Here it is - just in time for Christmas! - the final part of my Sherlolly Saga Christmas Special.

Merry Christmas, everyone!

Chapter Four

William awoke to the sound of his radiator clicking and, scrambling out of bed, went straight over to his Advent calendar. There it was! The number 24. It was Christmas Eve at last! It wasn't that William didn't like Christmas – he loved it! But he was accustomed to Christmases that started on December 24th and were pretty much done and dusted by New Year's Day. Then everything went back to normal. He could cope with that.

But this one had been going on for days, with no end in sight – except now it was. William had been opening the little doors of his Advent Calendar every day, counting down to the Big Day. And today was IT! Christmas Eve. After this one, there was only one more window to open and – more to the point – the Hooper-Holmes household had caught up with Christmas.

When it came to magic and the supernatural, William was just on the cusp of disbelief. He had his suspicions but he was still hedging his bets. However, he was all too aware that Mummy had been out for the evening, the day before Christmas arrived early, leaving Daddy home alone. And, when Daddy was left unsupervised, he often 'did things'. 'Doing things' was Daddy's way of coping with having nothing else to do.

Most recently, it had been a mass bake-out. Previously, there had been the 'Spring-cleaning' incident and, before that, the great Laundry Experiment – Mummy was still a bit cross about what happened to her lamb's wool sweater. So, when Daddy told William what the elves had done, he was fairly certain who was actually responsible.

William didn't want anyone to feel bad about having extra Christmas time. Though it was obvious Daddy felt a little guilty, everyone else seemed to be really happy about it – especially Freddie – and the house did look quite impressive so William gritted his teeth and worked hard at filtering the full-on multisensory experience for the extra days. However, now that it was Christmas Eve, William could relax and really start to enjoy the Festive Season.

'Du' mornin', Wiw'yum!' said Freddie, when his brother appeared in the kitchen. Freddie was already at the breakfast table, spoon in hand, eagerly anticipating the porridge that Mummy was stirring, on the hob.

Violet was in her high-chair, swathed in her apron, chomping on a piece of banana, to keep her occupied while the porridge was prepared. There was only one person missing – well, two, really. Nanny Marie wasn't here either but William knew she wouldn't be. She always spent Christmas at home, with her mummy and daddy – even though she was grown up. She had said Merry Christmas to them all the night before and left. She would be away for a few days.

'Where's Daddy?' William enquired, taking his seat at the table and pouring himself a glass of milk.

'Oh, he had to pop out,' Mummy explained. 'Inspector Lestrade called with a case, first thing this morning.'

William frowned. He was used to Daddy dashing off at a moment's notice. It wasn't that that bothered him.

'He will be home by bedtime, though, won't he?' he asked.

'I'm sure he'll do his best,' Molly assured her eldest boy.

It was important that Daddy return by bedtime on Christmas Eve because he always read 'A Visit from St Nicholas' to the children on that day. William was sure that Mummy could read the story just as well as Daddy, but this was Daddy's favourite part of Christmas and William didn't want him to miss it.

Uncle Mycroft had told William, a long time ago, that Daddy didn't really like Christmas when he was little and didn't even bother celebrating it when he grew up – until he met Uncle John. Uncle John loved Christmas and insisted on putting up decorations at 221B Baker Street and inviting all their friends round for drinks on Christmas Eve. And even bought presents. So Daddy had no choice but to join in, however ungraciously.

But after Daddy came back from 'being away', he joined in their family Christmas and read the poem 'A Visit from St Nicholas' to William, at bedtime, on Christmas Eve. And he had done so every Christmas Eve since. It was their most special time together.

'Don't worry, darling,' Molly said to William, who was looking quite concerned, 'I'm sure Daddy will be home in time. He wouldn't miss it for the world.'

ooOoo

Breakfast over, Molly took the children upstairs to get them washed and dressed, for the day ahead. William was quite able to wash and dress himself, and clean his teeth. Freddie still needed quite a bit of help with these things but William was happy to give it while Mummy took care of Violet, who couldn't really do anything for herself, yet.

William found Violet a bit of a challenge. She was only small and could do very little but none of these obvious disadvantages seemed to bother her. She had the knack of letting people know what she wanted, even though she couldn't talk. Freddie seemed to understand what she wanted without her having to say anything at all. He was always there to help her.

But then, Freddie had always wanted to help people, even when he was little, not much bigger than Violet was now. When they were in Rio and the bad men came after them, in the hotel, William had been so frightened, especially by the loud noises of the gunshots, but Freddie had still tried to look after him. William always remembered that, whenever Freddie annoyed him, and he stopped feeling annoyed.

'How are you getting on, boys?' Mummy asked, coming into Freddie's bedroom.

'I duss puttin' my sotts on, Mummy,' Freddie replied, tugging at one sock with both hands while William slipped a second sock on his other foot and pulled it up to his knee.

