Seven Family
Title: Strange Affairs
Fandom: Willard Price's Adventure Series
Rating: G
Word Count: 197
Summary: Meal times tend to be odd in the Hunt Household.
Family meals tended to be … interesting at that Hunt household.
It was relatively rare that they were all together. Either the boys were in school or were off in some other country. When John wasn’t in another country, he was often out, either with the animals or at conferences. Even when they were all in the house, they couldn’t necessarily eat together. There were a lot of animals that needed fussing around. No, it was rare that the Hunts managed a full family meal.
When they did manage one though, it was usually loud. And cheerful. And full of animals.
“Roger, I don’t care how much you love her, the warthog does not come in the house. Put her back in her cage. Now.”
“Hal, have you washed your hands? No, you haven’t, not to my my standard. No, I don’t want to hear it. Go.”
“John. John, why are you still wearing your hat? Please take it off. John, did you know that there’s a lizard asleep on your hat?”
No. Family meals at the Hunts were definitely a strange affair. And on the whole, Mrs Hunt found that she rather liked it that way.
Title: Home Cooking
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: G
Word Count: 160
Summary: Harry always organises Christmas for the Weasleys.
Harry was the one who always organised Christmas.
There were lots of reasons why this made sense. He was, after all, rather a lot richer then the average Weasley. But mainly it was because he absolutely loved it. He loved arranging where everyone would sleep and decorating the house and arranging the food.
“And he’s a good cook,” George pointed out once.
“He does it without magic,” Ginny said, shaking her head. “He’s banned me from the kitchen after I tried to peel some potatoes with magic once.”
“You’ve married a madman,” Bill said sleepily. “It’s the only explanation.”
“Either that or he cheats,” Ron suggested cheerfully.
“Cheek!” Harry yelled from the other room. “This is all hand-cooked, I’ll have you know! Now someone come and help me lay this table or you can all do it yourselves next year!”
It was an empty threat though. They all knew he liked doing it far too much to give it up.
Title: Different Doors
Fandom: The Sarah Jane Adventures
Rating: G
Word Count: 255
Summary: Luke likes eating at other people's houses.
One of the things Luke finds fascinating is the way different families eat together.
Clyde invites him to his house quite casually. He’s got just a Mum too. She’s busy and cheerful and doesn’t mind when they just eat in front of the telly. She is glad that Clyde has a nice friend which makes Clyde roll his eyes. He clearly loves her though. He does the washing up and pretends it’s because she’d only be on his case otherwise.
Maria’s Dad doesn’t mind them eating in front of the telly but he likes to eat with them. He likes to find out what Maria’s been doing, if she’s having a good day, if Luke and Clyde are enjoying themselves in school, if they have plans.
Later, when Maria is gone and Rani is there, he eats at her house too. Mr Chandra has set ideas about eating around the table and no television or radio. When it’s just Gita, she doesn’t mind so much but Mr Chandra is firm. Luke doesn’t mind. It’s quite different and that makes it interesting.
But he still likes it best when it’s him and Mum. They don’t always eat around the table or in front of the telly. Sometimes they eat on the attic, talking to Mr Smith. Sometimes they eat at the table in the kitchen together, talking about things that have happened. Sometimes they eat in a rush, hurrying to stop the next invasion. But wherever it is, they’re together and that’s what Luke likes best.
Title: Interruptions
Fandom: Thunderbirds
Rating: G
Word Count: 113
Summary: They never eat together as a family any more.
One of the drawbacks of being International Rescue is that they rarely get to eat together as a family.
One of them is always away on the spaceship for a start. Then there’s the fact that they never know when they’ll be called away on a mission. There’s been plenty of meals that have been abandoned in the middle in a hasty dash to the ships (there’s always energy bars and dried fruit stocked to snack on but it’s not the same.) Then there’s all the little things; performing essential maintenance, helping Brains with experiments … it all just gets in the way.
They don’t mind though. That’s just the way it is.
Title: Served Hot and Cold
Fandom: Merlin
Rating: PG
Word Count: 732
Summary: Morgana hates eating with Arthur and Uther. Written for versipellis who asked for something with Morgana set in Season Three.
There had been a time when Morgana would have used any excuse she could to get out of uncomfortable meals with Arthur and Uther.
