A/N: Merry Christmas Hannah! I hope you enjoy this. If you're not Hannah read on, but if you are you can stop now. This is a Christmas present to my friend, the aforementioned Hannah who really loved the characters Martje and Oliver and so I put together this as a series of Christmassy drabbles. There's some John and Sherlock thrown in too. I know I said that the epilogue was the last chapter but I can assure that this will definitely be the last you hear from this story. I hope you all have a wonderful Christmas! –Lidochka x

-O-O-O-O-O-

November 27th

Martje sighed and ate her toast whilst frowning over one of her text books. Oliver sat down beside and draped an arm around her shoulders. "Is everything alright Martje?" Suddenly, it dawned on Oliver. With their exams and everything else going on he'd forgotten that Martje had said about how she wouldn't be able to go home to celebrate Chanukah with her family. What date did she say it started? Oliver couldn't remember but he was quite sure she'd said the 27th December. "Is this about Chanukah?"

Martje nodded and sighed deeply. "Yes, I keep thinking about my family at home. My mum is probably preparing latkes and frying sufganiot. Chanukah is a time for celebrating with family and I can't do that because I have this stupid exam."

Oliver had no idea what Martje was talking when she said sufganiot but he assumed it was food. He promised himself that he would do something to help her. He had no idea what to say to comfort Martje and so he just rubbed her arm and tested her when she asked him to although throughout he was trying to think of ways to celebrate with her.

After Martje had left to take the exam Oliver went straight upstairs to his bedroom to try and find out as much as he could about Chanukah. Normally Martje would go back to The Netherlands over the Christmas holidays and celebrate with her family but Oliver had no idea of what she did for Chanukah.

From his Google searches he decided that he would find a Jewish bakery and get some of the food Martje had spoken about earlier. He was quite sure she had a dreidel in a drawer in her desk and that she had a small menorah she'd been sent by her mother so she could celebrate in England. Happy that he'd found out enough Oliver pulled on his coat and went to find some latkes which was harder than he thought it would be.

Martje checked her watch her watch and sighed, it was very nearly sunset. She seemed to have done that a lot all day. The sun would have set in Leiden now and she couldn't help but imagine her family saying blessings, lighting the menorah and then eating all the fried food they could manage before they spent the evening singing and playing dreidel for chocolate coins.

Taking her key from her bag she unlocked the front door and was surprised to find that Oliver was waiting for her. There was a familiar smell coming from the kitchen she ran forward and hugged him. "Did you get me latkes?"

Oliver nodded and took her hand and led her into the living room where here menorah stood in the window with candles she hadn't seen before. She kissed his cheek and grinned. "Thank you so much. I had no idea you were going to do this."

"Neither did I until this morning." Admitted Oliver and seeing the time on the wall he left Martje to say her blessings.

"Oliver?"

He turned around surprised and stood in the door way. "Thank you. I'm going to teach you how to play dreidel later. Prepare to lose." She laughed and turned back to the menorah.

"I can't even protest because I have no idea how to play." Oliver left the room and went to the kitchen to attempt to cut the Mandelbrot. And so that was how Martje spent the entirety of Chanukah trying and failing to teach Oliver to sing in Hebrew and beating him at Dreidel.

-o-o-o-o-o-

December 18th

'This is a Circle Line train to Hammersmith. The next station is Temple. Alight there for Somerset House.'

Oliver looked over at Martje in horror. "Somerset House? Oh no, we're not going ice skating are we?"

Martje tilted her head to the side and tried not to laugh. "We might be. You know, your deductive skills rival Sherlock's."

Suddenly everything began to make sense. Shaking, his head Oliver sighed. "So, that's why you told me to dress warmly. I can't believe your surprise for me is ice skating. I've been looking for to this evening all week."

"It's not just ice skating. We're going ice skating at Somerset House that's like the best place to ice skate. Everything will be pretty and Christmassy. How can you not be excited?"

Martje had to raise her voice to be heard over the sound of the train but Oliver could still hear the mischievous tone in her voice. "You know I hate ice skating. You knew and yet you still booked the tickets."

