Possibly, I'm Insane

For rereader


“Today,” Eames announces, “is our anniversary.”

Arthur ponders this. It’s not their first I love you, not their first kiss, not their first meeting. Eames looks so tickled that Arthur suspects he’s making something random up, to be irritating. “What’s important about today?” Arthur asks.

“Today is the anniversary of the day I got hit by Mycroft Holmes’s car!” Eames declares triumphantly.

Actually…he’s right, and that is an important day for them. Arthur can’t dispute it.

He also knows there’s a reason Eames is buttering him up here. “What did you have in mind to celebrate?”

“A little light larceny?”

For K2togYO

It’s a different sort of holiday altogether, to be in Sussex.

When Oliver was younger, they stayed in London for Christmas. Now that Oliver is off at school, London feels haunted by Oliver’s absence. The oddity of having him home for Christmas, but it only being a visit makes John say, “I think we should do Christmas in Sussex.”

This is also possibly why Sherlock so enthusiastically agrees.

So it’s a different sort of holiday, although the main particular is that Oliver is there. And he’s happy to be there, although he does say, “Looking forward to London at midterm.”

For chriscalledmesweetie

(Sorry for the late post, yesterday was a busy day!)

The gift is from Mycroft, and when John opens it on Christmas morning Mycroft’s expression is unassailably bland.

“I thought,” he explains, “that it would remind the two of you how you met.”

“Very romantic,” John remarks drily, holding up the Elf on a Shelf.

Sherlock regards it critically. “Santa’s elves look nothing like that,” he concludes dismissively. “John certainly looked nothing like that as an elf.”

“I…think that’s a compliment?” says John, studying the limp stuffed elf with the determinedly grinning visage. “This thing’s a little creepy.”

Sherlock shrugs. “Don’t worry, we’ll garrote the thing when we get home.”

For anonymous


Patrick answers Pete’s call and Pete says, “It’s Christmas Eve.”

“Yes. Merry Christmas.”

“It’s Christmas Eve,” Pete repeats urgently. “I didn’t buy any gifts!”

“Christmas snuck up on you, huh?”

“There was always tomorrow to go shopping.”

“Except tomorrow is now Christmas Day.”

“Motherfucker,” says Pete feelingly.

“I am not going shopping with you,” Patrick warns him. “The stores will be a mess. My shopping is done, my presents are wrapped, I’m going to make some hot cocoa and relax.”

“Patrick. That’s the most fucking boring thing I’ve ever heard. Come keep me company.”

Patrick sighs because…he agrees. Fuck. “Fine.”

For anonymous

“Do you know what would be nice?” Harrison announces. “Having a house someday.”

Drew says, “A house where? We can’t afford any houses.”

“I don’t mean now. I mean someday.”

“I’m impressed you think we’ll ever be able to afford a house in a society where housing scarcity has driven up prices beyond the capability of ordinary—” Drew cuts himself off, registering Harrison’s crestfallen. Ah, he thinks. This is that sort of conversation. “But we can fantasize about having a house someday. I would like a gambrel roof, personally.”

Harrison immediately brightens, so Drew knows he got it right.

For anonymous


Matt is amazed by how many Christmas decorations Patrick has.

“What do you even do with this?” he asks, holding up a penguin wearing a Santa hat. Not made by any of the kids. Bought. Patrick paid for this.

“Aww, Penny Penguin!” Hailey exclaims, and walks away with it.

“Where are your Christmas decorations?” Patrick asks, deep in a box of fake candles. “We’ll find a way to integrate them.”

Matt considers the answer to that question.

Patrick looks at him. “Do you not have any Christmas decorations?”

Matt looks at the boxes scattered around them. “Well, I do now.”

For hominysnark 


“You are criticizing my driving and it is absolutely uncalled for,” Eames announced.

“You are failing at navigating this roundabout,” Arthur replied calmly.

“Well, who puts a fucking roundabout in a fucking dream?” Eames demanded. Then cut the car straight through the traffic to the other side.

“That was cheating.”

“I do know all about roundabouts, by the way. We are on my home turf right now. Driving on the right side of the road. The correct side, I mean.”

“And yet,” Arthur murmured. “You remain a terrible driver on both sides of the Atlantic.”

“We are in a dream!”

For kleoette

Oliver has been assigned a classmate to exchange gifts with. The entire thing is nonsensical to Sherlock.

“What for?” he demands.

“For the usual reasons that one buys people gifts,” John explains patiently.

“We don’t even know these people!”

“Oliver knows them.” John smiles at Oliver. “Right, Ollie?”

“Yes, and I’m going to give them worms.” Oliver is glowing with triumph.

John hesitates. “Do you…not like the person you got to exchange gifts with?”

“Oh, no, I like him a lot. I’m going to give him the special worms Dad and I have been experimenting with.”

“Good idea,” Sherlock approves.

For queenofonions

“This is a time of wonder,” Eames is proclaiming.

“Whenever you’re around me is always a time of wonder,” Arthur mutters.

“What a lovely thing to say, darling!”

“I wonder what new and exciting way Eames will find to irritate me this time,” Arthur explains.

“Ha ha. I meant Christmastime. Christmas is a time of wonder and joy. Not just me.”

“I didn’t say you were a time of joy. Just wonder.”

“That’s okay. I have time to convince you of the ‘joy’ part later.”

“How?” Arthur asks suspiciously.

“Darling, you’re going to like it so much,” Eames promises enthusiastically.

For auntiesuze

“It’s just like Christmas,” is what the Doctor assures all of them as the TARDIS landed on Bop Pidiamop.

“So Father Christmas is going to be here?” says Athena.

“Welllllllll, no.”

“There’s going to be Christmas presents?” asks Brem.

“Not that, either.”

“But I bet there’s going to be pretty trees!” exclaims Fortuna.

“Ah, not quite.”

“So,” Rose says, “when you say it’s just like Christmas…”

“I mean that there are gingerbread men.” The Doctor pauses. “Living gingerbread men. Who you then have to behead to eat. Like a turkey.”

“So maybe not at all like Christmas, then,” remarks Rose.

(there are still a couple of slots available here)