'Well done!' Molly exclaimed, smiling at her darling boys. 'Right, let's put our coats on and then we're off!'

The family were invited over to Mrs Hudson's for lunch and then they were all going to see a pantomime, which was a sort of play that only happens at Christmas. Daddy was not a huge fan of pantomimes, which was why he would not have been going even if he hadn't been called away on a case. Having watched this one, William found he didn't much care for them, either. They were so illogical!

The play was called 'Aladdin' and was about a young man and his mother who got tricked by a man into helping him find a magic lamp. But the mother was actually a man dressed as a woman and the son was really a girl dressed as a boy, so William could not understand why they didn't just call themselves father and daughter. And he could see straight away that the man was up to no good. For a start, he said he was Aladdin's uncle but even as he said it, he gave a leary grin so any fool could tell he was lying.

The lying man sent Aladdin into the cave to get the lamp but, after the 'boy' gave it to him, he trapped him in the cave and went away. But Aladdin, it seems, wasn't as stupid as he appeared. He gave the 'uncle' the wrong lamp and kept the right one for himself. Then he happened to rub the lamp – why he did that, William wasn't quite sure - and a genie appeared and granted him some wishes, one of which was to get out of the cave. Aladdin went back home and, with the help of the genie, became very rich and married a princess.

That was the story, in a nutshell, but there was lots of singing and dancing and plot twists before they came to the final conclusion. William felt they could have sorted it all out much more quickly if they'd dispensed with all the unnecessary stuff. No wonder Daddy didn't want to come and see this rubbish, William thought.

Freddie, in contrast, absolutely loved the pantomime. He watched, enthralled, as the story played out before his eyes, joining in all the shouting and cheering that, apparently, was considered acceptable at a pantomime but would have been frowned upon at any other sort of play. He even joined in the hissing and booing, once he'd checked with Mummy that it was OK. And when the uncle with the big twirly moustache was being horrible to Aladdin, Freddie felt the need to stand up and shout,

'Leab hib alone, you bully!' which made everyone in the theatre laugh and clap.

Even Violet enjoyed the pantomime, right up to the point where one of the characters – rather appropriately called Squirt – ran down the aisle between the rows of seats, spraying water on everyone and managed to catch Violet right in the face. She was not amused. In fact, she was most put out and showed it by screaming, very loudly until Mummy took her out into the foyer.

Fortunately, by that time, the pantomime was nearly over. When the last song had been sung, dance danced and plot twist untwisted, the curtains closed and the theatre lights came on. It was time to go home.

When the family came out of the theatre, it was already dark outside, even though it was only four o'clock in the afternoon. Mummy used her phone app to call for a cab and they all climbed in – Mrs Hudson included because she was coming home with them for Christmas. William was hoping Daddy would be there when they arrived home but he was to be disappointed.

ooOoo

Several miles away, in a dark alleyway opposite a row of lock-up garages, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson were waiting for DI Lestrade and his team to catch up with them. The intrepid duo had traced their suspect to one of these lock-up garages, in which it was believed he was manufacturing dangerous illegal drugs. There had been several fatalities.

John and Sherlock had seen the man arrive by car and enter the garage half an hour earlier and, as the up and over door was closing and the light came on, they had glimpsed what looked suspiciously like drug-making apparatus.

'Come on, Lestrade!' Sherlock growled under his breath. 'Where the hell are you?'

'Christmas traffic?' John Watson offered, helpfully.

Sherlock huffed. He took out his phone and began firing off another impatient text to DI Lestrade. If the Inspector didn't arrive soon, he would just go in and apprehend the felon himself.

'No you won't,' John cautioned, knowing his partner all too well. 'We're staying right here until back-up arrives…'

He had barely finished speaking when the garage door opened again and the suspect emerged. It would seem he had only called in to the 'factory' to collect supplies and was now on his way to sell more of his wares to unsuspecting members of the public. He closed the garage door and locked it, shouldering a backpack that looked considerably heavier now than it had half an hour before.

The man walked towards his car, looking round cautiously but unaware that he was being watched. The observers heard his car chirrup and its lights flashed as he unlocked it remotely, opened the driver's side door and climbed in.

'Sherlock…' John warned but his advice went unheeded. His friend was already sprinting down the alleyway, out into the open space in front of the garages, where he skidded to a halt and stood right in the path of the suspect's car, his arm extended toward the vehicle.

The driver, initially surprised to see a tall figure in his headlights, recovered very quickly and slammed his foot on the accelerator. The car shot forward, tyres squealing.

'Sherlock!' John shouted and closed his eyes as he heard a sickening crunch.

ooOoo

Back home in East Smithfield, Molly, Mrs Hudson and the children were sitting down to their supper.

'Eat up, William!' Mrs Hudson urged the seven year old.