Patting the bag on her lap, Martje finally laughed. "And at the moment it looks like money well spent. Stop being so dramatic, Oliver, it won't be that bad. I'll help you."

Oliver huffed, crossed his arms and refused to meet Martje's gaze. "I think I'm going to need it."

'This is Temple. Alight here for Somerset house. Change here for the District Line.'

With an exaggerated sigh Oliver rose to his feet beside a giggling Martje and stepped off the train. "I can't believe you're making me do this."

Linking her arm in Oliver's, Martje rolled her eyes. "Stop being such a drama princess."

Oliver couldn't help but laugh as they walked out of the station. He stooped down to kiss Martje's cheek. "It's drama queen not drama princess."

Leaning into Oliver's side, Martje could feel herself blushing. "Well, I don't think you're majestic enough to be a drama queen anyway."

Oliver didn't have a reply to that and so they walked in comfortable silence until they reached the entrance to the House. Martje handed over the tickets and lead him into the desk for skate higher. After getting their skates they walked over to a bench to put them on.

Frowning, Oliver held up his skates to the light. "Look how sharp these blades are. What if someone skates over my fingers?" He asked, wincing at the thought.

Muttered Martje sighed dramatically. "You are nearly qualified as a doctor and you're going out with a doctor and yet you are afraid of injuring yourself." She shook her head and stood up. "I wonder about you sometimes."

Oliver knew there was no point in protesting. He tied his skates and stood beside Martje before taking her hand. They looked out onto the busy ice rink. "Don't tell me, you're amazing at this. Knowing you, you probably had lessons when you were a kid or something."

"I might have done." The mischievous smile was back as Martje pulled Oliver over to the edge of the ice. "Please try not to fall over. I don't think I'll be able to catch you."

Oliver had to smile this time but it soon disappeared when Martje stepped out onto the ice. She did it with ease and a grace that Oliver knew he'd never be able to achieve.

"Come on, Oliver. You're not going to learn at all if you just stand at the side biting your lip." Martje moved out of the way of an oncoming skater but continued to hold Oliver's hand.

With a sigh Oliver tentatively stepped out onto the ice and nearly lost his footing almost immediately. "Jesus!" He grabbed the side of the rink and let out a shaky laugh. "Well that was terrifying."

Martje, who had been laughing openly throughout skated to Oliver's side and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "That's because you don't have any idea what you're doing. Follow what I do." She pulled away from Oliver and forced him to take his hand from the side. "Push off on your right foot."

Oliver hesitantly put his right foot forward while gripping Martje's hand tightly. Looking up, he smiled. "Was that right?"

Martje frowned and nodded. "Yes of course that was your right foot... Oh, yes you did do that correctly." She laughed and squeezed Oliver's hand before telling his what to do next. "Now, when you finish gliding with your right foot, do the same with your left and make sure you angle your feet diagonally outwards when you do."

Oliver took a deep breath and started off again before moving his left foot. Martje skated beside him and mirrored his feet so that they stayed together. They soon had travelled down one side of the ice rink without any casualties. "There we are. You have it now. I still think you should hold onto my arm because you're balance is nonexistent."

Oliver was too proud of himself to even register Martje's insult. He couldn't look up from his feet to smile back at her when she squeezed his hand because skating was taking up every ounce of coordination he had.

After another half an hour Oliver felt brave enough to let go of Martje's hand. He understood what he had to do, he'd shown that for the last thirty minutes but without the safety of Martje next to him he couldn't help but feel unsteady. He'd just made his way successfully around the rink alone for the first time when the blade of his skates got caught in a dig in the ice and he fell straight onto his knees. Almost instinctively he curled his hands into fists to protect his finger.

Martje watched as Oliver fell and skated over to help him immediately. She wasn't sure whether or not to laugh because if she did Oliver would pull her down beside him. Once Martje got to his side she took his hand and helped him stand up. He almost slipped on the ice again but managed to stop himself from falling forward for a second time. Martje lead him over to the side so he could hold on and stretched up onto her tip-toes so she could kiss him. "Are you alright now?"

