Kim Robarts as Katherine Jaymes  |   Edward Hardwicke as Douglas Watson

David Burke as Dr. John Watson   |   Hugh Laurie as Dylan Thomason
 

                 Part of " ON THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS..."
                 *******************************************

         As Christmas Eve was about to arrive; Sherlock Holmes sat silently scribbling at his writing desk - the winter sun beaming brilliantly through the windows alongside of him.
         Katherine was even more silent as she lounged on the sofa behind him, her attentions engrossed in a novel she held before her.
         Sherlock watched her in a reflection of a silver coffeepot he had on his desk in front of him.  He grinned to himself as he thought she took no notice of him.
         In her hands was one of Watson's sea-faring novels which she had absently picked up.  As she read to herself, she let out an elaborate groan of dissatisfaction and brought the book down from her face.
         Staring at the far right wall, her face had a kind of glassy-eyed look of bleakness and indifference.
         Holmes decided to chance it and break the silence.
         "I was noting on the calendar that the Christmas season is once more upon us," he says, trying hard to sound light through his extreme dislike in forced conversation.
         " - If there is something you wish for me to obtain for you...?"
         Suddenly, Katherine's attention was drawn away from the wall and she stared into his back in which he seemed to draw up his shoulders in discomfort as she did.
         "You're buying us presents?" she asked in suspended disbelief.  Her brown eyes twinkled slightly.
         "It was at Mrs. Hudson's suggestion that I do so; and also your sister, Emma."
         "Tenacious aren't they?  I suppose you realized there was little point with arguing with a woman?  Besides, I knew at least that it wasn't your idea. 'My dollars are weak from inflation, yours from getting no exercise!'" she snarls, sarcastically.
         But, then her facial expression died down again as she answers.
         "Well, anyhow, what I want for Christmas you can't give to
me."
         Then, she was quiet again.
         "You sound fairly certain of that!" he answered, brusquely.
He was insulted that she thought something might prove to be too   difficult for him.
         "I am.  What I really want no one can give me this year," she
replied.
         Her voice trailed off for a moment.  "But, maybe you can give me -
         She sat up with the thought - but, then, blushed wildly.
         "- Ah, nah, forget it!"
         "Jaymes, I believe it is essential that the essence of my search must begin somewhere.  If you require something - then, put some sort of name to it!"
         "It's not named Fred or Stuart," she replied and actually smiled. As usual, she saw he was not smiling back at her strange humour.
         "Jaymes!" he exclaims.
         "You're a detective.  We could make it a little mystery.  It'll give you something to do."
         This hit a raw nerve in him; as he hotly answered.
         "I have plenty to occupy my time, my dear - without your pretty, little intrigues.  It really makes no difference to me.  I will begin to exert my energies -"
         But, Katherine was not listening,
         "I'll give you a clue - it's nothing of any material value.  It's something intangible."
         "Jaymes, has there ever been a time when you have listened to one word I have said?" Sherlock asked, starting to notice a trend in her annoying habits.
         "Only when I think you've said something worthwhile.  And as you can see, I'm not a good listener!"
         As usual, Kate cut him to the quick with her barbed sarcasms.  He winced, but couldn't help smirking a little.
         "You have a wicked tongue, my dear.  I pity the man who has to put up with you more than I."
         "And who would that be?" she asks.  She really was curious.  For the last few months they had been constant shadows of each other -
whether for bad or for good.  Mostly bad.  So much so that Watson had
come to occasionally refer to them as 'Gloom and Doom'.
         "Definitely not one who has a voice of his own.  He would never be given a chance to use it!" Sherlock says, happy at his own rebuttal.
         Now, Katherine was the one smiling.
         "So true!  So true!"
         But, then she seemed bored and uneasy.  She got herself up from the sofa and went towards the door.  She turned to him once more.
         "Well, I think I'm going to call it a night."
         She hesitated, then said.
         "- Just use your imagination - you're good at that!"
         With this little sidelong comment - she exited the parlour.  She left the door wide open as she departs so as to pick up on any remarks he may call out after her.  Yet, she felt she'd gotten in the sufficient last word.
         "You have a wicked, wicked tongue Ms. Jaymes!" he growled and then, feeling like the forced conversation was over -
         - he went back to work.

         (The following day was Christmas Eve.  Later on in the evening, as the hour was fast approaching midnight, people gathered for a small family-type celebration in 221B's small rooms.  The apartment had never been so busy or so full of noise; save perhaps when the Baker Street Irregulars dropped in.)

