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Description
John and Sherlock awoke from their nap when they heard the doorbell ring. Sherlock greeted their visitor, Lestrade, while John made some tea. They sat down and discussed their case, a murder mystery in Santa Claus' workshop in the North Pole. Lestrade read the letter from Santa for himself.

"That is interesting. I've always still had a bit of an inkling that Santa existed."

"Really?" Sherlock asked. How could two people he held in such esteem believe in childish things?

"Really. Let me guess, your mother didn't let you and Mycroft believe in him so you wouldn't learn that your parents were Santa the entire time."

"Incredibly clever, for you."

Sherlock still had trouble coming to grips with the whole thing. John however, wasn't. He was delighted beyond words, and was trying to get Sherlock to be as well. He even proposed a bet that would get him paid as soon as Santa showed up.

John, Sherlock and Lestrade finished their sorely needed tea and chatted until the time appointed in the letter arrived. They pulled on their coats and other appropriate items of clothing before they went downstairs and opened the door.

John squeaked joyfully. He gesticulated wildly at the sleigh that stood before them as well as the man sitting in the front. "I told you he was real, Sherlock! Fork over the bet money."

Sherlock handed John a small sum of money, annoyed that this "Santa Claus" was real. "Shall we get going?"

"Consulting detectives first."

Sherlock took John's hand and they climbed into the sleigh together. "Hurry up, Lestrade."

"I'm right behind you." Lestrade got into the sleigh, sitting next to his friends.

"It's nice to meet you, sir," John nervously told Santa. "I've believed in you all this time."

"It's good to have people like you in the world, John."

"Thank you, sir."

"John, you're blushing," Sherlock noted. "Why are you? Stop it."

"It's nothing, Sherlock. Nothing you need to worry about, at any rate."

"Good."

The sleigh touched down in the North Pole, and John awoke from his nap. He looked around, his face growing more gleeful. "We're really here! This is amazing."

"It actually is," Sherlock replied.

"For different reasons than mine?"

"Possibly."

"Time to get to work," Lestrade said.

"Right behind you. Come on, John."

"Wanna hold hands, Sherlock?"

"M-maybe."

"I won't force you."

"Let's hold hands."

"Okay." John hopped out of the sleigh, Sherlock by his side. They grabbed each other's hands and followed Santa and Lestrade. John took a moment to gently pet Rudolph as they passed him. He was very soft to the touch. "Hello. You're a very lovely reindeer." He couldn't help but smile.

"He's real too?" Sherlock asked. He did a couple of once overs, just to check if the reindeer's nose was truly red. It was. What was going on?

"Yep."

"They fly?"

"We flew here, silly."

"I was still in shock a bit at that point."

"Were you really, Mister Always Observant?"

"John, sh-shut up!" Sherlock blushed.

"Look at you blushing. That's adorable. I should tell your mom and Mycroft about this."

"Please don't."

"I won't."

"Thank you."

"Let's get going, buddy."

"Good idea. It's a bit cold out here."

The two walked into the charming house. It was just as charming inside. A woman walked into the living room to greet everyone after they'd gotten settled.

"This must be the detective you were telling me about," she said to Santa. It was immediately obvious to Sherlock that she was his wife. "The one so smart he can help us with this."

"I'm Sherlock Holmes. These are my colleagues Dr. John Watson and DI Greg Lestrade. They'll be working with me on this case. Assisting me, rather."

"Would you like some cocoa and cookies before you solve this mystery?" Sherlock couldn't help but roll his eyes. He'd left home and Mrs. Hudson only to find her substitute in the North Pole.

"Please," John said, purposely ignoring the look of protest on Sherlock's face. "If it isn't any trouble."

"I'll be right back."

"Do you need help?"

"Yes."

John stood. "Allow me." He walked to Mrs. Claus' side, smiling. "I'm John Watson."

John and Mrs. Claus returned with the refreshments. John handed Sherlock a mug of cocoa. "I won't make you eat, even if those cookies look really good. They're fresh out of the oven. Are you sure you don't want even just one?"

"Thank you, but no. Sit next to me, John."

John sat next to Sherlock. What had he just done? "I'm not a dog."

"But you sat right where I told you to sit."