William put a forkful of lamb casserole in his mouth and chewed it, listlessly. It was getting perilously near to bedtime and there was still no sign of Daddy. Mummy had texted him from the cab on the way home but he had not replied. William could tell Mummy was worried, too, but she was putting on a brave face, as usual, so as not to upset Freddie and Violet but William knew that look all too well.

Freddie was buzzing with anticipation at the prospect of Santa's imminent visit. Violet seemed to have recovered from the indignity of being squirted by Squirt and, in between accepting spoonsful of casserole from Mrs Hudson, who had been honoured with the task of feeding her, was chuckling at Freddie's excited chatter. William just kept glancing at the clock and listening for the sound of the front door opening.

Supper over, Molly took the children upstairs for their bath and Mrs H stayed downstairs to clear the table and load the dishwasher. She was just as concerned for the absent Daddy as William and Molly but she kept it to herself.

Bathed and ready for bed, the children came back downstairs to put out a tray of goodies on the dining room table, with a glass of whisky and a mince pie for Santa and some carrots for the reindeer. Then the moment for their special Christmas bedtime story had arrived but, unfortunately, the reader had not.

'Come over here, sweeties,' Molly said to the children, with an apologetic smile in William's direction. They gathered on the sofa, Molly in the middle with Violet in her lap, William on one side and Freddie on the other. Mrs Hudson settled herself in the armchair, with a glass of sherry, and Molly opened the picture book, 'Twas the Night before Christmas, at the first page and…Molly's mobile phone rang out.

William jumped off the sofa and ran to get Mummy's phone from the dining room table. He knew who the caller was from the ring tone. It was Uncle John.

'Molly, I'm so sorry…' John spluttered, a soon as he heard Molly's voice on the other end of the line. At those words, Molly felt her chest tighten.

No, she thought, please God, no.

'…I couldn't call earlier. We've been a bit tied up...'

'John, what's happened?' Molly interrupted. 'Is he alright?'

'Yes, he's OK, just a bit battered.'

'Why? What happened?'

'He jumped in front of a moving car, the damn fool. But don't worry. He dived out of the way, at the last minute…and crashed into a wall...unfortunately. But he's fine, honestly.'

'So where are you?' Molly asked, aware of four pairs of eyes boring into her, four beating hearts, hanging on her every word.

'I'm still at the scene. The driver didn't get far. Lestrade and company arrived in the nick of time to cut off his escape. So we're just wrapping things up here.'

'Can I speak to him?'

'Ah, no, he's not here. He's in a cab on his way home.'

'Why couldn't he phone me himself?' Molly asked, still unconvinced.

'He dropped his phone when he dived and the car ran over it. But that was the only fatality. And he asked me to tell you, don't start the story…whatever that means.'

Molly heaved a sigh of relief, reassured at last. She bid John Watson good night and Merry Christmas and turned to the children with a relieved smile.

'Daddy's coming home.'

Sherlock arrived ten minutes later, the only visible sign of his ordeal being a slight stiffness in his movements. He shrugged, awkwardly, out of his coat, took the book from Molly's hand and sat down on the sofa. With Violet in the crook of his arm and William and Freddie on either side, he opened the book and began to read,

''Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse…'

ooOoo

William lay in his bed, mulling over the events of the day. It had started normally enough but had become more and more weird by the moment, right up to the point where Daddy nearly missed his favourite part of Christmas. But, to everyone's delight, he arrived – not in time but, at least, not too late – to read the poem.

Tonight, Santa would creep into the house – allegedly – and leave all their presents under the tree, drink his whisky, eat his mince pie, give the reindeer their carrots and be on his way. In the morning, Freddie would wake up early and wake up everyone else, they would sit on the dining room floor in their pyjamas and open all their presents, while Mummy and Daddy and Mrs Hudson watched and smiled and drank cups of tea.

Mummy and Daddy would cook Christmas lunch while Mrs Hudson got all teary, watching the family reunion show on the TV. Freddie would play with his new toys and run around the house, singing. Violet – well, who knew what Violet would do? She was an unknown quantity when it came to Christmas.

After Christmas lunch, they would play parlour games – Blindman's Buff, Hunt the Thimble and Charades – Mrs Hudson would fall asleep in the chair and probably snore, Daddy would sneak up on Mummy with the sprig of mistletoe that he always kept hidden for this very moment, and she would pretend to be surprised when he kissed her.

All in all, it would be a lovely day.

But, for William, the best part of Christmas had already happened, when Daddy read the story of 'A Visit from St Nicholas', in his lovely deep, warm, Daddy voice and William would remember that part with a secret smile for many days to come.

ooOoo

Ooh, sorry about that, folks! Just had to put in a bit of drama, there! But, as Shakespeare would say, 'All's well that ends well!'

Hope you all have a lovely Festive Season. See you again in 2016. :)