         Douglas Watson walks into the parlour with a cup of steaming apple cider nestled in his hands.
         Katherine was in the room as well.  She sat on the right-hand side of the wicker sofa, quietly.  Which was in Douglas' mind was unusual in itself.
         But, he knew the reason why she wasn't down in the kitchen with everyone sharing cider while helping prepare dinner for twelve.
         He circled around her to sit beside her; as he did he bent over and kissed her temple, gently.
         "Katherine, are you feeling all right?  It's so quiet and dark in here.  Perhaps you would like me to turn up some of the lamps?"
         Sitting down, she looked over at him.  His eyes, like Sherlock
Holmes were grey in colour - but, warmer.  His smile showed an open,
benevolent expression beneath his bushy, grey moustache.
         As she couldn't help smiling at his handsome, rounded face; she realized why she had been interested in him romantically a few months back.
         He had such a tender and responsive way about him - he was the only one who tried to get to know her.  To understand her for who she was.  She felt so protected with him, and his deep, gentle voice.
         'Too damn bad for me!' she thought to herself, 'He had to turn out to be my great-grandfather.'
         And, he was the one who she felt could have been just the right man for her.  He even had some of her sense of humour.  Probably hereditary.
         "Damn!" she growled, under breath.
         He looked startled.
         "No!  It's not you!  I'm fine, really - thanks," she responded, kindly.
         "I'm just wondering why I always miss out on everything that I have until it's too late?"
         "You miss your father?"
         Katherine looked up at him with a shocked expression.  He seemed to read her thoughts exactly.
         "You knew that?"
         "Yes, I did.  It is all right to miss him, but - what I don't understand - is why can't you see him?"
         "How did you know I missed my father?" Katherine repeated in a
dumb-struck fashion.  She sounded like a broken record.
         He held onto her hands, then - as if to say 'Forget it!'
         "Emma told me so," he says, finally.
         Kate seemed satisfied with this explanation.
         "Now, answer me, dear - why is it you cannot see your father?"
         "It's kind of complicated," she answers him after a deep breath.  How could she tell him, 'Because he hasn't been born yet'?
         " - I don't know how to phrase it - other than to just say that where he is makes it an impossibility."
         Douglas tried to ask the next question as tactfully as possible.
         "Is he in prison?"
         "Oh no!  Nothing like that!  He's - ah - he's in another country."
         "You have no money to see him?  I would not mind giving you a loan which you could pay in full at another time - "
         "No, Douglas, thank you.  It's just me and my father -
         - we haven't talked for such a long time...,"Kate answers, edging away from him on the couch.
         Her pulse was racing.  These questions were getting too hard to answer.
         "- Then, your mother surely -?"
         But, Katherine knew she'd be damned if she was going to let that woman ruin missing her father.  She interrupted Douglas.
         "Well!  I wonder when the festivities are getting started?  I'm dying to open some of these beautiful presents."
         She stood, abruptly and swiftly put some room between her and the couch.  And Douglas.  Douglas gets up to leave.
         "I understand.  I apologize for becoming too personal," he answers.
         "- And if you need anything, I'll be here - "
         He opens the parlor door.
         Katherine turns to stop him.  Feeling guilty that she'd been so cold towards him.
         "Douglas!"
         Hearing her voice, he turns back to look at her.
         But, she can't find the right words.  She was always apologizing for everything!  In her own inner, frustrated struggle, she had a total emotional collapse.
         She started to cry, helplessly.
         Douglas responded, instinctively to her plea for help.  Going over to her, he reached out to her and brought her into the safety of his arms.
         Bundling her in his attentive care.
         "There's more to the way you're feeling, isn't there?  The reason isn't simply for your father, is it?" he whispered over her sobbing.
         "- It's him, isn't it?"
         Kate started to cry even more.  But, Douglas separated her face from his shoulder to look her square in the eye.
         "I wish it were you instead," she whispers, her crying and tears subsiding, as she smiled petitely. "It would be so much easier.  I love you so."
         "And I love you, devotedly.  But, I'm not who you really want.  I'm too settled, too boring for you.  You live on challenges, drink in
adventure.  He does too.  You fit each other like a glove -"
         Katherine laughed at the foolhardy suggestion.  She scoffed at the idea.
         "- He seeks challenges as well - that's why he's chosen you.  This may be the biggest challenge of your life -"
         "Is it worth it, do you think?" she asks, uncertainly.
         He smiled with warmth at her. "I can't tell you."
         "Obstacles...," Katherine mumbles, suddenly remembering Emma's
predictions.  It seemed so long ago.  "Getting over walls -"
         "What?" asks Douglas in astonishment.  She seemed to be lost in her own thoughts.
         "Oh - It's nothing.  It's something Emma told me once.  I hate
her."
         "No, you don't!" he chided, quietly.  Rocking her slightly in his embrace.
         "No, I don't.  I really shouldn't shoot my mouth off so much.  And I'm always jumping head first into everything - "
         "Your courage to tell people exactly what you think is an honest and good trait.  I love your sense of humour - it attracted me to you.
          And trust your emotions, I think they know what they're doing."
          "Better than me," she kidded, laughing. "I'm glad they shouted, 'Look at Douglas!' a little while back."
          Douglas now laughs.
          "I'm glad we had that one fantastic month, Douglas, it's one of the happiest times in my life.  And I loved how your moustache tickled when we kissed."
          They giggled like children together.  She reached up, then,
cupping his face in her hands.  Leaning gently closer, she felt his warm kiss sweetly and slowly.  It felt warm, soft and she promised not to feel guilty for it if it were to be the last time.  He gently separated her lips with his own -
          - But, as she felt the kiss was getting too involved - thoughts of, 'Hey! Jodi, what are you doing?!  This is incestuous, my dear!' jumped out at her.
          She needed someone so much,
          And Douglas kissed so nice -
          She still didn't object and didn't pull away.  The kiss felt
fabulous.  She felt his arms hold her tightly against him.
          "Cider!! Cider, anyone?!!" screamed a frantic and very loud voice from suddenly behind them.
          Douglas and Katherine broke apart abruptly.
          Standing from her view, Katherine saw behind Douglas.
          "Ah - Merry Christmas, Olivia!"
          Olivia looked directly at Katherine with both horror and anger, totally ignoring Douglas' seasonal greeting.
          "Well - I better be going," answers Douglas, squeezing Katherine's hand fondly, he smiled at her with a blush in his cheeks.  "Good luck, tonight, Kate."
          She smiled with a shiver of nervousness. "Thank you."
          Patting Olivia's arm as he passed, he left the room.
          Katherine stood alone for a moment as if under the glare of a red-hot spotlight.
          Olivia's glare was about the same.
          Katherine shook.
          "Are you nuts?!  What the hell was all that about?!  Don't you know he's your great-grandfather?!!"
          "Why not announce it over a loud speaker, Shelli?" she snarled, as if licking her wounds.
          "Don't talk to me that way!  You're slowly trying to destroy yourself Jodi, and I'm apparently getting a front-row seat," Olivia answers, sullenly.
          "Well, no one asked you to!" yelled Katherine and ran off to
Sherlock Holmes' room just to escape her.
          "Jodi, what is going on?  I'm your friend - tell me!  You're
beginning to scare me -"
          Olivia runs after Katherine, her long dress trailing behind her as she raced beside Kate.  She pulled on her arm to turn her to face her.
          "- What is it?"
          "All of it?"
          "Every bit!"
          "I am being chased by a homicidal maniac every other week - only I don't know why.  I have constantly been romanced by so many men I've lost count, including an oncoming divorce to a man I was not in love with and another whom happens to be my own great-grandfather.  I also live with a man who on somedays thinks I'm his walking filing cabinet, and other days doesn't even know I exist.  I don't even know if he gives a damn whether I am here or not.  He keeps calling me 'Jaymes'.  I would love to eat french fries, wear blue jeans and see a little TV - had they been invented yet.  And I want to share jokes with my dad - only he's 100 years in the future and hate my mother - only she's not here to hate.  I even find I miss her - that's how screwed up I've become!  So don't come bitching to me that I have an attitude problem!  Because I have every reason to have that damned attitude!"
           "You act like you're the only one - I've got things I wished were different too!  It's no wonder you walk around with a chip on your
shoulder -
           But, you better look where you're walking for a change.  Your getting in some deep water if you start messing with Douglas," warns Olivia.  She pushes her red hair from her brown eyes which seemed doe-like and she walks over to Katherine.
           She touches her arm, gently with a calming fashion.
           "I was just feeling down and Douglas was trying to make me feel better!" explains Kate, wiping the tears from her wet cheeks.
           "How much better did you want him to make you feel?"
           Katherine looked at Olivia with a dirty expression.
           "I'm sorry," apologizes Olivia." - I thought you were attracted to Sherlock?"
           "Holmes?!  Everyone, for some reason, thinks that I'm attracted to him!"
           Katherine seemed strangely nervous all of a sudden; she drew herself from Olivia's grasp.
           She wandered about Sherlock's room, eyeing all his belongings remorsefully.  As if it were wrong - her being here.
           "Katherine, be honest with me..."
           Kate laughs to herself.
           "Shell - since when do you call me Katherine?" she cried. "I'm not even Jodi to you anymore.
           I don't even know if I am to myself as well."
           Olivia just rolled her eyes at her friend's strange suggestions.
           "It was a slip of the tongue.  I'm so used to everyone calling you Katherine."
           "I sometimes feel like I'm a different person," Kate mumbles, her voice sounded distant or dream-like.
           "Jodi!"
           "Why don't you just keep calling me Katherine?
           I've changed haven't I, Shelli?  You haven't.  I have."
           "Jodi!!"
           "Haven't I?!" she demanded to know and looked deadly serious as she turned to stare at Olivia's face.
           Frankly, it sort of spooked Olivia.
           Olivia got up and placed her hands on Katherine's shoulders.
           "Jodi, you're just tired and carrying everyone else's problems on your shoulders.  It's just too much for you."
           "Maybe you're right," she agreed, quietly.
           "I know I am.  You're not used to having all these conflicting feelings."
           "Conflicting feelings?  What conflicting feelings?" Kate asks, perking up in surprise.  What was she saying?
           "Trying to find Mr. Perfect.  Believe me, honey - he doesn't exist.  But, I'm pretty happy with George - Mr. Not-Too-Bad," Olivia mused and thought about her Inspector Lestrade with a gentle blush in her cheeks.
           "Is that in bed?" Katherine quipped.
           "See!  I knew you were in there somewhere Jodi Bergen!" Olivia jokes.
           Kate smiled.
           "Shelli, you're the best!"
           "Yeah!  But, I'm not a man."
           They shared a laugh.
           "Neither are a lot of guys we know."
           Again, they laugh in a sort of sexist opinion.
           Then, Kate still smiling becomes more silent.
           "Dylan is always up in the clouds, forever kidding around, never taking anything; even himself, seriously.  Then, you take Holmes - always the devout realist, always serious, never - well - rarely, ever laughing at jokes.  They're as different as night and day.  Maybe if we could combine them into one man - they'd be perfect!" says Katherine, melancholy.
           "Well, we both know that's impossible.  They'd never agree on which body they'd use."
           "You're very strange, Shelli."
           "Anyhow, why did you bring up Sherlock Holmes in a comparison with your ex-husband?" Olivia inquired, making a pretty, good detective herself.
           Olivia turned more somber, suddenly.  Walking over to Holmes'bedside, she sat on it slightly and brought Katherine to sit next to her.  She placed her hand on Kate's right knee.
           "Shelli!  Are you making the moves on me?  I'm not even your type!" Kate laughs at kidding her.
           Olivia gave her a hearty shove over sideways.  She was insulted.
           "Oh, shut up, Jodi!"
           They both laugh, again.
           Then, Olivia was silent.
           Katherine looked her over, expectantly.
           "Jodi, if you had to choose one man among the three - you know - Dylan Thomason, Sherlock Holmes, or even, Douglas Watson...honestly, who would it be?" Olivia asks, straighforwardedly.
           "Is this 'Love Connection'?" Kate kids. "Any more chooses?"
           "I'm serious!" scolds Olivia.
           "I can't believe that!"
           Olivia didn't answer her, but stared at her intently.
           Katherine groaned.
           "One man - ?"
           "Jodi!"
           "Alright!  Alright!" Kate smiles.
           But, the truth was harder than the jokes.  Katherine felt her skin tingle coldly with her nervousness.  She wasn't sure she was ready to say it.  She knew it, so did Douglas.  Yet could she say it?
           "Jodi?" asks Olivia.
           - Katherine continued the pregnant silence.
           Olivia looked her over, concerned.  There was a distant, empty stare in her dark, brown eyes that looked like midnight to Olivia.
           "Everyone, except me, seems to know about it already.  I guess they can see something I couldn't.  Maybe it's how he looks at me.
   Maybe it's his eyes.  Maybe it's just him.  I'm still scared to admit it to myself, never mind anyone else.
           But, I can't deny it anymore -
           - it's Sherlock Holmes."
           Olivia smiled, warmly at Kate's deepest secret.  A secret that truly many already knew.  She held tightly onto her trembling hands.
           Katherine smiled shakly at her and her face was flooded with colour.
           "Maybe we can just put a big, red bow on his forehead and stick him under the tree?" jokes Olivia.
           Kate grins.
           Olivia hedges, but asks another question.
           "What do you really want from him?"
           Kate looks at her.
           "For Christmas, you mean?" asks Katherine.  Although she knew she'd meant something else.
           Olivia looked saddened at her denial, but decided to leave it alone.
           "Well," starts Katherine in thought. "Perhaps he could play the song I hum as a composition on his violin, or maybe he could buy me a summer home in the country.  Or even some tickets to the next Metallica concert."
           "Funny, Jodi!  Can't you ever be serious?"
           "When am I ever serious?  Shame on you, Olivia!"
           "Olivia??" she asks.
           Katherine smiled at her.
           "Now you're just being spiteful!" Olivia snarls, but smiles back.
           "Is that all you want from him?"
           "Nosy, aren't we?" Kate answers.
           But, she answers her without hesitation - feeling it may become therapeutic.
           " - I want him to reach out his hand to me or any other part of him," she says this with a snicker, "in a peace offering.  To approach me - alone -"
           "And then you confess your deepest desires?" Olivia asks, tantalized.
           "I'd rather he come to me and tell me first.  I don't want to show my weaknesses in order to change his mind and have him feel sorry for me.
           I want him to yield to his emotions just a bit.  To be impulsive,free and relaxed around me -
           To come to me and say 'I'm scared, too.'"
           "So, in other words, you want him to treat you as he would John?"
           "Well, sort of.  I mean he trusts John impeccably.  He tells him things he would never tell anyone else.  I would like that kind of trust.
           He looks at me and he sees a woman.  A woman, as quoted by
Holmes:
           'He disliked and distrusted their sex, but he was always a    chivalrous opponent.'
           That's all he sees in me and it's not fair!"
           "Jodi, you want him to see you as a man?  That's not very romantic.  He should see you as an intelligent, willful, and proud woman!"
   Olivia remonstrated.  She felt like getting a picket sign and pushing for the woman's right to vote.
           "And it would be nice if money grew on trees, too.  But, life isn't fair.  Life is never easy.
           All I want is for him to see me fairly and honestly.  That I have my own emotions and problems like his own.  To see, with an open mind, me as a person who is caring, a little fearful and who is willing to understand - human.
          Why can't he see me as just not another woman?  But, as his
friend?"
          "You don't want him only as a friend, I hope?" Olivia asks,
appalled.
          "No, but it's a start."
          "Then, he should see you as a woman!"
          "Olivia, you're missing the point.  Why does it need to be so
complicated?!"
          She sighed, elaborately.
          "I want him to come to me because he's tired of walking away.  It doesn't need to be a battle between the two of us all the time.  But, I'm tired of being frightened of each other.  I wish he could put his trust in me.
          Just being there with me because he wants to be."
          Suddenly, outside came the noise of the other members of the house gathering in the parlour next door to celebrate Christmas.
          Katherine is relieved to get up and take a breather from the deep conversation she was having with Olivia, and have some fun.
          Kate looked one last time to Olivia.
          "I'd give anything for him to believe in me instead of directing every bit of hate he has in life towards me.
          The only reason I insult him sometimes is to protect myself.  In self-defense -
          You know, I really think he has more faith in the abilities of his favorite bloodhound, Toby, than he has in me!  It's sad, isn't it?"
          Katherine lowered her eyes to avoid showing the fact that there were tears in them.
          Olivia watched her silently - it hurt her to see her best friend's heart breaking.  But, behind her back; in her hands, she held hope.
          In Olivia's grasp was an intrinsically-designed miniature hope chest.  The dark wood was made with oak and cut into the little, latched lid was a beautiful impression of a quail sitting in a fruit tree.  Rosettes and flowers lined the sides of the ornate little box.  It was locked by a small, brass padlock.
          She brought it from behind her back and presented it to Katherine.
          Kate's eyes shone in the dimly-lit room.
          "This is for you, Jodi.  Merry Christmas," Olivia announced in a sweet, hesitant whisper.
          Katherine wiped away her tears and perked up in surprise.
          "Oh, Shelli!  You're terrific!
          This will be a great place for all my little favorite trinkets and doo-dads."
          "No!  No!" Olivia protested. "It's not the box I want you to have - it's what's inside of it."
          Katherine looked puzzled and excited - it had to be something
good.
          "Inside of it?  Shelli, what are you up to?"
          Then, Kate tried to fiddle with the lock.
          " - How do you get this thing open?"
          "Oh damn!  I forgot the key! - I wonder if he left it around here somewhere...?"
          It took no genius to figure out who the real owner of the box was.
          "Is this Holmes' box!?  Shelli, shit!  You're going to be paying through your teeth if he finds out.  Either that or Russian Roulette with his prized revolver and you as the target!"
          Kate looked nervous, she so normally peeked through Holmes'
belongings it was a normal occurrence - but it wasn't fair to just take his things.
          "Watson lent it to me," Olivia replies, to calm her fears.
          Kate walks over to the bed and lays it down.
          "No, thanks Shelli, I don't want it."
          Olivia looked up from her futile searching to stare disappointedly at Katherine.
          "But you've gotta see it!  It may change your mind about
Sherlock," Olivia pleaded. "You're in there,"she confesses.
          Katherine was shocked. "What do you mean 'I'm in there'?!"
          Suddenly, Dr. Watson peaked around the corner of the doorway.
          "Ah!  There you ladies are!  The party is about to start, and Kate - we have special guests," he chirped, happily.  Maybe he'd managed to get Rachel alone with him under the mistletoe.  Obviously, Christmas was having a good effect on him - his cheeks were rosy and his brown eyes glowed.
          "We'll be out in just a moment, John," Kate answers, sullenly. "Don't tell Holmes were in here, O.K.?  We're just talking -"
          "I promise I won't.  But, do hurry and come out, or you'll miss everything."
          He disappears and shuts the door, quietly - to give them some
privacy.
          "Now.  Do you want to tell me what you were talking about?"
          "Just look at it later," Olivia said, petitely. "Let's go out and relax a little.  But, at least don't forget to take it with you.  Only don't let Sherlock see it."
          "Michelle!  You know I don't like this.  And I still don't know what you meant about what you said before - "
          "Later!"
          "Shelli!"
          But, Olivia had already opened the door and made a b-line for the get-together outside.
          Katherine decided it was useless to argue, but she took the box out with her anyway.