"I was gonna do that anyways."

"Of course. What can you tell us about the murder, Mr. Claus?" Sherlock asked. He always enjoyed getting right down to business. He wanted to be professional, even if he was the only person in his profession.

"It was one of our elves. We found him in the workshop earlier today. I can't believe any of us here would commit that sort of crime."

"Has his body been moved since the discovery or any of the rest of the crime scene disturbed in any way?"

"No. We didn't want to interfere with your work. It didn't seem like a good thing from what we've heard about you."

"Very good. Shall we move this investigation into the workshop? I'd like to see the body."

"But we're in the middle of..." John stopped speaking the moment Sherlock glared at him. "Never mind."

"We can bring the cocoa and cookies with us."

"That works for me."

Everyone made their way to the workshop, carrying their snacks with them. John stayed very close to Sherlock on the walk. He was going to get such a thrill from watching him work. He jumped a little as he felt Sherlock take his hand and hold it. He smiled at Sherlock, entwining his fingers with his friend's. He let go of Sherlock's hand as soon as they entered the workshop. John sat on a stool, sipping his cocoa and sharing cookies with Lestrade.

Sherlock knelt next to the body, taking out his pocket magnifying glass. He carefully examined it, as well as the area around it. There was some melted snow, making him believe that the murderer had come in from outside. There was also some tobacco from a pipe. Not many people smoked those in this day and age, but their client did. He would have to question him away from John. The fatal wound was on the back of the head, dealt with a blunt instrument. He took a good look at the wound and could tell the shape of the murder weapon. It seemed to be one of the tools used in toy making. A hammer. It must have taken a lot of brute strength to use something so small to kill, or perhaps it was struck against the unfortunate elf's skull more than once. The wood splinters embedded in the head around the wound seemed to support that theory. He stood, pocketing his magnifying glass. "The elf had been murdered by someone who had come in here from outside, and had been smoking a pipe. This mystery person beat the victim to death by using a hammer, probably one that had been left lying around after the work day was done."

"He'd come back that night to do some extra work. He was sick for a few days, and wanted to make it all up," Santa said.

"He must've took a break and left the hammer out. Then he returned and faced his attacker. Or didn't, based on where the wound was. The attacker smoked a pipe. That's a very rare thing now, and we just happen to be in the company of a smoker. Mr. Claus, could you come with me? I'd like to speak to you in private."

John stared at his friend in shock, then got up. "I'll be with the reindeer if anybody besides Sherlock needs me." He stormed out of the workshop.

"John..." Sherlock felt like he'd just lost the approval of the one person he truly cared about. But this was his job and he had to do this.

"Let's talk, Mr. Holmes," Santa said. "It might just help you, and I'll do this willingly."

"Alright."

"We can talk in my office so we don't disturb your friend."

"That seems fair. I hope he doesn't hate me now."

"I'm sure things will be fine. Come on now."

Sherlock wished he could trust the words, but his heart and mind were telling him otherwise. He would have to find a way to make things up to John. He didn't want to lose him. He followed Santa out of the room. Sherlock went outside a few minutes later and found John curled up in a sitting position in the sleigh. "Hey," he said.

"Go away."

"I've solved the murder."

"Don't care."

"It's not who you think I thought it was."

"Santa didn't do it?"

"I was wrong. He was helpful, though. I'm sorry for upsetting you. Join me for the revelation."

"Okay." John got out of the sleigh. "I'm sorry for the way I reacted." John launched himself at Sherlock and got on his tip toes. He kissed him. "Now we're even."

Sherlock blushed. "Can I expect some more of that, and maybe some other extras, later?"

"Yep."

"Excellent. Let's go now, dear doctor."

"I can't wait to hear what broke the case for you!"

Sherlock and John entered the workshop, where all the elves were gathered along with Lestrade, Santa and Mrs. Claus. John sat down next to Lestrade, not surprised that Sherlock had gathered such a large crowd. What a show-off. It made John smile.

