Spending New Year at the Holmes Family Home

Following Mycroft's advice, Baker Street's most famous detective team (and its only one) lay completely low for the next few days.

Sherlock stopped obsessing over Victor and occasionally gave the inspector, whom he considered dimwitted, some guidance over the phone.

"Wow, does all this open space belong to your family? Your place is huge." As soon as she got out of the car, Sitangna dropped her luggage and ran toward the open space in front of the house. The snow there was untouched, perfect for building a snowman.

New Year had arrived, and Mrs. Hudson's younger relatives had taken her to spend it with her mother's side of the family this year, so Sherlock brought the two poor souls back to his family home.

"Let's take our things inside first. I have gloves in my room. They'll keep your hands from freezing when we play in the snow later." Sherlock carried a duffel bag in one hand and grabbed Sitangna with the other as she charged off, while also sticking out a foot to trip Watson, who kept praising the place.

"Hey! What did I ever do to you?" Watson hurriedly caught his balance. Both his hands were full of gifts, so he could only vent his anger by ramming his head hard into Sherlock's back.

When Mrs. Holmes opened the door, this was the sight that greeted her: Sherlock, her most troublesome child, was holding back a crazy girl who was desperately charging outside with one hand, while fending off a furious man headbutting his back with the other.

"H-happy New Year, children..." Mr. and Mrs. Holmes greeted them, both staring blankly.

"Hahaha, happy New Year, sir, ma'am. I'm Sitangna, hahaha..." Sitangna hurriedly straightened her clothes, which had been tugged into a mess, and hid behind Sherlock with a sheepish grin.

"Ahem, I'm John Watson, Sherlock's roommate. Happy New Year, Mr. and Mrs. Holmes."

Watson's face burned red. A moment ago it had been from anger; now it was from embarrassment. As he walked, he chided himself for acting like a child when he was a grown man in his thirties.

It was all Sherlock's fault!

"Mike's a little busy with work and won't be here until very late, so we don't need to wait for him." Mrs. Holmes took them upstairs to put their luggage in the guest rooms. There wasn't much, really; each of them had brought only one change of clothes.

"Mike is Mycroft. Mum liked both names when she named him, so she just uses them interchangeably," Sherlock explained quietly to the two of them.

The second floor was spacious, and Sherlock's and Mycroft's rooms were both there. Another room nearby was locked, and judging by the rust, the lock had been there for years.

"Once you've put your things away, come sit in the living room for a bit. I baked some cookies for you to snack on. Lunch will be ready soon!" The two watched Mrs. Holmes bustling enthusiastically up and down the stairs in her floral apron. Even Sitangna, who had seen her scenes in the show, couldn't help marveling.

How had this happy, slightly mischievous old couple given birth to such heaven-defying talents as Mycroft, Sherlock, and Eurus?

Their mother was warm and outgoing, did everything in a whirlwind of activity, and had once been an outstanding mathematician who had published quite a few well-known educational books;

Their father was kind and friendly, with a touch of humor in his speech. Mild-tempered and emotionally intelligent, he worked quietly behind his wife.

"Is Sherlock really their biological son?" Watson and Sitangna were curled up on the living room sofa, whispering to each other, when Sherlock appeared behind them and glared at them both.

"Talk behind people's backs and you might wet your pants tonight."

Watson rolled his eyes. Sitangna's lips parted slightly. "Even the fifteen-year-old cousin in the family of my second maternal uncle's third aunt couldn't come up with a threat like that."

"So what does that have to do with me at twenty-eight?" Sherlock picked up a cookie and munched on it. It still tasted just as it had in his childhood.

"No more bickering. Judging by the smell, it should be time to eat. Come on, let's help bring the food out."

Mrs. Holmes was an excellent cook. Today she had made meat pies, smoked salmon salad, and some roast chicken legs, while the main course was beef and potato stew.

The tomatoes and potatoes had been cooked until soft and fragrant, and the flavor was similar to Chinese food. The rice in the steamer, they heard, had been prepared especially for Sitangna.

"I spent ages learning from YouTube tutorials. Chinese cooking is so intricate; it's no easier than solving math problems."

"Thank you, ma'am. You're amazing. I haven't had food this delicious in so long." Sitangna poured the sauce over her rice and mixed it in, then wolfed down two big bowls, although the rice in Britain tasted a little strange.

"If you like it, have some more. Tell me what you want for dinner, and I'll make it for you." Mrs. Holmes watched Sitangna eat with a smile. The girl was well-behaved and pretty, and she ate politely too.

Most importantly, she had managed to become friends with Sherlock, which meant she was a very, very, very, very kind person.

The same went for Watson. After learning about his blog from Mycroft, she read every update as soon as it came out. Sherlock was incredibly lucky to have found such good friends.

After they had eaten and drunk their fill, Watson made Sherlock wash the dishes with him, while Sitangna helped wipe down the table and sweep the floor. With nothing to do, Mr. and Mrs. Holmes sat in the recliners in the living room, ready for an afternoon nap.

Once everyone had cleared the table, Sitangna looked at the snow-covered landscape outside and clamored to go play in it, since it rarely snowed in her hometown. Watson, who had eaten too much and wanted to help his digestion, seconded her, so Sherlock had to go upstairs and dig out the snow gear Mrs. Holmes had bought him as a child.

The gloves had a smooth, waterproof leather outer layer and a fluffy faux-fur lining, but since Sherlock had used them as a child, Sitangna worried they might be too small.

"Yay, they fit perfectly!" Sitangna put on the five-fingered gloves and wiggled her fingers in front of Sherlock to show how freely she could move them, her eyes crinkling with her smile.

"The leather fastener on this hat is broken, so it might let the wind in. I brought an extra tightly knitted scarf. You'll be fine once it's wrapped around you." While Sitangna fastened her gloves, Sherlock brushed the bangs off her forehead and put the hat on her.

He then wrapped a large scarf around her, starting at her head and working down to her neck, only stopping once her entire head was bundled up snugly.

His movements were gentle and extremely patient, leaving Mr. and Mrs. Holmes, who were sitting on the sofa nearby, utterly dumbfounded.

"He knows how to take care of people? Since when?" "Want to bet? Eight chances out of ten, she's our future daughter-in-law."

Sherlock took the other glove, which Sitangna couldn't fasten, and, after making sure it was properly secured, patted her head. "There. Go play."

"Last time you said I was dressed like a bear, and today you've wrapped me up like one!" Sitangna saw herself bundled up like a zongzi in the full-length mirror by the door and let out a cry.

Watson, who was already packing a snowball in the snow, couldn't stop laughing when he saw her. With the hat, scarf, and gloves, along with Nana's own long down coat and snow boots, she really did look like a little bear.

"Sherlock, take this!" Before Sherlock had even closed the door properly, Watson had already thrown a snowball at him, unable to wait any longer.

"Hit, nine points." Sitangna raised a hand like an announcer, making for a comical sight.

With Watson targeting him, Sherlock dodged left and right, avoiding the next few attacks. He couldn't be bothered to make snowballs because his hands would get cold, and only wanted to watch from the side.