Obviously, she’d never been able to avoid all of them. Uther had expectations and woe betide anyone who didn’t meet them. But there had been plenty of reasons why she couldn’t attend every meal, every function. She’d enjoyed working out how often she could use each excuse, gauging Uther’s moods to see if he was angry or indulgent.
But now, she couldn’t afford to do that. She needed to be at Uther’s side, needed him to know that she existed, that she was his beloved ward …
It made her want to scream. The lies and pretences, the sweet words … it was disgusting. When Uther smiled at her, she wanted to slap it off his face. She wanted it to be over.
Morgause had said it would be hard. She had been sympathetic, loving like always.
“You’re strong enough to do this, sister,” she’d reassured. “I know you are.”
But Morgana sometimes wasn’t sure she was. There was all the boiling hate and loathing and it was so hard to keep it all inside her, so hard to stop it exploding out in a violent rush of hate and then …
Then there was the cold, creeping guilt.
She hated the guilt. How dare it? How dare it infect her like some nasty little disease? What did she have to feel guilty about? Uther had lied to her, betrayed her. He professed such love and yet he denied her every birth right that she had. He deserved pain and suffering, then death and she looked forward to the day she could mete it out personally. She’d never really cared for him, had she? Obviously, she’d had to live with him but if she’d loved him, she wouldn’t have defied him all those times, would she? She would haven’t tried to first have him killed almost three years ago. No, nothing between her and Uther had ever been real. Her mind could try to trick her with all those old memories but they were lies and she wouldn’t be fooled.
And then there was Arthur. Stupid, stupid Arthur with his ridiculous big eyes and confident grin. She hated him too. Hated that he’d never known the horrors she had, that he was utterly confident in his place in life. Hated the way he stared at his father with admiration, did the things that he was asked. How could he? How could he not feel the hate that she did? And how dare he have what was rightfully hers?
But oh, the guilt-sickness for him was worse than it was for Uther’s. Because he had been her friend once. He had been loyal, even. And sometimes, she found herself wondering if it could be like that again. If maybe, just maybe, he’d listen and understand …
But no. No, she knew that wasn’t true. Arthur was his father’s son. Arthur was going to be a king just like Uther. She knew it and Morgause knew it. Morgause had said that she had given Arthur his chance and Arthur had not taken it. He’d chosen to stick by his father. Well then, that’s how it would be.
And always at his side was Merlin.
He served them food at each of these interminable meals she attended. Poured their drinks, attended to them all. She never let him pour her a drink. She never let him do anything for her, if she could help it. He always offered, his face expressionless and she made sure her face was equally expressionless in return. Sometimes, when he thought she wasn’t looking. she saw him wearing a look of grief that made the guilt surge again, mixed with confusing anger. How dare he feel bad? How dare he make her feel bad?
She hated them. She hated all of them. The fires of hate were usually enough to burn away the cold guilt. When it wasn’t, she replayed all the things Morgause had told her. Morgause was her real family. One day, Morgana would sit at this table and eat with her. They would smile and laugh and there would be no lies, no pretences. She would never have to think about these things again.
But until then, she would sit through the meals.
Title: Weird Sisters
Fandom: Lewis/Merlin
Rating: PG
Word Count: 418
Summary: Lewis thinks that Hathaway's half-sister and her half sister are quite charming, on the whole.
On the whole, Lewis thought it had perhaps been a mistake to go to Hathaway’s for Christmas.
It was true that Hathaway had warned him that his slightly odd half-sister, Morgause, might come. And then added that they only really spoke at Christmas and that she liked to wear very old-fashioned clothes and shunned technology. And really hated the origin of her name so if she did come, Lewis mustn’t mention Arthurian legend at all. But she’d also said that she probably wouldn’t come this year.
Except she had come. And she’d brought a friend.
“Who is this?” Hathaway said, very unwelcomingly.
“This is Morgana,” Morgause said, smiling. “She’s my sister.”
“Please excuse us for a moment,” Hathaway had growled and then dragged the blonde into the kitchen to have a hissed row with her. Lewis had stared at Morgana, who had stared rather blankly back.
“I’m Robert Lewis,” Lewis offered at last. “Um … have some peanuts?”
“Thank you,” she said, very graciously, Lewis thought. She was wearing a beautiful red dress, definitely old fashioned but much better than the short skirts people often wore these days (Lewis knew this made him old and didn’t care. He was old, he was allowed to be cranky about fashion) She was very pale though and Lewis wondered if she was getting over an illness of some sort. It didn’t seem the sort of question one could really ask though. So they sat in silence, pretending they weren’t uncomfortable.
