Possibly, I'm Insane

kleoette

“I think,” Oliver said, “it should be fairly obvious for children to determine that there’s no such thing as Father Christmas.” He said this thoughtfully, puzzling it through. “He doesn’t bring everything anyone asks for. And he very obviously brings more presents for rich children than poor children. Surely it’s easy for everyone to figure out.” He paused and looked at John. “But they don’t figure it out.”

“Dad would say it’s because people are stupid,” John remarked.

“I think…” Oliver considered. “I think maybe they want to believe. So they do.”

John smiled. “Yes.”

“And also people are stupid.”

rifleman_lincoln

“No,” Sherlock says, “no, no, and no.”

“Hang on—” John begins.

“No, Oliver has rejected all of these.”

“Oliver has rejected all of the Christmas decorations?”

“They’re all tedious, aren’t they, Ollie?”

Oliver nodded.

John didn’t bother to ask why a three-year-old had such opinions on Christmas decorations. “But you love the tree,” he said.

“We’ll allow the tree,” Sherlock said, “but none of the inane elves or grinning reindeer or macabre snowmen.”

“Macabre?”

“That one’s definitely a murderer.”  

“We keep that one.” Oliver pointed.

“Oh, yes,” Sherlock agreed. “That one came from Mrs. Hudson, we’re keeping that one.”

rifleman_lincoln

“We need to bake biscuits for Christmas,” Oliver announced. “Everyone bakes biscuits for Christmas.”

“Everyone?” sniffed Sherlock, because that was what he thought about things that everyone was doing.

Oliver climbed onto the chair next to Sherlock. “The biscuits should be in shapes.”

Sherlock regarded him suspiciously. “You are getting these ideas from school.”

“Baking is science,” Oliver said wisely. “We should be able to bake some biscuits. And I’ve got lots of ideas for shapes.” Oliver bounced with excitement. “I think we should do body parts corresponding to particularly interesting murders.”

“Oh,” said Sherlock, “I like these Christmas biscuits.”