Hello! This is a short (er) story about Sherlock and John attending a party at Sherlock's mother's house. It is set during Christmas. Slashy, if you don't like, don't read.

Enjoy!

Blue TARDIS Everdeen

Chapter 1: Arrival

"Really, Sherlock, I don't understand why you made me wear this stupid thing," John said, tugging at the place where his tie met his neck. "This thing will choke me to death."

"I don't see what's not to like," said the detective nonchalantly. "I thought it rather suited you."

"But it has a bloody polar bear on it!"

"Precisely," the detective said with a smirk. They were on their way to Sherlock's mother's house for a Christmas party.

"I thought you hated Christmas?" John said when he found the card in the mail.

"I won't miss the chance to humiliate my dear brother in front of mummy," he said with a look of impishness.

John just simply rolled his eyes.

The car stopped in front of a rambling mansion, with every single tree on the lot lit up with Christmas lights.

"Wow!" said John. "Someone sure loves the holidays!"

"Ugh. Dull. Boring." the detective said, striding up to the door. As soon as he got there, the door opened to a slender woman in all red, with a green boa around her arms. She had the same bone structure as Sherlock, with high cheekbones and her black hair was piled on her head, secured with an enormous red bow.

"Sherlock, darling, how nice of you to finally show! I was getting awfully worried!" She embraced the tall man, who paled when she touched him.

"And this must be John," she said, turning to the army doctor. "Any friend of my son is a friend of mine." She embraced him as well, and then flounced away through the door.

What is it about this family and dramatic exits? John wondered in his head.

"Do come in, boys. The table's this way."

As soon as they set foot in the house, they were immediately swarmed with servants, taking their coats, and escorting them to the extravagant dining hall. "Is this your house?" asked John incredulously.

"Hmm? Oh no, this is apparently a Christmas present from Mycroft. Obviously a way to win her over. Pathetic, really."

"Interesting. Am I sensing actual jealousy here?"

"No, I'm just merely stating the fact that he's not going to win Mummy over that easily."

"I see."

They walked into the kitchen, and were suddenly hit by the aroma of the turkey sitting in the middle of the grand table. Immediately, John's mouth started to water.

"This all looks amazing!" he said enthusiastically. "Are you going to actually eat this time, Sherlock? Or is it merely "transport," as you call it?"

"Don't be idiotic, John. Of course I'm going to eat."

"Ah, Dr. Watson, brother. So nice of you to join us," said a voice coolly. Standing by the head of the table was Mycroft Holmes, in a gray suit with an excruciatingly bright red and green tie.

"Certainly not my choice," he said, clearly meaning his tie. "This was a Christmas gift, actually," he said, nodding in the direction of his assistant.

Standing next to him was Anthea, absorbed in her Blackberry, the screen reflecting in her eyes.

"Hello, Anthea. Nice to see you."

"I'm not Anthea today, John," she said, not looking up.

"Uhhh ok. Let me guess...Mary?"

Sherlock gave a snort next to him. "What a dull name."

"No, try again," she said, with a slight laugh.

"Cassandra?"

"Nope."

"Fine, I give up."

She laughed. "Its Holly," she said, picking up a holly branch off the table as if to prove her point.

"Shall we be seated?" asked Sherlock's mother.

"Certainly, Mrs. Holmes."

"Please, call me Verity."

"Fine then, Verity." he said, slightly reddening.

The slender woman was talking to the butler, "Would you please bring out the wine? I'm absolutely parched."

"Of course, Madam." The butler bowed, and then disappeared into the kitchen.

"So, John, I've certainly heard a lot about you."

"Really? Like what kind of things?" he said, glancing over at Sherlock, who was staring down at his plate, acting absorbed in cutting his turkey.

"Like that you recently came home from Afghanistan, and that you were wounded in action. I also know that you have a sister that you don't get on with. I also know she's a drunk, and that she is getting divorced from her wife, whose name happens to be Clara. She also was the one who gave you your phone in your pocket."

John was openly staring at her now, with his mouth gaping. "How...Never mind." I guess the deduction thing runs in the family, along with the dramatic exits.

She smiled thinly. "I also know that you rather enjoy Sherlock's violin playing, and you make tea for him when he seems restless."

Sherlock was making weird noises next to him, clearly drawing attention to himself.

"Did you find out about that by yourself?" he asked, glaring stonily at the detective next to him.

"I have my sources," she said with a wink. And with that, the butler came in with the wine. "Don't drink too much now; I want us to be sober for the presents." Oh bloody hell, Sherlock never told me to get HER a present too! I'll bet he did that on purpose, to make me look like an idiot. Typical.

"This food really does look delicious," John said, diving into the mound of potatoes on his plate. "Better than my mum's but don't tell her I said that."

Just then, Sherlock jolted upright, pushing his chair back. "Please excuse me, I need to get some air."

"You are excused," said Verity, a look of concern on her thin face. "Don't be out too long now, dear. You really must eat something."

"I'll be fine." For extra measure, he grabbed the roll off of his plate, to reassure his mother.

"He really needs to stop flouncing off like that," Mycroft said, sipping on his wine. "It makes him look rather flighty."

"I do hope he's alright. He has barely said anything. Usually when he comes over, he talks endlessly about his cases and well..."

"And what else?" asked John.

"Well, he talks an awful lot about you as well. It seems like you made quite a big impression on my son. Let's hope it's for the better."

John stared at her in disbelief. "I'm sure that's not the case, Mrs. Holmes."

"I told you before, call me Verity." she said, plucking a stray thread off of her perfectly smooth dress. "Go and see what he's up to. I know you're wondering."

"Yes, thank you. I will be back shortly," he said, pushing out his chair and walking rather fast out of the dining hall.

"It seems as though my dear brother has made an impression on Dr. Watson, as well." stated Mycroft.

"Yes, it does indeed."

The tall detective was leaning against the wall outside, smoking a cigarette. When he saw the door opening, he immediately took it out of his mouth and stamped it out on the ground with his foot.

"Ah there you are. You know your mother's worrying a lot about you."

"Why should she? I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

"She's your mother! That's what mother's are supposed to do! What's gotten into you, you were strangely quiet at dinner."

"Oh, just thinking about things." Private things, he said to himself, that I wouldn't like to share at the moment.