Hathaway and Morgause’s argument briefly got louder again and then went quiet. Then Hathaway stamped out of the kitchen and grudgingly offered Morgana a glass of wine. Morgause swept out after him, looking revoltingly smug.
It went slightly better when they got to the meal although Lewis could see what Hathaway meant about Morgause being a bit odd. Morgana was too. She seemed somewhat baffled by glasses, muttering something about how all the ones she was used to were made of metal. Which was a bit different.
They seemed quite nice though. Mostly. Morgana had apparently just got out of a bad family situation which still upset her. Morgause had a new boyfriend who she said was already getting a bit clingy. All fairly normal.
Hathaway seemed to disagree. A lot. But then, that was siblings for you, wasn’t it? Always very unreasonable about each other. His own two were a bit like that about each other.
“She seemed a nice lass,” he told Hathaway afterwards. “Quite charming, both of them.”
“Bah,” was all Hathaway would say to that.
Title: Family Thing
Fandom: Black Books/Sherlock (BBC version)
Rating: PG
Word Count: 927
Summary: John is a little puzzled when Sherlock invites him to a Christmas dinner in July ...
John was a bit confused when Sherlock invited him to his Christmas meal in the middle of July.
“We don’t actually have it at Christmas,” Sherlock explained calmly. “Christmas is a time of heightened tempers. July is much more relaxed. Besides, Bernard refuses to let us in on Christmas day so Mycroft suggested a compromise.”
“Bernard?” John said.
“My other brother,” Sherlock said.
“I didn’t know you had another brother,” John said.
Sherlock gave him a look and John rather suspected Sherlock was judging him for not having somehow deduced this fact. He decided to let it go and tried to work out what one wore for a Christmas dinner in July. He settled for a nice suit in the end. You couldn’t go wrong with a nice suit.
“Why are you wearing that?” Sherlock asked flatly.
“It’s a nice suit,” John said. “What’s wrong with it?”
“Nothing,” Sherlock said unconvincingly.
John rolled his eyes and decided not to bother. He’d just wear the suit. He betted Mycroft would be wearing a suit.
It turned out the Christmas dinner was taking place in a bookshop called Black Books. Someone had pinned some mistletoe over the door and the window had fake snow sprayed all over it. Sherlock looked rather like a condemned man about to enter prison.
“It looks very nice,” John said brightly.
A muscle in Sherlock’s jaw twitched. He opened the door and walked in, John on his heels.
“Merry Christmas!”
A man with a beard leapt out at them, dressed in a Santa suit. He was grinning in a slightly manic way. Sherlock stared at him, clearly thinking about running away. John stepped forward and smiled.
“I’m John Watson.”
“Oh, hi!” the man said, sounding a little less insane. “I’m Manny! Welcome to the shop! Hi Sherlock, nice to see you again.”
Sherlock made a noise that could have been a hello. Manny didn’t seem to mind. He ushered them through random piles of books into a back room. A woman was sitting at the table. She looked up and scowled.
“Oh. You aren’t dead yet then.”
“Evidently,” Sherlock said frostily.
“We’ll have to up the dosage this year.”
She turned and looked at John.
“Who are you?”
“John Watson,” John said.
“Are you his boyfriend?” she asked.
“No,” John said.
“Oh God,” a voice said from what John had thought was a pile of old clothes. “Now she’s going to hit on you all night. Couldn’t you have just lied?”
“Bernard, be nice,” Manny said. “Couldn’t you have dressed up a little bit?”
“No,” the pile of old clothes grouched. “It’s only my brothers and I hate them both.”
“Rubbish,” Manny said firmly. “They’re your brothers, you love them very much. Come and give Sherlock a hug.”
“No!” the pile of old clothes shrieked. Sherlock twitched, clearly thinking of running away. Perhaps rather fortunately, at that moment, the door jingled and Manny rushed out to lead Mycroft in. Anthea came in behind him, still texting away.
“Oh God,” Bernard moaned. “Why do you always bring her? We’d get better conversation out of the wall.”
“Hello Bernard,” Mycroft said. “Have you actually been paying your taxes this year? It’s getting very embarrassing.”
“That’s Manny’s job,” Bernard said.