"A conversation with Mr. Claus helped me reveal the identity of the killer. When I took a look at the body, I noticed some melted snow near it. I was then told that the victim had come back to work after the day was through, so the killer followed him. It certainly would be an opportunistic moment to kill someone since there would be nobody around. I also saw some pipe tobacco ash scattered near the body, which told me the killer was a smoker, which led me to an erroneous conclusion cleared up by Mr. Claus. He told me that one of the elves was also a smoker, and that particular elf was fast asleep for most of today. Finally, the weapon was the hammer that belonged to the victim and was missing when the body was discovered. Clearly the murderer thought he could get away with it if he took the murder weapon with him. But he couldn't. Some pieces of wood had come off and lodged themselves in the wound. Plus we've searched the suspect's room and have found the weapon." Sherlock scanned the crowd and saw one of the elves fidgeting nervously. "Come here, Noel."

Noel ran for it. John and Lestrade went after him. John tackled him and Lestrade grabbed him and took him back inside.

"Thanks." Sherlock smiled. "Let's just hand him over and then we can go."

Lestrade walked Noel over to the other elves. "I trust him with you."

"Thank you all very much," Santa said. "I don't know if we could have done this without you."

"You're welcome," John replied. "I'm saying that for all of us."

"John and Lestrade please go wait for me in the sleigh," Sherlock ordered. "I've got a question I need to ask Santa."

"Come on, Greg. Let's give Sherlock some private time with his new friend."

"That's not what he is, John! No offense meant, sir."

"It's alright."

"Get going you two."

"Fine." John and Lestrade walked out of the workshop. "I really wanted to hear what he was asking Santa."

"Stay by the door. He won't know you're there unless you make a sound."

"Thanks for the advice." John crept back towards the workshop and flattened an ear against the door.

"So, Santa what list of yours do you think I'd be on if I was raised to believe in you?"

"Good, probably."

"Really? Me? John loves to put me on his personal naughty list every year during the holidays. I guess he loves it when I'm naughty."

John burst in through the door, spouting incoherent phrases and blushing. "Sherlock, why? He doesn't need to know about our love life, especially the really intimate part of it."

"I thought it was appropriate."

"It isn't."

"Let's get you home," Santa said.

"Okay." Everyone went outside and piled back into the sleigh. They then made the journey home.

Description
John and Sherlock awoke from their nap when they heard the doorbell ring. Sherlock greeted their visitor, Lestrade, while John made some tea. They sat down and discussed their case, a murder mystery in Santa Claus' workshop in the North Pole. Lestrade read the letter from Santa for himself.

"That is interesting. I've always still had a bit of an inkling that Santa existed."

"Really?" Sherlock asked. How could two people he held in such esteem believe in childish things?

"Really. Let me guess, your mother didn't let you and Mycroft believe in him so you wouldn't learn that your parents were Santa the entire time."

"Incredibly clever, for you."

Sherlock still had trouble coming to grips with the whole thing. John however, wasn't. He was delighted beyond words, and was trying to get Sherlock to be as well. He even proposed a bet that would get him paid as soon as Santa showed up.

John, Sherlock and Lestrade finished their sorely needed tea and chatted until the time appointed in the letter arrived. They pulled on their coats and other appropriate items of clothing before they went downstairs and opened the door.

John squeaked joyfully. He gesticulated wildly at the sleigh that stood before them as well as the man sitting in the front. "I told you he was real, Sherlock! Fork over the bet money."

Sherlock handed John a small sum of money, annoyed that this "Santa Claus" was real. "Shall we get going?"

"Consulting detectives first."

Sherlock took John's hand and they climbed into the sleigh together. "Hurry up, Lestrade."

"I'm right behind you." Lestrade got into the sleigh, sitting next to his friends.

"It's nice to meet you, sir," John nervously told Santa. "I've believed in you all this time."

"It's good to have people like you in the world, John."

"Thank you, sir."

"John, you're blushing," Sherlock noted. "Why are you? Stop it."

"It's nothing, Sherlock. Nothing you need to worry about, at any rate."

"Good."

The sleigh touched down in the North Pole, and John awoke from his nap. He looked around, his face growing more gleeful. "We're really here! This is amazing."

"It actually is," Sherlock replied.

"For different reasons than mine?"

"Possibly."

"Time to get to work," Lestrade said.

"Right behind you. Come on, John."