Oliver felt his cheeks turning red as a few people stared at them but he quickly tried to forget them. "Yes I'm okay. I think I'm going to have bad contusions on my knees, shins and possibly the palms of my hands but other than that I'll be alright." Oliver chuckled as he said it, knowing he was inviting a snide comment from Martje and she didn't disappoint him.

After rolling her eyes, Martje leaned into Oliver's side but not too closely as she didn't trust his balance. "Anyone would think that you were describing your injuries after falling out of a moving car not tripping over and bashing your knee on the ice."

Oliver laughed and curled an arm around Martje's waist. "You make my terrifying ordeal sound so mundane."

"Princess." Martje muttered playfully before wriggling free of Oliver's arm and skating away. Oliver just sighed and attempted to go after her. It seemed that Martje was going to force him to learn how to skate unaided no matter what happened.

-o-o-o-o-o-

December 23rd

Oliver looked up from the book he was reading at the kitchen table as Martje walked into the room brandishing her phone. "John finally agreed to invite Sherlock to spend our mock-Christmas with us. He said something about wanting it to just be the three of us for tradition's sake but I told him that was nonsense and so he invited him." Martje set her phone down on the table and switched on the kettle, still smiling triumphantly from her victory over John.

"That's great, there's no reason why John shouldn't have invited Sherlock. It's not like we didn't see him every other day before John moved to his flat. What time are they coming?" Oliver got up and took some bread from the fridge to make toast.

"They're coming at twelve. I was hoping to have lunch ready at about one o'clock." She grinned mischievously as she began to get the vegetables from the fridge to peel and chop. "Do you think Sherlock is any good at shucking peas?"

Oliver laughed and put the toast into the toaster before sitting down. "Yes I wouldn't be surprised if he grows his own to reproduce the work of Mendel. You'll have to ask John later."

Martje got the jam from the cupboard and set it down on the table in front of them. "Do you think we'll manage to get Sherlock to play twister?"

"God, I hope so. Can you imagine how he'd be? If you manage to get him to play I'll give you ten pounds."

Martje took Oliver's hand and shook it. "Okay and if I can't get him to play I'll give you ten pounds but you can't go around telling him not play because you want the money. That's not fair."

Spreading the jam on his toast, Oliver laughed. "Don't worry. I can't describe how much I want to see him play." Oliver looked up from his breakfast and tried to imitate Sherlock. "But I can't put my left hand on red, John, it's already on yellow."

"We sound so mean." She hit Oliver's arm gently while giggling before returning to her toast.

"I don't think I could eat another thing." Said John as he set his spoon down and patted his stomach gently.

Oliver nodded; he was in a similar position across the table from John. "Yeah, neither do I."

Martje smiled and stood up to clear the plates and was promptly followed by John. Sherlock sat his chair with his fingers steepled in front of him. Oliver gazed at him curiously before clearing his throat. "Are you alright, Sherlock?"

Sherlock looked up and nodded. "Yes, I'm fine. I was just thinking about how I have never enjoyed a Christmas lunch as much as that one. It wasn't the food because I have eaten better so I'm going to assume it was the company."

Oliver laughed, unsure of whether Sherlock had just complimented him and Martje or not. He stood up to clear away their wine glasses and offered Sherlock a smile. "Well I'm glad you enjoyed it."

Much to Oliver's surprise Sherlock stood up and cleared away the remains of their Christmas crackers and walked with him to the kitchen. "Christmas with my family is always a formal affair we have to finish eating by three o'clock so that we can listen to the Queen's speech. My brother and father insist on it."

They got the kitchen to see that Martje and John had already started the washing up. "Well, you don't have to worry about that today. I think Martje purposefully tries to find the most outrageous games possible."

Martje stopped her conversation with John to listen to what Oliver had to say. "Isn't that the whole point of Christmas? I thought you were supposed to have fun." She smiled at them both and threw a dish cloth at them both before going back to washing the cutlery.

Martje looked to the Christmas tree and then back to Oliver, Sherlock and John who were sitting in their small living room. "So who wants to go first?"

