his chest in a passionate kiss before they disappeared around a curve.