“Actually, it’s yours,” Anthea said, not looking up.
“Oh, go back to your Pong or whatever it is!”
“They don’t play Pong any more,” Sherlock said helpfully.
“What would you know about it?” Bernard demanded. “You couldn’t even turn your computer on until Fran taught you!”
Fran made a bitter noise in her throat. Obviously, it had not been a fun experience.
“And now I run my own website,” Sherlock said proudly.
“I’ve been on that!” Manny said, clearly hoping to keep the peace. “It’s very complicated. I found your blog too, Mr Watson.”
“You can call me John,” John said. “I’m glad you like the blog.”
“I tried to leave a comment but Bernard spilt wine all over the keyboard so it probably came out as gibberish,” Manny said helpfully.
“Oh, the E key is over-rated anyway,” Bernard said flippantly.
“It’s the most commonly used letter in the English language,” Mycroft said.
“You would know that, would you?” Bernard sneered. “Always the same, full of stupid little facts. It was all “Why can’t you be more like Mycroft?” and “Why aren’t you as pretty as Sherlock, Bernard?””
“People did not say that about me,” Sherlock said, sounding affronted.
“Oh, they did,” Bernard said, sounding quite pleased to be imparting this knowledge. “Mycroft was the clever one and you were the vacuous looking pretty one.”
John noticed that Manny and Fran were discreetly edging away towards what was probably the kitchen area. He followed them.
“Can I help?” he asked hopefully.
“Here,” Fran said. “Have this glass of wine. It gets better after the first glass of wine.”
“Are they going to have a fight?” John asked, peering at the three brothers. Anthea was still on her Blackberry and didn’t appear to notice what was going on.
“No,” Manny said. “Bernard tried to punch Mycroft once but he was drunk so fell out of the window instead.”
“The window?” John repeated.
“Ground floor,” Manny said in a tone he clearly considered reassuring.
John was beginning to suspect that everyone around him was completely mad.
“Is it always like this then?” he asked.
“It gets worse,” Fran said darkly. “You wait until they break out Pictionary.”
“Sherlock would never play Pictionary,” John said.
“It’s the Scientific formula edition,” Fran said and gulped her wine.
John did the same.
Fandom: Willard Price's Adventure Series
Rating: G
Word Count: 197
Summary: Meal times tend to be odd in the Hunt Household.
Family meals tended to be … interesting at that Hunt household.
It was relatively rare that they were all together. Either the boys were in school or were off in some other country. When John wasn’t in another country, he was often out, either with the animals or at conferences. Even when they were all in the house, they couldn’t necessarily eat together. There were a lot of animals that needed fussing around. No, it was rare that the Hunts managed a full family meal.
When they did manage one though, it was usually loud. And cheerful. And full of animals.
“Roger, I don’t care how much you love her, the warthog does not come in the house. Put her back in her cage. Now.”
“Hal, have you washed your hands? No, you haven’t, not to my my standard. No, I don’t want to hear it. Go.”
“John. John, why are you still wearing your hat? Please take it off. John, did you know that there’s a lizard asleep on your hat?”
No. Family meals at the Hunts were definitely a strange affair. And on the whole, Mrs Hunt found that she rather liked it that way.
Title: Home Cooking
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: G
Word Count: 160
Summary: Harry always organises Christmas for the Weasleys.
Harry was the one who always organised Christmas.
There were lots of reasons why this made sense. He was, after all, rather a lot richer then the average Weasley. But mainly it was because he absolutely loved it. He loved arranging where everyone would sleep and decorating the house and arranging the food.
“And he’s a good cook,” George pointed out once.
“He does it without magic,” Ginny said, shaking her head. “He’s banned me from the kitchen after I tried to peel some potatoes with magic once.”
“You’ve married a madman,” Bill said sleepily. “It’s the only explanation.”
“Either that or he cheats,” Ron suggested cheerfully.
“Cheek!” Harry yelled from the other room. “This is all hand-cooked, I’ll have you know! Now someone come and help me lay this table or you can all do it yourselves next year!”
It was an empty threat though. They all knew he liked doing it far too much to give it up.
Title: Different Doors
Fandom: The Sarah Jane Adventures
Rating: G
Word Count: 255
Summary: Luke likes eating at other people's houses.
One of the things Luke finds fascinating is the way different families eat together.