          (Later, that evening):

           Presents were being circulated around to eager gift openers about the room, when the bell downstairs rang.
           "They're here!" announced John, as he sprang off the sofa.
           Everyone starts muttering among themselves, as Sherlock Holmes stands solemnly by the fire with one hand placed possessively on the mantelpiece.
           Katherine watches him from the sofa in a bitter and contemplative manner.  She never muttered a word.
           Mrs. Hudson jumps up from her place at an armchair to follow
Dr. Watson.
           Soon, the guests arrive in the room.
           They were none other than Lynn Trencott and Michael Brunet.
           Katherine and Sherlock greet them warmly and ask them to join the festivities.
           As the night goes on, Dylan has become obviously sloshed and hits on every person in a dress;  Ethan tries to play volleyball with Olivia and the unwrapped paper;  Mrs. Hudson is tearing her hair out over the mess; Rachel and Dr. Watson secretly hold hands;  Emma starts to dance with Charlie;  Lynn and Michael share jokes with Douglas and also Olivia later on;  Michael sweetly bestows a kiss to Katherine under the mistletoe; Lestrade arrives late; but he blesses everyone with gifts.
           And Sherlock Holmes has disappeared from the room, entirely.
           Katherine seems the only one who notices.  Including the fact that none of the pretty gifts she'd unwrapped seem to have come from him.
           Kate gives a futile glance to Olivia who is, again, playing
wrapping-paper volleyball with Ethan.
           She taps her on the shoulder.
           "Shelli, I think I'm going to call it a night," she groans and starts to get her gifts into a collective pile. "Thanks for the presents everyone!"
           Douglas across the room in conversation with Michael, looks up."You're leaving us already, Kate?"
           "I guess so.  I'm really bushed - I think I may have a cup of coffee with Mrs. Hudson in the kitchen.  But - well - good night everyone!  Merry Christmas!"
           Olivia watched her go to them and bend over for a family-like kiss and hug.  There was a certain sadness to it all.
           Olivia grabbed her arm before she left.
           "He didn't get you anything, did he?" she whispered in her ear.
           Standing in the doorway, Kate looks at her with emptiness in her eyes.
           "No!  How about you?"
           "Just a nice book of poetry and a fragrant scarf."
           Katherine nodded, grimly.
           "At least he thought of you."
           Walking from her grasp, she left the room.

           (Later in the kitchen, Mrs. Hudson offers to sweeten up her
coffee, and it becomes obvious that she's simply trying to be sympathetic, and make her feel better.  Katherine decides, nicely, that it would be better to finish her coffee in the upstairs parlour.):