"Wanna hold hands, Sherlock?"

"M-maybe."

"I won't force you."

"Let's hold hands."

"Okay." John hopped out of the sleigh, Sherlock by his side. They grabbed each other's hands and followed Santa and Lestrade. John took a moment to gently pet Rudolph as they passed him. He was very soft to the touch. "Hello. You're a very lovely reindeer." He couldn't help but smile.

"He's real too?" Sherlock asked. He did a couple of once overs, just to check if the reindeer's nose was truly red. It was. What was going on?

"Yep."

"They fly?"

"We flew here, silly."

"I was still in shock a bit at that point."

"Were you really, Mister Always Observant?"

"John, sh-shut up!" Sherlock blushed.

"Look at you blushing. That's adorable. I should tell your mom and Mycroft about this."

"Please don't."

"I won't."

"Thank you."

"Let's get going, buddy."

"Good idea. It's a bit cold out here."

The two walked into the charming house. It was just as charming inside. A woman walked into the living room to greet everyone after they'd gotten settled.

"This must be the detective you were telling me about," she said to Santa. It was immediately obvious to Sherlock that she was his wife. "The one so smart he can help us with this."

"I'm Sherlock Holmes. These are my colleagues Dr. John Watson and DI Greg Lestrade. They'll be working with me on this case. Assisting me, rather."

"Would you like some cocoa and cookies before you solve this mystery?" Sherlock couldn't help but roll his eyes. He'd left home and Mrs. Hudson only to find her substitute in the North Pole.

"Please," John said, purposely ignoring the look of protest on Sherlock's face. "If it isn't any trouble."

"I'll be right back."

"Do you need help?"

"Yes."

John stood. "Allow me." He walked to Mrs. Claus' side, smiling. "I'm John Watson."

John and Mrs. Claus returned with the refreshments. John handed Sherlock a mug of cocoa. "I won't make you eat, even if those cookies look really good. They're fresh out of the oven. Are you sure you don't want even just one?"

"Thank you, but no. Sit next to me, John."

John sat next to Sherlock. What had he just done? "I'm not a dog."

"But you sat right where I told you to sit."

"I was gonna do that anyways."

"Of course. What can you tell us about the murder, Mr. Claus?" Sherlock asked. He always enjoyed getting right down to business. He wanted to be professional, even if he was the only person in his profession.

"It was one of our elves. We found him in the workshop earlier today. I can't believe any of us here would commit that sort of crime."

"Has his body been moved since the discovery or any of the rest of the crime scene disturbed in any way?"

"No. We didn't want to interfere with your work. It didn't seem like a good thing from what we've heard about you."

"Very good. Shall we move this investigation into the workshop? I'd like to see the body."

"But we're in the middle of..." John stopped speaking the moment Sherlock glared at him. "Never mind."

"We can bring the cocoa and cookies with us."

"That works for me."

Everyone made their way to the workshop, carrying their snacks with them. John stayed very close to Sherlock on the walk. He was going to get such a thrill from watching him work. He jumped a little as he felt Sherlock take his hand and hold it. He smiled at Sherlock, entwining his fingers with his friend's. He let go of Sherlock's hand as soon as they entered the workshop. John sat on a stool, sipping his cocoa and sharing cookies with Lestrade.

Sherlock knelt next to the body, taking out his pocket magnifying glass. He carefully examined it, as well as the area around it. There was some melted snow, making him believe that the murderer had come in from outside. There was also some tobacco from a pipe. Not many people smoked those in this day and age, but their client did. He would have to question him away from John. The fatal wound was on the back of the head, dealt with a blunt instrument. He took a good look at the wound and could tell the shape of the murder weapon. It seemed to be one of the tools used in toy making. A hammer. It must have taken a lot of brute strength to use something so small to kill, or perhaps it was struck against the unfortunate elf's skull more than once. The wood splinters embedded in the head around the wound seemed to support that theory. He stood, pocketing his magnifying glass. "The elf had been murdered by someone who had come in here from outside, and had been smoking a pipe. This mystery person beat the victim to death by using a hammer, probably one that had been left lying around after the work day was done."

"He'd come back that night to do some extra work. He was sick for a few days, and wanted to make it all up," Santa said.