John nodded. "I will my presents for you are the all the same anyway apart from the extra one I have for Sherlock." He stood up and walked to the tree and took out three equally sized parcels. As he handed one to Sherlock he gave him a stern look. "Please don't try and deduce what it is before you open it. It will ruin it for Oliver and Martje."

Sherlock smirked as if he already knew exactly what the present resting in his lap was. "I shall have to try and keep it myself then."

"Thank you." John smiled affectionately at Sherlock before giving out the rest of his presents. "You might as well open them." He said sitting back down beside Sherlock.

Martje opened hers and laughed. It was a garish Christmas jumper that almost rivalled the blue and red one that John was wearing. "Where do you even buy these?"

Oliver laughed as he opened his to find a green jumper adorned with reindeer, snowmen and polar bears. "Seriously John I don't think I've ever seen an item of clothing so... Festive."

John was about to answer their question when his attention was stolen by Sherlock's reaction to his jumper. It was a dark purple colour and was patterned with large snowflakes and black shapes which Sherlock assumed were supposed to be holly. "It's hideous." He stated with a smile. "I might have to wear this on Christmas day."

John laughed and pressed a chaste kiss to Sherlock's lips. "I would love to hear your brother's opinion of it."

"I think it would be most insightful." Sherlock set the jumper down to his side, laughing. "I think you're going to like what I got you."

Sherlock watched suspiciously as Martje laid out a mat on the floor in front of him which seemed to be covered in coloured dots. "What's this? You said we could play scrabble." Sherlock furrowed his brow as John burst out laughing beside him. "Why are you laughing?" He asked, his tone becoming slightly agitated.

John took a moment to pull himself together. "Well, I just can't believe you've never played Twister before."

Martje stood up, pleased with her work. "We can play scrabble later when we have turkey sandwiches. Right, who wants to go first?"

Oliver looked up from the instructions he was reading and couldn't conceal his grin. "It says the youngest should go first so that's you Sherlock."

John pulled Sherlock to his feet and stood beside him. "You just have to follow the instructions and do as the spinner says. Push the button Martje."

Martje pushed the button on the spinner and waited for it to sound.

'Left foot blue.'

"Put you left foot on any of the blue circles, Sherlock." They watched as Sherlock put his foot forward. He frowned and looked over at them questioningly. "What is challenging about that?" Thankfully he didn't notice Oliver slip Martje a ten pound note as he questioned John.

'Right hand green.'

John laughed as he took his turn and sat down on the floor. "Oh, you'll soon find out."

'Right foot blue.'

"I can't do it. I'll fall over." Sherlock stated. He was currently tangled up with John and his foot was stuck right under Oliver's nose. "And if I fall over. We'll all fall over. Please remind me how you find this entertaining."

John was chuckling almost uncontrollably now. "Just move your foot, Sherlock, otherwise you'll be disqualified."

With a sigh Sherlock moved his foot so that it was tangled around John's and they both fell into a heap. Even Sherlock was laughing now as Oliver lost his balance and fell over onto his side. Martje stood up victorious and went to stop the spinner from giving them another command. "Do you understand why Twister is an enjoyable game now, Sherlock?"

He nodded and tried to extricate himself from the John and Oliver unsure of whether John had reached hysteria. "Yes, I think so. It's rather childish isn't it?" He sat down on the sofa behind him tried to catch his breath. "Please may I borrow it? I would like to get my family to play it on Christmas Day."

Martje nodded and pulled Oliver up from the floor. "Yes of course."

"But only if you take pictures of Mycroft while he's playing." Added John as he sat down beside Sherlock and curled an arm around his waist.

Sherlock laughed at the thought of Mycroft trying to beat him at something so trivial. "I most definitely will."

-o-o-o-o-o-

December 24th

Martje clung onto Oliver's sleeve in excitement as they walked towards the Royal Ballet. "Are we going where I think we're going?"

"We might be." Oliver was grateful for his opportunity to be mysterious after Martje tricked him into going ice skating the week before. He'd bought the tickets to the 'The Nutcracker' shortly after the first time they'd met Sherlock and he'd deduced how Martje used to do ballet. It had turned out that she'd been injured and had been told she wouldn't have been able to pursue a career in dancing because of it. Oliver understood why she hadn't said about it. Whenever she did her voice was filled with bitter disappointment, even though she claimed that she'd prefer being a doctor because you could eat what you wanted.

