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John was going to kill Harry, she had somehow got the news to their mother that Sherlock would be at 221B alone for Christmas and Mum had decided that John was to bring him to the family festivities on the Watson farm for the Christmas weekend. John ground his teeth as quietly as possible, he loved his mother but her gregarious nature had definitely gone to Harry and skipped him entirely. “Bring him Johnny it will be fine. You’re always posting about how clever he is on your blog and we'd love to meet him. Your uncle Robert can finally have his fungus debate" Mum had already got Sherlock into the family fold in her mind and John didn’t want her to be hurt when Sherlock decided he’d rather dissect the foot he was trying to hide in the freezer than spend Christmas surrounded by the madness that was the Watson Clan. “What fungus debate... Shrooms are illegal Mum! Sherlock’s also had some drug trouble in the past so maybe he should stay away from Uncle Bob. He’s not really a people person either Mum, he tolerates me well enough but the whole mob might, well, overwhelm him a bit” John hedged trying to find the right angle and not over do it or his mother would adopt Sherlock outright to protect him from the big scary world in general. “We're not savages Johnny, he'll be fine” She breezed over her son’s fretting and John bit back a growl of frustration, she was as stubborn as Sherlock some times. “There were sixty of us last year, I really don’t think he’ll be comfortable Mum. Remember that year with the mead" “John Hamish” His mother snapped and he felt his ears burn at the old childhood reprimand “You will never mention that year again and you will bring Sherlock Holmes to Christmas, are you listening to me? I can’t believe a son of mine is willing to leave a friend alone at Christmas!” He can almost hear her throw her hands in the air. Red faced by now John circled the lounge, he had always paced on the phone with his Mum... Only to come face to face with Sherlock himself who was standing quietly in the door way, no doubt observing John’s flushed features and slowly rounding shoulders. “But he likes being alone... Yes Mum, I’ll ask him Mum, if he says no I’ll can't force him into the car” John waved apologetically at his blank faced flatmate. “You were a soldier John, make a plan" She scolded, driving her point home having seen a hint of victory. “Gun point won’t work on Sherlock, he’ll just have a laugh and call me an idiot" John smiled at the still figure in the door way hoping he looked encouraging. “Sounds like he’ll fit right in Johnny ” She said but he almost missed it over Sherlock’s calm announcement. “You are an idiot John, you’re arguing with your mother. The woman raised you so we both know you’ll loose or feel horribly guilty" John stared in shock as Sherlock stepped quietly into his space and lifted the phone from his ear. “Is that him? Is he there? John ask him now quick" Faded from his hearing as Sherlock put the phone his own ear. “Mrs Watson, yes of course I’ll attend. Thank you for the invitation, John is as red a tomato at the moment, wouldn’t miss it for the world. What shall I bring?” Sherlock smiled at the phone looking perfectly sweet, John stared. “Nothing, nothing, just yourself and my unsociable son will do and please call me Mum.” She sounded flustered and John’s blush deepened, all woman sounded flustered at Sherlock, but his own Mother! “Mum, thank you. Though John really is the sociable one of the two of us but I’ll make sure he’s there and that he leaves his gun at home" John listened incredulously to his mother’s hearty laugh before the phone was pressed back into his hand and Sherlock casually started making tea in the kitchen. “See that wasn’t so bad John and we’ll go easy on him, it’s his first gathering after all, save the chaos for next time" She was reassuring him now that she had won, she’d always been magnanimous in victory. ...They arrived a bit later than planned as a case had run on a bit long. “Mum?” John called into the meleé “She'll be around here somewhere" John was greeted by cries of Jack or Jackie and Sherlock looked a question at him. “My nickname while my grandfather, John Robert, was still alive. Dad was Robert Miles, and I'm John, for my grandfather” John rattled off this off automatically having heard it all again and again as a child. “So the Hamish..." Sherlock started with a smirk. “My father was the Hamish, he was in the military like Robert, and John of course. Lunatics to a man but we love them don’t we" Mum explained pressing between them “In you go, drop your bags in John’s old room. You’re packed for the weekend?" “As instructed” John answered for them both as he led Sherlock upstairs. Sherlock had been introduced to the key figures and was generally shown around like prized cattle, this really did feel like family. He had settled in to observe the clan once the novelty of himself had died down and was heading back to the rather small group discussing the properties of illegal fungi when a lively if inexpert fiddle caught his attention. No doubt there was a musical branch in a family this large... He would ask John about it later and he followed the sound while it morphed into a simple but sweet lament. Mcpherson's Lament if Sherlock recalled his beginner lessons but the thought was quickly derailed when he saw that it was John playing, sawing delicately away at a battered old fiddle while those gathered about listened politely. “Jackie had a few lessons as kid, never made much of it though” Mum had appeared silently at Sherlock’s side and he was starting to see where John got his