           When she enters the room, the quiet is eerie.  Everyone has
either left or retired for the night.  Any sign of Christmas has vanished.
           Off in the corner stands Emma's lonely, little evergreen tree- twinkling with bright, electrical lights - a luxury in that time.
           Katherine tries hard to ignore it and sits in the bay window - staring blankly out at people and hansoms bustling along the frozen
December streets.  It was a blanket of pure white for as far as the eye
could see.
           Glancing briefly behind her, she sees Holmes' bedroom door - it's still open.  At least - she thinks - he's not in his room.  She was thankful she wouldn't have to face him.
           'That man!' she growls to herself.  Couldn't he have given her - something? - anything?  'Even Michelle got a gift!'
           Why was it so hard for him to acknowledge her?  Just a sign?
           The only time he ever did is when it was in her successes with him on a case.  As long as they were a team, and not a couple - it was fine with him.
           Katherine felt a pain grip her chest in an avoidance to crying.  She felt lonely and frustrated - hopeless and desperate.
           Then, she could avoid it no longer.  She glanced over at the box Olivia gave her sitting on the sideboard next to the door.
           There beside it - she finally notice it.
           - A set of seven, ordinary metal keys.
           "Where on earth did those come from?  Olivia must have found
them-
           - Oh well, at least I can open her gift.  After all, she's got me curious."
           She picked up the present and stroked it with her fingers, as if she were picking up her cat, Theresa to pet.
           As if by radar, Theresa appears - she approached her mistress and rubs her sleek, calico head against the rough, wooden edges of the box in Kate's hands.
           "No, no, Theresa, darling - this is mine -," Kate purred and pats her soft back.
           Suddenly -
           "Katherine!!" shouted a man's voice which crept up her back and made the hair on her neck stand up.  If she'd been Theresa - she would have been clinging to the ceiling about now.
           The voice was unmistakable.  The voice belonged to Sherlock
Holmes.
           He stood directly behind her.
           She felt the blood rush to her face, as she spun around on her heel to face him; dropping the box and Theresa as well.
           Theresa didn't like the clumsy gesture one bit and scrambled
madly to get out of her arms.  In the process, scratching her left arm to shreds with her razor-like claws.
           "Ah, shit!" Katherine cursed.
           "Katherine!" exclaimed Holmes, again. "Do be careful!"
           "I'm sorry!" she muttered, angrily and holds onto her bleeding arm.
           She nearly started to cry from the pain and frustration.
           Holmes could see she was injured.
           "Are you alright?" he asks, tenderly in concern.  Reaching for a hankerchief from his pocket, he reaches around her and gently takes her sore arm. "Here, let me wrap this around it."
           She responded to his help instinctively - not caring anymore that she'd hurt herself.  It felt nice to see him worry for her.
           She looked down at him, quietly as he works on her arm - she felt like a child in his care.
           Katherine smiled, but -
           "God!  You scared me half out of my wits!  Why the hell did you yell at me like that?!" she says, finally feeling insulted.
           "You were tampering with vital evidence, Katherine.  How are you feeling about going on the hunt, tonight?  We have a case that needs our attentions," he answers, abruptly.  He looks up, then, at her and there was fire in his eyes.
           But, Katherine just smiled, ignoring him - she reached out her right hand and caressed the side of his smooth, soft face.  Curiously, she ran her fingers over a mole on his jaw.
           "Katherine, really!" Holmes scolded, softly - taking her hand from his face.
           "You keep calling me Katherine - I like that - it sounds much better than Jaymes.  Jaymes is so impersonal, and a man's name."
           "If you do not wish to accompany me - then, I shall go it alone; as Watson also seems to be otherwise preoccupied tonight," he snorted, contemptuously.  He chose to ignore her words.
           "Lucky Chelsea," Katherine says to herself. Then -
           "A case??  Give me a break!  If it were a real case you would have gone out the front door hours ago!  Besides, of which, why are you hanging around me?  You might as well have gone alone."
           "So I shall.  It's a quaint, little problem that has arisen of late.  You probably can recall the strange incident of the Tavistock
robberies?"
           "They've solved it?"
           "Jaymes, has your mind been evaporating into thin air before my eyes?  The keys are the final clue - if we can confront the robber with these, it will have confounded the man into confessing."
           "Is this where you're going, then?" she questioned. "You're doing this man in on Christmas Day?  You certainly have a generous soul, Sherlock."
           He looked up at her startled - so seldom had she used his first name.
           "Yes, I'll go.  You need someone to be backup in case something goes wrong.  Besides, I've drank enough coffee to keep me up for two days."
           "Then, let us be on our way -"
           He gave her a quirky, quick little grin that looked more like a nervous twitch on his face.
           "Do you want me to bring my revolver?" Kate asked, calmly.
           Just then, a most terrified look crossed over Sherlock's face.
           She just stared at him.
           "What?  You always ask Dr. Watson to bring his!  I'm just
bringing mine for protection."
           "You personally own a revolver?" he asked, still horrified.
           "Why?!  You think I'm going out in the streets alone with that weirdo after me unarmed?!  You must be crazy!"
           Still, he wasn't satisfied.
           "Yes, I certainly must be.  To think you know how to service a firearm after nearly debilitating the nefarious Charles Augustus
Milverton," he answers, smartly.
           "I just wanted to see him dance.  I do know how to use a gun, a piece, whatever you want to call it -" she says, nonchalantly.
           " - Certain death, I should think," Sherlock says, sarcastically.
           "I thought this was an important case, Holmes?"
           "Right!  Let's be on our way!" he repeats, and dashing his coat off a nearby chair.  He swings open the door wide - but hesitates for a moment.
           " - By the way, Jaymes.  What was that large object you dropped on the floor with the cat?"
           Katherine cringed.  Backing up a few steps until she felt it
against her ankle; she kicked the box into an opening under the sideboard.
           All this was unseen to Holmes, as her long, dark skirt covered what she'd done.
           "Oh, nothing - "
           Content with this, he quickly started for the first-floor stairs.
           Breathing a sigh of relief, she followed him out the door - grabbing Mrs. Hudson's woolen shawl - a size too small for her - on the way out by mistake.
 
           (On the road to Tavistock, at about 12:30am):