Clyde invites him to his house quite casually. He’s got just a Mum too. She’s busy and cheerful and doesn’t mind when they just eat in front of the telly. She is glad that Clyde has a nice friend which makes Clyde roll his eyes. He clearly loves her though. He does the washing up and pretends it’s because she’d only be on his case otherwise.
Maria’s Dad doesn’t mind them eating in front of the telly but he likes to eat with them. He likes to find out what Maria’s been doing, if she’s having a good day, if Luke and Clyde are enjoying themselves in school, if they have plans.
Later, when Maria is gone and Rani is there, he eats at her house too. Mr Chandra has set ideas about eating around the table and no television or radio. When it’s just Gita, she doesn’t mind so much but Mr Chandra is firm. Luke doesn’t mind. It’s quite different and that makes it interesting.
But he still likes it best when it’s him and Mum. They don’t always eat around the table or in front of the telly. Sometimes they eat on the attic, talking to Mr Smith. Sometimes they eat at the table in the kitchen together, talking about things that have happened. Sometimes they eat in a rush, hurrying to stop the next invasion. But wherever it is, they’re together and that’s what Luke likes best.
Title: Interruptions
Fandom: Thunderbirds
Rating: G
Word Count: 113
Summary: They never eat together as a family any more.
One of the drawbacks of being International Rescue is that they rarely get to eat together as a family.
One of them is always away on the spaceship for a start. Then there’s the fact that they never know when they’ll be called away on a mission. There’s been plenty of meals that have been abandoned in the middle in a hasty dash to the ships (there’s always energy bars and dried fruit stocked to snack on but it’s not the same.) Then there’s all the little things; performing essential maintenance, helping Brains with experiments … it all just gets in the way.
They don’t mind though. That’s just the way it is.
Title: Served Hot and Cold
Fandom: Merlin
Rating: PG
Word Count: 732
Summary: Morgana hates eating with Arthur and Uther. Written for versipellis who asked for something with Morgana set in Season Three.
There had been a time when Morgana would have used any excuse she could to get out of uncomfortable meals with Arthur and Uther.
Obviously, she’d never been able to avoid all of them. Uther had expectations and woe betide anyone who didn’t meet them. But there had been plenty of reasons why she couldn’t attend every meal, every function. She’d enjoyed working out how often she could use each excuse, gauging Uther’s moods to see if he was angry or indulgent.
But now, she couldn’t afford to do that. She needed to be at Uther’s side, needed him to know that she existed, that she was his beloved ward …
It made her want to scream. The lies and pretences, the sweet words … it was disgusting. When Uther smiled at her, she wanted to slap it off his face. She wanted it to be over.
Morgause had said it would be hard. She had been sympathetic, loving like always.
“You’re strong enough to do this, sister,” she’d reassured. “I know you are.”
But Morgana sometimes wasn’t sure she was. There was all the boiling hate and loathing and it was so hard to keep it all inside her, so hard to stop it exploding out in a violent rush of hate and then …
Then there was the cold, creeping guilt.
She hated the guilt. How dare it? How dare it infect her like some nasty little disease? What did she have to feel guilty about? Uther had lied to her, betrayed her. He professed such love and yet he denied her every birth right that she had. He deserved pain and suffering, then death and she looked forward to the day she could mete it out personally. She’d never really cared for him, had she? Obviously, she’d had to live with him but if she’d loved him, she wouldn’t have defied him all those times, would she? She would haven’t tried to first have him killed almost three years ago. No, nothing between her and Uther had ever been real. Her mind could try to trick her with all those old memories but they were lies and she wouldn’t be fooled.
And then there was Arthur. Stupid, stupid Arthur with his ridiculous big eyes and confident grin. She hated him too. Hated that he’d never known the horrors she had, that he was utterly confident in his place in life. Hated the way he stared at his father with admiration, did the things that he was asked. How could he? How could he not feel the hate that she did? And how dare he have what was rightfully hers?
But oh, the guilt-sickness for him was worse than it was for Uther’s. Because he had been her friend once. He had been loyal, even. And sometimes, she found herself wondering if it could be like that again. If maybe, just maybe, he’d listen and understand …
But no. No, she knew that wasn’t true. Arthur was his father’s son. Arthur was going to be a king just like Uther. She knew it and Morgause knew it. Morgause had said that she had given Arthur his chance and Arthur had not taken it. He’d chosen to stick by his father. Well then, that’s how it would be.