Martje poked Oliver's side as they crossed the road to the theatre. "Just tell me yes or no? It's not fair to keep secrets."

"Hypocrite! That's exactly what you did to me the other day." With an exaggerated sigh Oliver led her up the stairs to the theatre. "Yes, we're going to see 'The Nutcracker'. I thought you might want to go after you told me about how you used to do ballet." Oliver handed over his tickets and they were ushered to their seats which Oliver had made sure were in a prime position.

As they sat down Martje rested her head against Oliver's shoulder. "I can't thank you enough. This is amazing."

Oliver smiled, glad that he could make Martje so happy. Just as he was about to reply the lights dimmed and the safety curtain rose up to reveal Clara's bedroom. He heard Martje breathe out in quiet delight and took her hand as the overture started.

Half way through the first half Oliver heard Martje gasp and say something incomprehensible in Dutch. "What is it?" He whispered, conscious of the other audience members around them and afraid of being shushed.

Martje stared intently at the stage watching a certain dancer- one of the sugar mice. She hadn't appeared to have heard Oliver so he repeated himself. "Are you alright, Martje?" He'd worried before he'd booked the tickets about her feeling wistful about what could have happened if she hadn't have been injured.

She turned to him startled. "Het spijt mij? " She shook her head to correct herself. "Oh, sorry. What did you say?"

Oliver took her hand and looked at her concerned. "Are you okay? You look pale."

Martje shook her head, tried to smile reassuringly and turned back to the stage. "I'll tell you at the interval." She whispered while squeezing Oliver's hand.

As the curtain fell for the interval and the lights came back up Oliver spoke properly. "What were you going to tell me?" Martje hadn't let go of his hand throughout the rest of the act and she got to her feet unsteadily.

"I recognised one of the dancers, that's all." They stood up and walked out of the theatre. "Can we get ice cream?" Martje asked as they found some seats in the lobby.

"Yes, of course. When you say you recognised one of the dancers were did recognise them from?" Oliver dug around in his wallet to find enough money for ice cream from the both of them.

Taking out her purse, Martje got out a pound coin and handed it to Oliver so there would be enough. "I-I used to dance with one of them. We did quite a few pas de deux together and now he's joined the Royal ballet. He's just a junior member of the company but he's still in the Royal Ballet. "

Oliver nodded. That made sense why Martje had spoken in Dutch. "I'm sorry but what's a pas de deux?"

"It's a solo for a male and female dancer. There's one in the next half of the ballet actually." She smiled dreamily. "I used to dance them with Bastiaan at our ballet school. We danced the one from 'The Nutcracker' the Christmas before I was injured." She shook her head trying to shake away the memories.

"Did you want to go and speak to him?" Oliver asked. "We could wait at the stage door after the show finishes."

Martje sighed. "I don't know whether I want to or not. It might just be too weird. We haven't spoken in about three years."

Oliver nodded and stood up to get the ice cream. "You can think about it."

After the ballet had ended and the dancers had taken their final bow to rapturous applause, Martje got up from her seat and turned to Oliver. "I think I would like to go and speak to Bastiaan. It would be nice to talk with him again. We used to be quite close to each other."

With a nod, Oliver stood up beside her. He'd known that Martje would decide to see him in the end because she'd be just too curious to let the opportunity pass. "Alright then, which way is the stage door?

"It's not going to upset you is it?" They'd left the theatre and gone around to the side of the building to the stage door. They were surrounded by teenage girls and boys desperate to meet the first soloists and get autographs but at least they'd leave a junior artist like Bastiaan alone.

Martje nestled into Oliver's side, it was completely dark now and it had got colder since they'd arrived at the theatre. "No, not at all. It would be good to find out how Bastiaan is getting on and who he trained with."