           Kate had never been to Tavistock before, and the road was both forbidding and foreign to her.  Not to mention, bitterly cold.
           She wished she'd brought her own shawl as she huddles in a corner of the cab to protect herself against the chill.
           "Would you care for a briefing, as we are almost there?" Holmes said, suddenly.  He sat across from her.
           Kate really couldn't care less. "Knock yourself out -!"
           Holmes grimaced at her little idioms.
           "The man committing the dirty deed is one, Richard Donaldson of Upper Swanstead.  He has been committing crime for the past twelve years, now.  He is a professional criminal.  The official police have had no leads.  Which comes as no surprise to me - since they have not been searching in the right region.  They have been confining themselves to Swanstead.  Mr.Donaldson has a singular and clever mind, he can see opportunities where they lie - beyond the heavy hand of Scotland Yard.  What is his most lofty goal in this, you might ask yourself?  These keys..."
            He holds them up to behold from his vest pocket.  They are
barely visible in the dim light of the carriage.  But, the clanging noise of the metal makes them noticeable.
            "...These seven keys open seven safety deposit boxes of the
wealthiest men in England.  A prize worthy of any master thief."
            "How is that those keys are in your possession?" Katherine asks.  She was beginning to wonder if he'd stolen them himself.
            "I inquired their whereabouts from the gentlemen themselves.  Presenting my name and credentials - they offered their help willingly once they discovered the imminent danger to their noble possessions."
            "So how do you plan on nabbing Richard Donaldson, tonight?" she asked, leaning forward.  It sounded like it might actually be worth her interest.
            "We shall wait in a nearby deserted boathouse of Mr. Nayland Walker of 18 Richland Road.  He has generously lent us permission to occupy it, for the view to his house and lawn is an excellent one.  We shall from there be able to get a clear view of Mr. Donaldson entering into the home of Mr. Walker to rob him of the latch keys.  You see, Mr. Nayland Walker is the trustee to the safe boxes, himself a member of the Royal Mason's Secret Society.  Only those most trusted and loyal can be given such an honour."
            "- He could actually conceivably steal the goods himself,"
Katherine interrupts.
            "Ah!  But, is death worth the price of glory?  Masonic rites are very strict - and very vindictive!" he answers her, a devilish grin on his face.
            "And then, Nayland Walker goes and gives it to you!" she says with sarcasm.
            As she does, the driver pulls to a stop.  Katherine glances out the window to see where they were.
            They were parked in front of a lonely, little old brick home tucked away behind the protection of a medium height wall and two iron-cast gates, which gleamed and sparkled with coats of ice.  It looked isolated and frightening, like out of some Alfred Hitchcock film.
            The lights were all snuffed out at the home just up past the lane in front of them, except for one room on the ground floor in which a light flickered and danced within.
            "That will be Mr. Walker," Sherlock Holmes answered, stepping from the cab.
            Katherine stepped out behind him.  He didn't offer his hand - although normally he would.  He knew her rule about treating her as an equal.  The cabbie pulled away with the hansom.
            Kate looked to where he was talking about. "Do we meet him, or do we go directly to the boathouse?"
            "He has also granted me the key to the boathouse door - we will go there first and wait for his signal.  Please, do your best to tread the snow as lightly as you can - we must be noiseless and stealth.  We also must sit in the dark once in the room," he instructs her.
            She simply nodded, doing as she was told for once without a word spoken.
            But, as soon as she took one step forward on the walk before her - the ice cracked under her feet.
            "Quietly!" he whispered, harshly. "Give me your hand and follow me closely!"
            She looked up at him with dread in her heart.
            Slowly, from his pocket - he slipped out his right hand and
offered it palm up before her.
            His face, was benevolent and remarkably tolerant.  A chivalrous and tolerant opponent?
            'Damn!  Don't think about that now!' she thought.
            Kate found her heart drumming away in her chest.  It was a real nervous feeling that overcame her.
            'Stop it!!' she yelled in her mind, as if she could turn her heart off like a switch. 'Stop feeling like that!  Just take his hand!'
            Reaching out to him, she grasped his hand in her own.  He pulls her to his side.  Leading her closer, he tightened his grip on her fingers and brought her over the large ice puddle formed under her feet.  He starts walking away, and pulls her alongside of him.  Katherine followed his swift pace, exactly.
            Soon, they'd made their way to a lonely and deserted boathouse.  Releasing her hand, he fumbled around for the loose key somewhere within his coat pocket.
            Katherine stood close to him and glanced around cautiously.  The place was slightly scary in the dark.  She could imagine seeing shadows move where none existed in the yard about her.
            Finally, Holmes opened the door and they walked in.  The rooms were lifeless in the night and there was no furniture in the empty house.  Unless it was the large objects covered with beige, burlap tarps everywhere about them.
            "Find a seat, Jaymes.  We shall be here for awhile," he told her.
            Silently, she wandered to a dusty little spot on the floor next to the right-hand window.
            Holmes, then, naturally went to the left side and sat in the glow of the window there.  The dim light silhouetted his face and cast a long shadow next to him upon the floor.  Katherine's eyes began to adjust to the lack of light, and she fixed them upon his face.
            She carefully detailed every feature of his characteristic face in her mind.
            He sensed her stare and looked up openly at her.
            She appeared dumbfounded for a second.
            "How did you know he'd come tonight?" she blurts out.
            "Because I have been tracing his movements for the past month.  The results could only come to an end on this evening," he answers her, bluntly.
            With these words, he looked out the window beside him, like an predator waiting for his prey.
            Katherine tried to nestle herself in Mrs. Hudson's undersized shawl again - but, her efforts were for nothing.  She was freezing and she could feel it in every bone.
            The silence that ensued between them seemed to last for half-an-hour.  When -
            "Are you cold?" he asks, suddenly.
            Katherine jumps up with his words.  She'd been slowly drifting off into half-sleep.
            "Huh?  Oh - no, I'm fine," she grumbles, waking up slightly.
            Despite her reassurance, she sat there, trembling, pathetically.
            "I have no need for my overcoat - if you wish to use it -?" he offers.  His voice barely above a whisper came across like a velvety
growl.
            "Really, I'm fine."
            "Then, make sure you keep your wits about you!  I realize that my asking you here this evening was a bit unorthodox."
            "Nah!  It's been just the two of us on plenty of cases before."
            "Yet not at this late an hour."
            Katherine was getting a little perturbed. "Holmes, I'm fine!"
            But, she didn't feel it.
            Her eyes felt heavy and her vision was blurred.  Not even the cold could keep her awake.
            She started drifting off, again.
            "So - do you have any plans for your Christmas Day tomorrow, Katherine?" says Holmes, in abrupt change of mood.  He sounded like Lil'Mary Sunshine.
            Kate looked at him with a weary gaze.
            "No, not really," she grumbles.
            "Ah -," he says, absently.
            He was desperate to keep her awake.
            Her head fell on her chest and she was asleep.
            "Katherine!" he yelled.
            Her head sprang up in terror.
            "Was everyone happy with their gifts?" he asks, strangely.
            Katherine gave him a weird look. "Yeah, I suppose so..."
            "What did you get everyone?"
            She could plainly see the grimace on his face and could tell this friendly little chit-chat was driving him nuts.
            "Umm...," she thought, although she was in sort of a haze. "I got Douglas a tie pin, I got Emma some new boots, Rachel an older book of musical lyrics, John a new medical bag, George a set of cards and a memo book -
            Oh God, I never gave you my presents I bought you!" she exclaimed.  Here she was complaining about his stinginess.
            "It's of no consequence, Jaymes, really.  The holiday season is practically finished as it is," he explains and sniffs as if to blow it off - that it never bothered him.
            "Nonsense!  I'll give it to you when we get home."
            He made no reply to this, just continued to stare out the window next to him.
            "I certainly enjoyed getting gifts from everyone..." she mutters.
            He looks up at her.
            "You never stated what you wished me to purchase for you!" he snarled.
            She ignored him.
            Then, there was a pause in their conversation once more.
            Katherine studied him for awhile.
            "Where did you go to college, Holmes?"
            He glanced at her face.
            "I beg your pardon?"
            "College, you know, higher education..."
            "Cambridge," was his answer.
            Finally, the great detective confessed something that many Sherlock Holmes scholars had pondered for years.  They couldn't find the answer in the original canon - Kate finds it in a boathouse.
            "Really?  I always guessed it as Oxford!"
            Holmes laughed at the mere idea.
            "And you, Jaymes?  Where have you studied to gain what knowledge you have?"
            "Well, my dad wanted me to go to Harvard - but, I preferred just a basic college.  I used to get straight A's in high school."
            'High school...' he mused under breath.
            She seemed to enjoy totting her intellectual prowess.
            "It was in Chicago?" he asks.
            "Yeah."
            "Do you miss your father?" he asks, all of a sudden.
            "We're kind of changing the subject, aren't we?"
            Katherine fidgeted in her spot on the floor.
            "I realized that it must be extremely difficult to be so far from immediate family -?" he continues to question.
            "Well, I've got Chelsea and Danielle!" objects Kate.
            "Yet, you're not really close to your sisters -," he answers; he seemed to be glaring her down from his side of the room.
            "Listen, Dr. Freud, I'm as close to my sisters as anyone!" she cries and shivers at her anger. "You're right, though, I do miss my dad."
            "Tell me a little bit about him -," he asks.  Now, there
actually seemed to be a hint of interest in his voice.
            Katherine looked surprised.
            "Really?"
            "Yes."
            Kate paused to think for a moment. "He's originally from Alabama, so he speaks with a very obvious Southern accent.  He's about around sixty, I think.  Usually sporting a moustaches with his greying hair - which he says is from raising us! (But, I don't believe him.)  Dad is into the foreign-trade market - that's why he took up residence in Manchester, England - sometimes he travels back and forth between England and the U.S.
            My mother and father are divorced - they have been for six years.  My dad has pretty much been looking out for us since then, after all we were adults by the time they moved apart.  They should've gotten a divorce before that time - their relationship was rocky.  But, now they're best of friends."
            She hesitates for a moment. "I'm sorry.  I'm sure you didn't want to hear our entire family history..."
            "It is in fact, partly, your family's history that brought you here to this century," he answers; though he was only half-listening as he glanced occasionally out the window.
            "That's true," she muttered.
            "How well do you relate to your father?" Holmes asks.
            "Oh, we get along great!  I think we're of the same cut of cloth.  Though, I do drive him crazy sometimes."
            "You?  Surely not!"
            Katherine smiled at him and his little sarcastic remarks.
            "And your mother?  Tell me about her..."
            Katherine turned icy at his question.  She had suddenly become silent for no real reason.
            She refused to answer him.
            "Do you get on well with your mother?" he queried once more.  He felt like he was interrogating a criminal.
            She still says nothing.
            But, finally, grudgingly she realized that to be his friend - she needed honesty.
            "My relationship with my mother isn't!" she snarled, full of hate.
            This put Sherlock Holmes on edge - he'd never seen this anger in her before.  Not this much, anyhow.
            "She had an affair with four different men before I was sixteen; and while still married to my father.  She even brought a couple by to meet me - although I think she just thought I'd be home afterschool a little later on that day.
            Listen!  Can we just talk about the case or something...?"
            "Of course.  I apologize for becoming too personal," he says and tries to divert his attentions, again as he could see Katherine was starting to cry.
            "So, tell me a bit about yourself," she says over the broken tremble of her voice.
            "What would you like to know?"
            He asked this openly in order to calm her.
            "Where did you learn the violin?"
            "In my secondary schooling - I have always indulged in the study of musical lyricism.  I practiced and learned.  It was very simple."
            "What type of music do you like?"
            "The introspective German composers always know how to trigger that in the mind which is closest to the soul."
            "Bach?  Beethoven?"
            "Mostly, and others as well."
            "When did you solve your first case?"
            "When I studied at Cambridge at Bart's Laboratory.  In fact, that is where I first was introduced to - "
            " - Dr. Watson - of course!" interrupts Katherine. "Do you know it's boring playing twenty questions?  I'm always bored.  I thought travelling through time would be more exciting.  Well, meeting the legendary Sherlock Holmes definitely was...but, it's nice to find you're a somewhat normal person.  You still ask boring, trivial questions like everyone else."
            "I was simply trying to lighten your mood!" he answers, snidely.  "I actually didn't mind your asking me what you consider trivial questions."
            "I do feel better.  Thank you."
            He just nodded, quietly and looked out the damn window - again!
            "Anything yet?" she whispers, finding her voice had grown too loud.
            "Not that I can recognize," he replied.
            She felt uneasiness being in this room, alone with him and desperate to have an easy, spontaneous conversation with him.  It was so forced.
            "Is it usually so damp in London over the holidays?"
            His voice was like a low thunder as he answers.
            "London is notorious for it's endless precipitation, Jaymes.  By and far - the air, I believe, is in effect of people's sentiments of the place in which they live."
            "At Christmas, huh?" she laughed at such kooky logic - from him!