And always at his side was Merlin.
He served them food at each of these interminable meals she attended. Poured their drinks, attended to them all. She never let him pour her a drink. She never let him do anything for her, if she could help it. He always offered, his face expressionless and she made sure her face was equally expressionless in return. Sometimes, when he thought she wasn’t looking. she saw him wearing a look of grief that made the guilt surge again, mixed with confusing anger. How dare he feel bad? How dare he make her feel bad?
She hated them. She hated all of them. The fires of hate were usually enough to burn away the cold guilt. When it wasn’t, she replayed all the things Morgause had told her. Morgause was her real family. One day, Morgana would sit at this table and eat with her. They would smile and laugh and there would be no lies, no pretences. She would never have to think about these things again.
But until then, she would sit through the meals.
Title: Weird Sisters
Fandom: Lewis/Merlin
Rating: PG
Word Count: 418
Summary: Lewis thinks that Hathaway's half-sister and her half sister are quite charming, on the whole.
On the whole, Lewis thought it had perhaps been a mistake to go to Hathaway’s for Christmas.
It was true that Hathaway had warned him that his slightly odd half-sister, Morgause, might come. And then added that they only really spoke at Christmas and that she liked to wear very old-fashioned clothes and shunned technology. And really hated the origin of her name so if she did come, Lewis mustn’t mention Arthurian legend at all. But she’d also said that she probably wouldn’t come this year.
Except she had come. And she’d brought a friend.
“Who is this?” Hathaway said, very unwelcomingly.
“This is Morgana,” Morgause said, smiling. “She’s my sister.”
“Please excuse us for a moment,” Hathaway had growled and then dragged the blonde into the kitchen to have a hissed row with her. Lewis had stared at Morgana, who had stared rather blankly back.
“I’m Robert Lewis,” Lewis offered at last. “Um … have some peanuts?”
“Thank you,” she said, very graciously, Lewis thought. She was wearing a beautiful red dress, definitely old fashioned but much better than the short skirts people often wore these days (Lewis knew this made him old and didn’t care. He was old, he was allowed to be cranky about fashion) She was very pale though and Lewis wondered if she was getting over an illness of some sort. It didn’t seem the sort of question one could really ask though. So they sat in silence, pretending they weren’t uncomfortable.
Hathaway and Morgause’s argument briefly got louder again and then went quiet. Then Hathaway stamped out of the kitchen and grudgingly offered Morgana a glass of wine. Morgause swept out after him, looking revoltingly smug.
It went slightly better when they got to the meal although Lewis could see what Hathaway meant about Morgause being a bit odd. Morgana was too. She seemed somewhat baffled by glasses, muttering something about how all the ones she was used to were made of metal. Which was a bit different.
They seemed quite nice though. Mostly. Morgana had apparently just got out of a bad family situation which still upset her. Morgause had a new boyfriend who she said was already getting a bit clingy. All fairly normal.
Hathaway seemed to disagree. A lot. But then, that was siblings for you, wasn’t it? Always very unreasonable about each other. His own two were a bit like that about each other.
“She seemed a nice lass,” he told Hathaway afterwards. “Quite charming, both of them.”
“Bah,” was all Hathaway would say to that.
Title: Family Thing
Fandom: Black Books/Sherlock (BBC version)
Rating: PG
Word Count: 927
Summary: John is a little puzzled when Sherlock invites him to a Christmas dinner in July ...
John was a bit confused when Sherlock invited him to his Christmas meal in the middle of July.
“We don’t actually have it at Christmas,” Sherlock explained calmly. “Christmas is a time of heightened tempers. July is much more relaxed. Besides, Bernard refuses to let us in on Christmas day so Mycroft suggested a compromise.”
“Bernard?” John said.
“My other brother,” Sherlock said.
“I didn’t know you had another brother,” John said.
Sherlock gave him a look and John rather suspected Sherlock was judging him for not having somehow deduced this fact. He decided to let it go and tried to work out what one wore for a Christmas dinner in July. He settled for a nice suit in the end. You couldn’t go wrong with a nice suit.
“Why are you wearing that?” Sherlock asked flatly.
“It’s a nice suit,” John said. “What’s wrong with it?”
“Nothing,” Sherlock said unconvincingly.