Oliver stooped down to kiss her cheek just as the stage door opened again and the teenagers around them stood to attention. A group of male dancers walked out of the door and ignored the crowds waiting for them, obviously used to being interrogated and then alone left by the young fans. Martje stretched up on her tip-toes before turning to Oliver and taking her hand back from his. "That's Bastiaan!"

Oliver could only watch in bewilderment as Martje sprinted across the street in order to catch up with the man she'd recognised. When he caught up he couldn't help but smile as Martje threw her arms around Bastiaan and then proceeded to speak to him in a torrent of Dutch, spoken so quickly between them that Oliver had absolutely no chance of understanding any of it. He shook his head and pulled his scarf up higher around his neck, they might be there for quite a while.

-o-o-o-o-o-

December 25th

Oliver walked up the familiar path to his childhood home with Martje by his side. They were both wearing the Christmas jumpers John had given them two days previously as well their coats and scarves. Oliver wasn't sure whether to ring the doorbell or use his key. This house didn't really feel like his home anymore and it made him feel nostalgic standing in front of the dark blue front door. In the end he decided to ring the doorbell and he tangled Martje's fingers in his while he waited for his mother to open the door.

As soon as Oliver's mum saw him her face broke out into a huge grin and she wrapped her arms around him tightly. "Ollie! Happy Christmas." She kissed his cheek before seeing Martje smiling shyly over his shoulder. "Oh, Martje dear. I'm sorry for ignoring you."

Martje laughed as she was engulfed in a hug by Mrs. Hornby. "It's okay, I don't mind. Merry Christmas Mrs. Hornby. Thank you for inviting me here."

"Please, call me Susan and it's fine I wouldn't want you stuck in London while Oliver was here with us." Oliver's mum let go of Martje and opened the front door wider for them to come inside. "Come in, you must be freezing after walking all the way from the station."

Oliver couldn't deny that they were so he stepped into the familiar hallway after Martje. Mrs. Hornby took their coats and hung them up on a peg by the door. "How was Chanukah, Martje?"

Martje who was slipping off her shoes smiled. "It was very good thanks to Oliver. I just wish it had come a bit later so I could have spent it with my family but it will be better next year. Oliver said that he might come back to Leiden with me."

Oliver nodded as his mother raised her eyebrows. "I haven't met Martje's parents before and I'd like to." Seeing several other pairs of shoes next to his own he looked up. "Who else is here already?"

"Uncle Steven, Grandma Helen and your brothers. Joseph, kirsty and little Scott aren't here yet but they said they'd be here soon. Can I get you two a drink?" Oliver's mum walked into the kitchen as she spoke.

"No it's fine, mum, I can do it." Oliver walked with Martje over to the counter top and poured her them each a glass of mulled wine.

"That's good I can have a sit down, then."

As soon as Oliver's mother disappeared into the living room Martje smiled and sipped her drink. "I've forgotten who's who. Your brothers are Samuel but you call him Sam, William but you call him Will and Joseph who is married to Kirsty and then Scott is your nephew."

Oliver laughed and leaned against the counter. "Yes that's right. It's okay; I have no idea who is who in your family. You have far too many cousins, Uncles and Aunts. I'm going to have to learn before next year. We should go into the living room and sit down otherwise my grandma might start insinuating about what we're doing in here."

"Alright." Martje laughed and followed Oliver into the lounge where they were greeted by his family.

After saying hello to everyone, Oliver sat Martje down next to his grandma who smiled at them both. "How is medical school going, Ollie dear?"

Martje had no idea why but whenever any of Oliver's family referred to him as Ollie it was a struggle not to laugh. She might have to start calling Oliver that to annoy him.

"It's going quite well. We just had our exams so everyone's just happy they're over and the hospital is always manic." Oliver squeezed Martje's hand and smiled at her. "I don't know if I'd have been able to pass the exams without Martje's help."

Grandma Helen was about to say something which Oliver was sure would have been innuendo-filled and inappropriate in reply just as his mother got up from her chair to go to the front door.

Oliver watched his mother leave. "I think Joseph, Kirsty and Scott are here."