            "If what you're saying is people change the weather by their thoughts - I find that pretty hard to swallow.  There's a more driving force at work than us!"
            "Yes - greed."
            "Greed?!" she was laughing, heavily now. "What has greed got to do with anything?"
            "That's what Christmas has stood for for some time, now.  People toil everyday, greet people they normally despise and allow favors to others in hope for some return at the end of each renewed decade...all for some pretty, little boxes that will sit in their cherished family's closets until they return inquiring their whereabouts with hollow pain in their hearts," he answers, eloquently.  But, his words Katherine found hard to understand.
            "Does Charles Dickens know about you?" she smiled.
            Holmes gives her a dirty look.
            "Is that what you'll do with the presents I'll give you?  I'm giving you a gift because I -"
            He looked up.
            " - was forced by gunpoint."
            She started giggling.
            "You know, it's really nice us talking like this. It's like we've known each other for years.  Some things you do I hate, some things I like.  We've never been what I call friends.  But, it's not exactly impossible either.  Maybe this is a beginning.  That's why I gave you a gift.  That's really why I'm here tonight.  I want peace with us.  And I do like solving crime - it's exciting - but, the idea of getting to be here with you meant more.
            We always talk to one another, but never really listen.  Having you listen to me tonight is a nice present."
            Katherine grinned, again. "Lestrade even bought me a present.  I wonder what that means?"
            "It's probably poisonous wine," he says.
            Kate was furious.
            "Do you have any regard for anyone other than yourself?  You are a self-centered, opinionated - " she snarled, her mood shifting suddenly.
            "And what did he purchase for you?" he asked, confidently.
            She grumbled out her answer, so that it was barely audible.
            "A bottle of port."
            "What?!" he asks, loudly.
            "Port!  A bottle of port!!"
            Sherlock Holmes smiles to himself.
            "It's no wonder I hate you sometimes," she muttered, angrily.
            Katherine shivers once more.  Holmes could now clearly see her breath hovering in the air before her blushed face.
            "Jodi, you are cold.  You really mustn't lie or put on such a courageous front.  I will come over and lend you my coat.  We shall brace ourselves against the cold night air," he says, a bit nervously.  The thought made him uptight.
            "Jodi?"
            "It is your real name..."
            "That's even better than Katherine."
            Her face beamed a huge smile.  She never thought she'd hear her name pass his lips.
            Quietly standing up, without any misgivings or fear, he crossed the room to her side.  He sat down at her left.
            But, then - changed his mind and got up upon his knees before her.  Rustling out of his large, black overcoat - he proceeded to put it around her.
            "Here, sit up and I'll wrap this about your shoulders!" he told her gently.
            Doing as she was told, she felt him wrap her in his already warm coat.  It felt safe being in something he normally would wear.  As he tried to turn up the collar, he brought her face towards him in the process.
            Katherine looked into his eyes, nervously, as his face was only inches from hers.
            Very slowly, she moved closer to him.  She sat up on her knees, as well.
            He stared gently down at her with a look of tenderness and affection.  His blue-grey eyes seemed to shine in the light.
            With the thumb on his left hand, he ran it gently over the side of her face as he held onto the lapel of his jacket.
            Katherine closed her eyes in response of the sweet touch.  She felt her hands tremble, her pulse starting to race once more.
            His face was so that it took years off his age, suddenly.  He looked incredibly handsome.  Yet, his face displayed an intensity of purpose. She could have sworn she saw his chin shiver, and she knew it wasn't from the cold.  Then, again...
            He was scared.  Scared to death.
            "Jaymes - I mean to say - Katherine," he mutters.
            Katherine was moved by his clumsiness.  He was trying so hard.
            But Katherin knew to take the lead and just do it.  Reaching out for him, she puts her arms up around his neck, gently and pulls him up against her.  Holding him in the warm secureness of her arms.
            It was not some wild embrace.  It was soft, caring - a tender, friendly hug.
            Holmes wasn't sure what to make of finding Katherine finally in his arms.  He held out his hands behind her - not sure where to put them.
            "You're supposed to hold me back," she whispered in his ear.
            He placed his cheek in her hair and she could hear his breathing in her ear.
            Kate buried her face in his shoulder when she felt him wrap his arms around her waist, and squeeze her tightly in his embrace.
            He felt warm and real.  She stroked his hair and neck with her fingertips.
            Why had they waited so long to be together like this?
            "I apologize to you, my dear - I didn't mean to neglect your feelings in your supposed moment of need," he whispers.
            "This isn't pity, is it?" Katherine asks, quickly.  Her eyes opened wider - she cringes up against him.
            His answer was slow. "No.  But, I should explain -"
            "You don't have to.  I mean it isn't important right now.  Just hold me for awhile."
            He brings her closer in his arms.  He sighed, pleasantly.  Kate smiles.
            "So we're friends then?" she asks.
            "I have since the moment you gave great kindness when Watson was away, substituted you in my friendship.  Inviting such a mind as your own on cases is thrilling.  I have wondrous trust in your abilities, and faith in you as an individual; and therefore see you as a loyal friend," he answers.  His words sounded wonderful.
            "Is that yes?" she asks, smartly.
            He laughed, lightly. "Yes."
            "Well, I think you're pretty much a class act yourself, Mr. Holmes.  I like you, too.  I'm honoured you feel the same.  That may not be poetry - but, well - it's the truth."
            She separates herself from him, slightly and gazed in his eyes.  'That's not what I really want!' she felt like crying out. 'I want to be more than your friend.'
            They just smiled, nervously at one another.
            Then, patting her back, he let her go and sits down.
            Kate just kneeled there - feeling numb.
            'Oh!  Just great!' she thought.
            But, she went ahead and sat to his right.
            He pulls at a tarp alongside them - exposing an antique armoire underneath.  He threw it over their legs.
            Putting her arm through his - she laid her head against his shoulder.
            "I don't think Mr. Donaldson will show tonight," she mumbled, and decided to try sleeping.
            "Mmm...," he groaned. "Perhaps you are correct."
            She felt his muscles ripple under his suit.
            "You cold?" she asked, looking over at him.
            "No, no!" he objects.
            But, she would hear no such objection.  She wraps the remaining of the overcoat covering her, over him as well.
            They huddled close together.
            She, then heard his clear, low voice which echoed in her ears as she drifted to sleep.  A voice that always sent fabulous chills up her spine.
            '"Though you are in your shining days,
              Voices among the crowd,
              And new friends busy with your praise,
              Be not unkind or proud,
              But think about old friends the most:
              Time's bitter flood will rise,
              Your beauty perish and be lost,
              For all but these eyes."'
            "Yeats!" mutters Kate, half-asleep.
            "Close your eyes and rest for awhile, Jodi.  I'll keep watch."
            Within minutes, she was fast asleep.
            Sherlock Holmes smiled as he looked down at her by him.  A very interesting woman she was - tough yet fragile, sad yet funny, intelligent, clever and yet so simple.  Full of emotions she'd never even felt before, much less knew of.
            The fact they were for him made him feel protective and
responsible for the care of those feelings.
            If only he could show that there was much more than a friendship in his actions towards her.  And how incredible it was to have embraced her so close to him moments ago.
            Kate's head slowly began to slip off his shoulder, until it fell heavily into his lap.
            Holmes chuckled, softly.
            Placing the shawl under her head and the tarp over her legs - he watched her.
            Restlessly, she turned over on her back, and moaned something like words of some sort in her slumber.
            Just then, his eyes drifted down to her chest rising.  The
taffeta of the bodice of her purple gown strained with every breath she
took in and out.
            The temptation was wrong, but too hard to ignore.
            Very slowly, he reached out his hand and placed it over the
curve which he felt bulging from under her dress.  Nimbly, with just the tips of his fingers, he carefully caressed the shape.  It was small like an apple and somewhat soft to the touch.  His hand trembles,
uncontrollably.
            Then, his conscience gets the better of him.  He took his hand away from her.
            His cheeks burned with the discovery.  He'd never imagined that they would be so soft.
            'Put your mind on something constructive, old man!' Holmes told himself. 'Old man,' he thought, just then, 'I'm old enough to be her father.'  Even if the man was somewhere in his sixties, and he in his mid-50's.  It was near enough.
            Katherine never noticed a thing, as she slept soundly.
            Just at that moment, there was a flashing of light coming from the nearby estate.  It was the signal.
            He hadn't been looking out of the window for some time, now.  He considered it fortunate that he noticed.
            Holmes shook his leg to wake Katherine.
            "Jaymes!  Wake up!  Mr. Walker is signalling us - we must go up to the house to speak with him!"
            Kate opened her eyes, lazily.  She sat up immediately ready for action on hearing his words, although.
            Reaching down, she felt for her revolver tucked in her pocket.
            Holmes sat stunned for a moment.  'Thank God, she was asleep when I touched her!'
            Gathering up their belongings, they deserted the little house and ran for the bigger manor house just beyond the lane.
            There they meet, Nayland Walker.
            He was an elderly gentleman in his early 80's with thinning grey hair and a benevolent smile on his long, lean face.
            "Ah, Mr. Holmes, it's a pleasure!" he says, on opening his front door in his dressing gown. "Would you care for some tea?  I can have Louisa bring some up for you?"
            "No, that won't be necessary, Mr. Walker, as we have already dined.  Is there any news?"
            "Yes, there is.  Rather unfortunate, too."
            He turned to Kate.
            "I don't believe we've had the pleasure?" he answers, full of charm.
            He extends his hand and pulls Katherine in out of the snow.
            "This is my friend and associate, Ms. Katherine Jaymes.  She is assisting me on the case.
            Now, Mr. Walker, what news have you?" Holmes asks, impatiently.
            Kate liked hearing the word 'friend' in his sentence.
            "Well, as I say - it's unfortunate.  It seems this scoundrel Mr. Donaldson - the man responsible for the break-ins, who was also due here tonight -," Nayland rambles on.
            "Yes?!" snarls Sherlock.
            " - He seems to have been struck down by a passing cab and has collapsed.  They had no positive identification of the body - but, they are almost for certain that it is Mr. Richard Donaldson.
            I'm sorry, Mr. Holmes, to have left you waiting in a drafty, old shed for nothing."
            Holmes stood glued to the spot for the moment.  All the blood rushed from his face and his eyes stared off into the distance, vacantly.  He said nothing.
            "Are you sure I can't do something for you, Mr. Holmes, to at least repay your efforts?" asks the kindly Mr. Walker.
            "No!" Holmes answered, arrogantly and turning on his heels
marched out the door - starting to walk off across the field -
            - deserting Katherine.
            Katherine knew it wasn't personal.  He'd done the same exact thing to Dr. Watson dozens of times.  He was just upset over his personal failure.
            Katherine, compensating for Sherlock's rudeness, went up to
shake Mr. Walker's hand.
            "It's been a pleasure, Mr. Walker, I hope we will have the
chance to meet again..."
            "As I'm sure we will.  Thank you, Ms. Jaymes. Goodnight," he replied, still all smiles.
            "Goodnight!" she answers, and with a wave - he shuts the door to the house behind her as she left.
            Picking up the train of her skirt, she dashes through the snow.  She had to run like mad to catch up with Sherlock Holmes who was a good yard ahead of her.
            "Hey!  Wait up!  What's your hurry?!" she shouts after him.
            He finally stops at the edge of the yard, where the driveway began.  He was trying to see if he could hail a cab - but, in the country and on a cold midnight evening - it wasn't easy.
            She runs up to his side.
            He stood there, ignoring her.
            "I know you're upset - but - hey! - There wasn't anything you could do about it.  Fate is funny that way," she tells him, trying to be comforting.
            He acted like she didn't exist.
            "Holmes, I'm sorry.  Holmes?  Say something, please!" she says, desperately.
            "We will not catch a cab here.  We must walk!  Come Jaymes!" he growled, angrily.
            Now, Katherine was beginning to feel the same way.  She knew he had good reason to be angry - but, why did he need to act like it was the worst thing that ever happened to him.
            Grudgingly, she followed him quickly as he started walking away from her once more.
            It must have been a half a mile or so before they reached clear road - and still there was no sign of life.
            Katherine felt exhausted.
            "Can't we just turn around and go back to Mr. Walker and ask to borrow a horse and carriage?  He does owe us a favor for the work we've done...We can drive it out ourselves?"
            She was practically begging him.
            Still, he wouldn't answer.
            "Well?!" she yelled. "Do you have a better idea?"
            "Don't be such a nag, Kate!" he says, simply.
            A first!  And, the first time he'd ever called her 'Kate'!
            "I'm sorry.
            I seem to be saying I'm sorry a lot lately, only, I don't know what for - I haven't done anything!"
            "Katherine, please be quiet!  Let me think!
            This road apparently isn't connected to any busy suburban
thoroughfares."
            "No shit Sherlock!" growled Katherine in response.
            It was a general saying in her time.  In his time - it was not.
            He gave her a fierce look, as if to melt her into a puddle in her boots.
            But, she was blatantly ambivalent.  'Ignore me and I'll ignore you, buster!'
            "Well, we are getting nowhere here.  Let us go to Mr. Walker and ask for a horse and buggy.  After our considerable wasted efforts tonight- it is not an unfair request.  Do you not agree it is an easily acquired notion?"
            "Yeah!" she answers, bitterly. "I wish I thought of it myself."