John rolled his eyes and decided not to bother. He’d just wear the suit. He betted Mycroft would be wearing a suit.
It turned out the Christmas dinner was taking place in a bookshop called Black Books. Someone had pinned some mistletoe over the door and the window had fake snow sprayed all over it. Sherlock looked rather like a condemned man about to enter prison.
“It looks very nice,” John said brightly.
A muscle in Sherlock’s jaw twitched. He opened the door and walked in, John on his heels.
“Merry Christmas!”
A man with a beard leapt out at them, dressed in a Santa suit. He was grinning in a slightly manic way. Sherlock stared at him, clearly thinking about running away. John stepped forward and smiled.
“I’m John Watson.”
“Oh, hi!” the man said, sounding a little less insane. “I’m Manny! Welcome to the shop! Hi Sherlock, nice to see you again.”
Sherlock made a noise that could have been a hello. Manny didn’t seem to mind. He ushered them through random piles of books into a back room. A woman was sitting at the table. She looked up and scowled.
“Oh. You aren’t dead yet then.”
“Evidently,” Sherlock said frostily.
“We’ll have to up the dosage this year.”
She turned and looked at John.
“Who are you?”
“John Watson,” John said.
“Are you his boyfriend?” she asked.
“No,” John said.
“Oh God,” a voice said from what John had thought was a pile of old clothes. “Now she’s going to hit on you all night. Couldn’t you have just lied?”
“Bernard, be nice,” Manny said. “Couldn’t you have dressed up a little bit?”
“No,” the pile of old clothes grouched. “It’s only my brothers and I hate them both.”
“Rubbish,” Manny said firmly. “They’re your brothers, you love them very much. Come and give Sherlock a hug.”
“No!” the pile of old clothes shrieked. Sherlock twitched, clearly thinking of running away. Perhaps rather fortunately, at that moment, the door jingled and Manny rushed out to lead Mycroft in. Anthea came in behind him, still texting away.
“Oh God,” Bernard moaned. “Why do you always bring her? We’d get better conversation out of the wall.”
“Hello Bernard,” Mycroft said. “Have you actually been paying your taxes this year? It’s getting very embarrassing.”
“That’s Manny’s job,” Bernard said.
“Actually, it’s yours,” Anthea said, not looking up.
“Oh, go back to your Pong or whatever it is!”
“They don’t play Pong any more,” Sherlock said helpfully.
“What would you know about it?” Bernard demanded. “You couldn’t even turn your computer on until Fran taught you!”
Fran made a bitter noise in her throat. Obviously, it had not been a fun experience.
“And now I run my own website,” Sherlock said proudly.
“I’ve been on that!” Manny said, clearly hoping to keep the peace. “It’s very complicated. I found your blog too, Mr Watson.”
“You can call me John,” John said. “I’m glad you like the blog.”
“I tried to leave a comment but Bernard spilt wine all over the keyboard so it probably came out as gibberish,” Manny said helpfully.
“Oh, the E key is over-rated anyway,” Bernard said flippantly.
“It’s the most commonly used letter in the English language,” Mycroft said.
“You would know that, would you?” Bernard sneered. “Always the same, full of stupid little facts. It was all “Why can’t you be more like Mycroft?” and “Why aren’t you as pretty as Sherlock, Bernard?””
“People did not say that about me,” Sherlock said, sounding affronted.
“Oh, they did,” Bernard said, sounding quite pleased to be imparting this knowledge. “Mycroft was the clever one and you were the vacuous looking pretty one.”
John noticed that Manny and Fran were discreetly edging away towards what was probably the kitchen area. He followed them.
“Can I help?” he asked hopefully.
“Here,” Fran said. “Have this glass of wine. It gets better after the first glass of wine.”
“Are they going to have a fight?” John asked, peering at the three brothers. Anthea was still on her Blackberry and didn’t appear to notice what was going on.
“No,” Manny said. “Bernard tried to punch Mycroft once but he was drunk so fell out of the window instead.”
“The window?” John repeated.
“Ground floor,” Manny said in a tone he clearly considered reassuring.
John was beginning to suspect that everyone around him was completely mad.
“Is it always like this then?” he asked.
“It gets worse,” Fran said darkly. “You wait until they break out Pictionary.”
“Sherlock would never play Pictionary,” John said.
“It’s the Scientific formula edition,” Fran said and gulped her wine.
John did the same.