Oliver was proven correct when a small boy of about two toddled through the door before sitting in the middle of the room and staring innocently at everyone. A woman ran in after him and laughed when she saw where he was. She looked around the room and smiled. "Hello everyone." She was followed by a man that look startlingly similar to Oliver but his hair was blonde instead of dark brown. He must have been Joseph.

Oliver stood up and hugged his brother before kneeling down to speak to his nephew. "Hello Scottie."

The toddler giggled and for some reason unbeknown to Martje toddled over to her. Oliver mock-pouted and sat back down next her. "It seems you've made a friend already."

Martje laughed and pulled Scott up onto her lap where he sat contentedly. "Hello." Martje said brushing a stray curl from his forehead. "I'm Martje."

From across the room Joseph spoke as he set some presents down under the tree. "No, you're Auntie Martje to him."

"Oh, okay then. I'm Auntie Martje." Scott reached out a chubby hand and took Martje's index finger. "Did Sinter Klaus come to your house last night?"

"Tee Marti." Scott said with a concise nod. "Santa gave me orange and a bouncy ball." He stated before clambering over onto Oliver's lap. "Uncle Ollie!" He squealed happily as Oliver wrapped his arms around him and proceeded to tickle him.

"Close enough." Martje laughed at Scott's attempt. It was actually better than some of the patients at the hospital managed the first time round and they'd been around a lot longer than Scott had. It was amusing to watch Scott squirm and giggle as Oliver played with him. Martje had only seen him with children at the hospital.

About fifteen minutes later Oliver's mother called from the kitchen to say that lunch was ready and they all filed into the dining room to eat.

Seeing Martje's eyebrows raise in horror, Oliver leaned over to ask what was wrong. He noticed immediately and rolled his eyes, something he'd done a lot more frequently since he'd met Martje, he tapped his mother's wrist and spoke quietly. "Mum? Did you really just give Martje a pork sausage wrapped in bacon?"

-o-o-o-o-o-

December 31st

"Only an hour to go." Oliver smiled down at Martje before looking around the room at the other medical students that surrounded them. John and Sherlock were over speaking to one of their professors and it seemed that Sherlock was trying to set him straight about something.

"Hmm." Martje agreed taking Oliver's hand and leading him over to a sofa in the corner of the room. "It's been quite a year, hasn't it?"

Oliver nodded and thought about everything that had happened to them. They got through another year of exams, treated hundreds of people and of course John had moved out to live with Sherlock, leaving them alone in the house together which of course had its benefits. "Yeah, it's been a good year though." He said as he pressed his lips to Martje's.

Martje kissed him back before moving away and squeezing his hand. "You can't give me a New Year's kiss yet."

'Five!'

Martje and Oliver stood next to Sherlock and John. They all clutched glasses of champagne in their hands and counted down the seconds along with the rest of the room.

'Four!'

Martje watched as Sherlock whispered something in John's ear which caused him to laugh and blush at the same time. Martje could only leave it to her imagination to work out what Sherlock had said.

'Three!'

Oliver could feel the nerves buzzing in the pit of his stomach as he linked arms with Martje. He had no idea why he got nervous at New Year but he always did. Maybe it was something to do with having a whole year ahead of him and having no idea what it had in store for him.

'Two!'

"John? Why do people celebrate the New Year it's hardly as if anything is going to change dramatically tomorrow is it?"

John sighed affectionately and curled an arm around Sherlock's waist. "No that's true but people like the idea of having a fresh start."

Sherlock nodded deliberately. "I see. Any excuse to make hope-filled false promises to yourself."

John laughed. "That's one way of looking at it I suppose."

'One!'

The room became deathly quiet and all you could hear was the shuffle of feet and rustle of clothes. Sherlock leaned into John's side and Martje squeezed Oliver's hand.

'Happy New Year!'

Martje stretched up on her toes and let Oliver kiss her properly. Sherlock watched the room in quiet bewilderment. "John? Why is everyone-?"

John rolled his eyes and didn't let him finish his sentence. He pulled Sherlock's chin down and pressed his lips to his. Sherlock's eyes widened in surprise but he saw no point in protesting maybe this New Year's tradition was one that he actually approved of.

-o-o-o-o-o-