            (Soon, both Katherine and Sherlock had made it safely home at Baker Street; thanks namely to Nayland Walker.  Katherine felt relieved to be home, but Holmes still was fuming - he'd been quiet the whole way home.)

            Walking in the door of the parlour, Katherine collapsed onto the couch and put her cold feet up on the coffee table before her.
            "Well, should we put on a fire?" she asks as she sees Holmes enter behind her.
            Sherlock Holmes said nothing.
            Walking behind the wicker sofa and entering his darkened room with a cough of disgust, he disappeared.
            Katherine groaned, frustratingly.
            "I'm freezing!!  Fine!  I'll put it on myself!"
            Getting up to go to the fireplace - she soon had the wood
crackling pleasantly in the flames.
            Then, she remembered something -
            - Olivia's gift.
            From where she stood she could still see it hiding under the sideboard.  She had time while he was out of the room to smuggle it
upstairs and tuck it away until she found the key.
            She ran over to it and stored it in the plant by the steps.
            Coming back into the parlour, she sat innocently by the fire.
            Waiting for him to reappear from his room, minutes tick by-
            - No Holmes.
            Katherine decided to go to him and see what was wrong.
            Walking into the doorway of his room, she stood on the
threshold.
            He sat on the edge of his bed, his arm drapped over the post along the end and in his other hand he held his cherry-red pipe.
            This was a clear indication he was in an argumentative mood.
            Dropping down the pipe from his lips, he looks up as he hears her approach with a startled stare.
            "It's warmer out here, you know," she replies, gently.
            "I don't require warmth at the present," answer Holmes, hotly.
            "So I can tell," cussed Katherine in return. "Would you like to open your presents?"
            He didn't answer her.
            Katherine felt empty.
            "Goodnight, then.  I hope you're feeling better in the morning!" she said, sullenly.  She turns to leave.
            But, she hesitates.
            "Why should I give you the satisfaction?!"
            She is speaking to herself, but says these words out loud.
            "I beg -"
            " - Yeah!  You better!  Look, I know tonight didn't go off as planned - but, it's no reason to act like the world has suddenly caved-in!
            By the way -
            - there is another bottle of cocaine resting in your writing desk."
            The words brought another stricken look to his face.
            "You're going to use it.  If not today, then tomorrow, surely?"
            "Katherine, I require peace and quiet.  You're beginning to
sound like the good Doctor.  Please leave!"
            "No, I won't leave!
            You're going to hear me out!
            You have a fantastic mind, you can see through people and all their evil ploys - but, you can't see beyond your own mental inhibitions -"
            "Katherine!!" he snarled.  His eyes were like burning coals - so full of hatred.
            "No, no!  You're going to let me finish.  You should see that your life and interests are restricted by you, yourself.  The incredible things that you could accomplish if only you tried.  But, all you work to accomplish is one diminishing field of study - crime.  Sure, crime will always be around - but, let the police handle it."
            Sherlock Holmes started laughing in her face at the absurd
thought.
            "My dear, you must be joking?!  Scotland Yard couldn't even find their own shoes even if they were standing in them!"
            "Face it!  Eventually, they would solve every crime that you have.  They could do it without you.  You just go around holding their hands and pointing the way to solutions.  There's no more Moriaritys in London for you."
            He got up to leave.  Kate threw her arm across the door to block his path.
            "What?  Are you afraid of someone telling you the truth?!" she yelled.
            "Get away from that door!" he shouts and pushes her arm aside.
            "You don't like to hear these things do you?" she continues to rant on as he enters the parlour behind her.
            " - Think of all the things in chemistry that you could have solved with a brain like yours?  The great scientific journals you could have documented?  Instead, you've wasted half your life drowning your energy in a tiny, glass vial.
            Well, I'm not going to stand by and watch you do it, anymore.  I care about you, Sherlock!  I thought perhaps tonight you showed me that I matter to you, too.  There's a lot more to life, and you're missing all of it!
            I'm sorry for you, now.  You see, I've at least tried my best in life...most of it with you.  Although you probably think less of me now - losing my emotions and all?  I'm not a classy woman, a sophisticated woman, a mature woman - but, I still am a woman.  You see - that's what I really wanted for Christmas tonight - for you to notice it.
            Here -"
            Going to the little evergreen Christmas tree, she pulled out some prettily wrapped gifts.
            " - These are for you!!"
            She dumped them noisily on his desk before him.  He stood there- his back to her.
            "When you open them, you may discover that you've underestimated me, Mr. Holmes.  It's too bad I can't say the same thing for you!"
            With these last stinging words, she marched angrily from the room.
            Sherlock Holmes stood there for a moment.  Then, his eyes
glanced down to the parcels laid before him.
            Observing them, he noted one was a tall, rectangular-shaped
object the other smaller; but longer and wider.
            Groaning in dissatisfaction, he threw himself in his favorite chair by the fire, and stretched out his feet.  Puffing madly on his pipe, the room began to look like the London fog in spring.
            For some time, he sat and yet, his mind kept coming back to
Katherine's cutting words - how right she was!  How well she knew him!
Even if he didn't like to hear it.
            And the night they spent together in the boathouse also went across his mind.  How nice she felt!
            And the presents - the presents -
            Looking over to them, he decides to unwrap them.
            Opening the first -
            - Holmes has to sit down.
            Before his eyes was something incredible.
            A beautiful illustration in watercolour of three white
stallions' heads.
            Signed by the original artist -
            - Claude Vernet!
            Holmes was breathless.
            All his life he'd searched for his grand uncle's original works-
            - now here it was!
            "You are remarkable, Katherine," he mutters to himself. "A
walking miracle."
            Running his hand, lightly over - but, not actually touching the painting - he took it all in.  Now, he knew why he'd grown fond of the girl, and very attracted to her.
            Glancing up, he realized there was more, another box lay on the desk disguised in silver foil.
            Going over to it, he carefully unwraps the contents.
            The second gift was even more amazing.
            A beautiful, hand-carved mahogany Stradivarius in mint
condition.
            But, this was even more priceless - for it was signed by the famous violinist - Sarasate.
            Holmes couldn't believe it.
            She was right, again - he had underestimated her.
            His anger was completely forgotten, as gingerly he picked up the violin, and began to play.
            As he was absorbed in the music, he heard a knock at the door.
            He turned to see Olivia in the doorway.
            She smiled at him.
            "That sounds nice.  What do you call it?"
            "It is simply one of my own compositions," he adds, pleasantly.  "How are you this evening, Olivia?"
            "I'm fine.  It's funny, you know.  That music sounds like that song Jodi is always humming."
            Sherlock Holmes just smiles.
            "Anyhow, I'm just passing through on my way up from the kitchen - late night snack.  How did the case go?"
            "Not well, but it's of no consequence."
            Suddenly, to Holmes it mattered very little.
            "Have you seen Jodi?  Was she with you?"
            "Yes.  I believe she has retired to her room for the evening."
            Olivia viewed the presents he'd opened.
            "Nice gifts."
            "Yes, they're extremely nice.  And, thank you for your gift, Olivia."
            "It was just something that caught my eye."
            "Speaking of which, I wonder if you'd mind very much doing me a little favor?" he asks.  He puts down the violin, and goes over to his writing desk.  Reaching in a drawer, he pulls out a pair of very small keys. "Would you please deliver these to Katherine upstairs?"
            Olivia's face lit up.  She knew what they were for.
            "Of course!" she answers, whole-heartedly.
            Taking the keys from his hand, she leaned over and kissed his cheek.
            Holmes smiles at her.
            "You're a good man.  But, you know - I think she'd rather get them from you..."
            "No, she's still angry with me over a small disagreement we had.  She most likely would not even let me in."
            Olivia nodded.
            "O.K.  I'll take them to her.  And, thank you as well for the presents.  Have a good night."
            "You as well, Ms. Edmonds."
            "You can still call me Olivia, you know?  Or maybe even Shelli.  Jodi always does."
            He laughed, lightly. "I'll keep it in mind - Shelli."
            She grins at him and walks out of the room.  Olivia, then, made a B-line for Katherine's room.