iron nerves from. “You look like you could play, you’ve a musician’s hands. Jackie’s got a surgeon’s hands like his name sake" She’d continued like she hadn’t just given Sherlock the shock of his life. “I do play" He blurted out, startled into honesty “l learned the violin as a child" “That would explain why he never mentioned it to you, violin is a lot fancier than the simple fiddle” She explained “He used to play that piece for my father before he passed. He was such a sweet boy" Mum then grabbed Sherlock’s hand and pulled him to the group. “John, you didn’t tell us Sherlock plays” She mock scolded as she pushed a still startled Sherlock towards John and the instrument. “Sherlock plays the violin Mum, he plays beautifully, but not this beat up old thing" Mildly in his cups John smiled at Sherlock who took the fiddle from him with a reproving glare “I can play a fiddle John, I did not however know that you could" “Why would I! I have you and the Strad giving concerts at all hours! Don’t need me scratching away on anything" Sherlock ignored the outburst as he politely checked the tuning before launching into a brief repertoire of lively Christmas carols. He was pulled away however after the standard fifteen minutes allotted to each player had passed though he was pulled back to his post after dinner, by the younger cousins who wanted a reel to dance. Harry made an appearance near to the end of the welcome drinks period, without Clara, which lead to far too much commiseration and too many offers of strong drinks, those quickly halted though when she politely declined. John cornered her by the tree to vent about her throwing poor Sherlock to the wolves. “The wolves Jack... He's fine, look at him! Poor Sherlock indeed” She hugged him tightly and walked away towards said poor Sherlock who was being treated like royalty by the younger cousins as his playing was a bit above the family's usually unfussy standard. “Ah, Harry, I understand I have you to thank for my attendance this weekend" Harry smiled at Sherlock's wine flushed face. “You’re welcome, where’s Mum?” She quipped before heading off in the direction of Sherlock’s tilted head. After a hearty dinner “SHER!" “LOCK!” had become a summoning charm for the younger set when they were ready to dance again but there was nothing to dance to, also when they needed a question answered to settle a discussion as they all read John’s blog, or when Sherlock had been out of sight for too long and they wanted to know he was still around. John kept an eye on Sherlock through the evening and was pleased to see how well he had adapted to the large gathering. Sherlock's suit jacket had come off between dancing sets and been commandeered by the two youngest who fell asleep under it after they'd tired of trying it on. John grinned as he’d seen Sherlock among those take photos but it was getting late and he knew Sherlock would play his fingers ragged if distracted enough. John had called last dance after checking on his fingers and as Sherlock held the final note the crowded great room had erupted into cheers and applause. He’d sketched a quick bow to his appreciative audience and packed away the instrument before retiring to John's side. “If you ever bring the Strad I think you’ll have the house down" John had whispered has they’d settled on the couch but John was smiling at him and that was enough. Mum sent the younger set to bed half an hour later so that Santa could stop by and Sherlock rose with the kids and trailed them into the sunroom with the promised bedtime story, The Grinch. John watched amazed as Sherlock followed his cousins to their camp beds in the sunroom to read a bedtime story and felt his heart melt as they all said good night. He collected two mugs of the grownup’s hot chocolate and carried them to their bedroom as Sherlock collected his suit jacket, and a hug and kiss from Mum. John exhaled slowly when he saw the double bed, he had explained Sherlock’s Asexuality to his mum reassuring her that their sharing a bed would be no problem and was glad Harry's coming out had taught the family to be more accepting. Sherlock was almost grey-faced when he came back from his night time ablutions. “Your father's side, the farm belongs to your father’s side doesn’t it" John looked up from his drink and felt a tired smile stretch his face. “That's right, you look like the walking dead but you’re right. Dad died in action so you can imagine Mum's response when I enlisted. You were amazing today. Don’t worry, everything will be much more settled tomorrow as most of the adults will have hangovers so the teens handle the little ones for the morning" John hoped he didn't cuddle in his sleep, previous girlfriends had found it charming but he wasn’t sure about Sherlock. “I don't know if I can manage that again" Sherlock smile ruefully as he held up a slightly split fingertip. “It was marvellous but I am rather drained” John waved to the other mug and Sherlock groaned as rich dark chocolate and smooth brandy made a decadent assault on his tongue. “My dad's old study is a kid free zone and no kids in the bedrooms either, gives the grownups some space" Sherlock took a deep breath, remembering the small library in the study and smiled. He could do this and maybe next year he would bring the Strad. John woke wrapped up in long arms and didn’t mind at all. Sherlock was just waking up himself and the expected awkward conversation turned into a simple “It’s all fine” on John’s part and a quiet “I don’t mind" from Sherlock. The next day loomed ahead but Mum had already knocked on the door as it was 11:30 and did they want any breakfast before it became lunch? Yes, they did.