"He must've took a break and left the hammer out. Then he returned and faced his attacker. Or didn't, based on where the wound was. The attacker smoked a pipe. That's a very rare thing now, and we just happen to be in the company of a smoker. Mr. Claus, could you come with me? I'd like to speak to you in private."

John stared at his friend in shock, then got up. "I'll be with the reindeer if anybody besides Sherlock needs me." He stormed out of the workshop.

"John..." Sherlock felt like he'd just lost the approval of the one person he truly cared about. But this was his job and he had to do this.

"Let's talk, Mr. Holmes," Santa said. "It might just help you, and I'll do this willingly."

"Alright."

"We can talk in my office so we don't disturb your friend."

"That seems fair. I hope he doesn't hate me now."

"I'm sure things will be fine. Come on now."

Sherlock wished he could trust the words, but his heart and mind were telling him otherwise. He would have to find a way to make things up to John. He didn't want to lose him. He followed Santa out of the room. Sherlock went outside a few minutes later and found John curled up in a sitting position in the sleigh. "Hey," he said.

"Go away."

"I've solved the murder."

"Don't care."

"It's not who you think I thought it was."

"Santa didn't do it?"

"I was wrong. He was helpful, though. I'm sorry for upsetting you. Join me for the revelation."

"Okay." John got out of the sleigh. "I'm sorry for the way I reacted." John launched himself at Sherlock and got on his tip toes. He kissed him. "Now we're even."

Sherlock blushed. "Can I expect some more of that, and maybe some other extras, later?"

"Yep."

"Excellent. Let's go now, dear doctor."

"I can't wait to hear what broke the case for you!"

Sherlock and John entered the workshop, where all the elves were gathered along with Lestrade, Santa and Mrs. Claus. John sat down next to Lestrade, not surprised that Sherlock had gathered such a large crowd. What a show-off. It made John smile.

"A conversation with Mr. Claus helped me reveal the identity of the killer. When I took a look at the body, I noticed some melted snow near it. I was then told that the victim had come back to work after the day was through, so the killer followed him. It certainly would be an opportunistic moment to kill someone since there would be nobody around. I also saw some pipe tobacco ash scattered near the body, which told me the killer was a smoker, which led me to an erroneous conclusion cleared up by Mr. Claus. He told me that one of the elves was also a smoker, and that particular elf was fast asleep for most of today. Finally, the weapon was the hammer that belonged to the victim and was missing when the body was discovered. Clearly the murderer thought he could get away with it if he took the murder weapon with him. But he couldn't. Some pieces of wood had come off and lodged themselves in the wound. Plus we've searched the suspect's room and have found the weapon." Sherlock scanned the crowd and saw one of the elves fidgeting nervously. "Come here, Noel."

Noel ran for it. John and Lestrade went after him. John tackled him and Lestrade grabbed him and took him back inside.

"Thanks." Sherlock smiled. "Let's just hand him over and then we can go."

Lestrade walked Noel over to the other elves. "I trust him with you."

"Thank you all very much," Santa said. "I don't know if we could have done this without you."

"You're welcome," John replied. "I'm saying that for all of us."

"John and Lestrade please go wait for me in the sleigh," Sherlock ordered. "I've got a question I need to ask Santa."

"Come on, Greg. Let's give Sherlock some private time with his new friend."

"That's not what he is, John! No offense meant, sir."

"It's alright."

"Get going you two."

"Fine." John and Lestrade walked out of the workshop. "I really wanted to hear what he was asking Santa."

"Stay by the door. He won't know you're there unless you make a sound."

"Thanks for the advice." John crept back towards the workshop and flattened an ear against the door.

"So, Santa what list of yours do you think I'd be on if I was raised to believe in you?"

"Good, probably."

"Really? Me? John loves to put me on his personal naughty list every year during the holidays. I guess he loves it when I'm naughty."

John burst in through the door, spouting incoherent phrases and blushing. "Sherlock, why? He doesn't need to know about our love life, especially the really intimate part of it."

"I thought it was appropriate."

"It isn't."

"Let's get you home," Santa said.

"Okay." Everyone went outside and piled back into the sleigh. They then made the journey home.