            (Moments later):

            There came a knock on Kate's bedroom door.
            Katherine's haggard brown eyes opened to an intrusion of her sleep.
            She looked down in shock to realize she hadn't even changed for bed, yet.
            "Who is it?!" she shouts, her voice laboured with sleep.
            "It's me - Michelle!" came the reply. "Can I come in?"
            "Why not - ?" said Kate, sarcastically.
            Olivia recognized the tone of humour in her friend's voice and hesitantly peaked around the corner as she opened the door.
            "Did I wake you? No, I guess not - you're still dressed."
            "I fell asleep in my gown."
            "I've done that sometimes when George has kept me up all night explaining cases he's solved while I'd be lounging on the sofa.
            Then, he'd carry me up to bed and get me dressed for the night.  He's such a sweetheart."
            "Yeah, yeah!  That's very nice, Michelle.  Look!  I'm really tired - is there a point to this?"
            "Are you alright; I was still worried about you."
            "I'm fine," snarls Kate.  Then, says lightly. "Goodnight,
Shelli."
            "I'm serious, Jodi!"
            Katherine was laying on her back, again and ignoring her. "So am I."
            "I was downstairs getting a bite to eat; when I heard people running around or like someone was throwing something around...?"
            "It was him."
            "Who him?" asks Olivia, coyly.
            "Guess!" answered Kate. "Shelli, you're getting thick-headed."
            "He spoke to you, then?"
            "You could say I spoke to him," Kate replied.
            "What about?"
            "Nothing much.  Same old crap!  He wasn't even interested in opening my presents to him."
            "You're kidding me!?" said Olivia in disbelief.  Despite that she knew differently. "He never even gave you the reason?"
            "Nope.  Wonderful sweetheart, isn't he?"
            "What did you say?"
            "C'mon, Michelle!  I'll tell you in the morning, alright?  Let me sleep!" complained Kate, trying hard to close her eyes once more.
            "It's technically morning now," Olivia answered, smugly.
            "Shelli!!"
            But, Olivia didn't leave.  She sat next to her and poked her prone figure with her hand.
            Kate reluctantly opened her eyes to see her place a box - the same box she'd left in the hall plant - on her stomach.
            "Oh, Shelli, give it a rest!  You're such a pain in the ass!  I don't want anything to do with the box!" Kate moaned and went back to -
            "Jodi, open it or I'll sit here and stare at you all night," Olivia chided.  Crossing her long legs - she looked serious about it, too.
            "I don't have the key!" Kate answered, innocently; not even
opening her eyes.
            But, Olivia had the answer - bringing a hand from behind her back - she produced a set of keys on her long finger.
            "Oh, you!  You just think of everything, don't you!?" she hissed in return.
            "These are courtesy of - guess?!"
            Kate glared at her.
            "John?"
            "Nope.  Wrong!
            Sherlock Holmes gave them to me."
            Katherine's eyes opened wide from where she laid.  Struggling to sit herself up; she stared in disbelief at Olivia.
            "He gave you those?"
            "And he did open your presents, Jode.  In fact, I've never seen him so happy!"
            Kate couldn't believe what she heard.
            "Open the damn box!" Olivia shouts, impatiently. "I'm dying to see what else he put in there -"
            Katherine fumbled with the oak box.  Taking Olivia's keys, it took a good two minutes to break the rusty lock - but, soon the latch snapped free.
            Olivia sat up, suddenly and looked with eagerness at Katherine's face.
            Katherine lifted the small lid and peered inside.
            What she saw left her speechless.  Never in a million years
could she have imagined it.
            Inside was some of her simple belongings - most of which she'd been looking for for weeks.  A white scarf she'd worn once with her favorite perfume still evident on it, a picture of her with her dad making faces, some words she once said to Sherlock Holmes scribbled down in his handwriting, a little silver locket that had disappeared from her jewelry box, a newspaper article acclaiming her's and Holmes' success in a forgery case, a rose she'd given him once -
            - but, more importantly and more remarkable - also in his handwriting, sheet music of the song she recognized as the one she hummed sometimes when she went riding with him.
            Immediately, Katherine's heart beat furiously in her chest; her skin felt prickly and unescapable, wondrous tears fell heavily down her cheeks.
            Olivia laughed as she held Katherine in her arms in a maternal way.
            "Merry Christmas, sweetie!"

            (After a few minutes):

            Once she thanked Olivia, Katherine decided to go see if she could find Holmes - in order to thank him properly.
            At the head of the stairs, she paused at the parlour door - left wide open - she could see no one in the room.
            Searching the rest of the downstairs, she found he was also not in his bedroom.
            Katherine was disappointed.
            She decided to try sleep once more and wait to see him the next day.  Though sleep seemed impossible after all that had happened.
            He'd probably left to pick up some kind of newspaper from the shop on the corner.  The only thing was that it didn't make sense that at around 1:00am the store would be open.
            But, Katherine decided to call it a night, regardlessly.
            It was too bad.
            She wanted him so much.  To find after all this time that he really was a warm and sensitive person, surprised Kate.  She wanted to hold him, to kiss -
            Then, she was back at her room.  Strangely, the door was closed - but, in her dreamy state maybe she'd forgotten she had closed it.
            Opening the door, she entered the dark and lonely little room.
            This time she would rest much better.
            "I'll make it up to him tomorrow," she said in a promise to herself and smiled.
            Instinctively, she walked over to her bureau and pulled out a simple little nightdress.  She was far too distracted to bother with the lamp, her mind still racing.
            She almost reached for a cigarette she knew was in a small, tin box on her table.  But, decided to change first.
            Standing in the center of her room, with only the dim glow of the backyard as her light, she began to prepare for bed.
            Releasing the buttons on her taffeta bodice, then she began the labourious task of undoing her ivory corset.
            That's when she heard it, the sounds of someone breathing from clear across the room.  But, to Katherine it sounded like it was coming from right next to her ear.  It was deep and quiet.
            Her mystery was solved.
            Now, she knew why the door was shut when she'd first came in.
            But, Katherine wasn't scared.  Holmes was hiding somewhere in the darkened shadows.  Possibly he sat in a far corner in an old rocking chair which Mrs. Hudson had lent her.  He never made a noise.  But, she could feel his eyes burning through her.
            She chose to act like she never took notice of him.  Somehow, she felt familiar with him and she didn't mind him watching.
            But, she turned to face him, careful to make sure not to look in his direction.
            'If you want to watch; I'll give you something to see,' she said to herself.
            Undoing the ties on her corset, she threw it over on top of her bed.  She wasn't sure just how much he could see in the dark, but she felt incredibly vulnerable at that moment.  She felt like instinctively covering her bare breasts with her hands.
            'What's wrong with me?' she thought. 'I'm a previously married woman who has had relations with her husband.  I've never been embarrassed around Dylan.  Except, for maybe the first time...'
            That must have been it.
            He watched her with a look of quiet languidity.  From where he sat he could see her figure and face almost clearly.  He studied her in admiration.
            Katherine felt a certain freedom - she felt like herself.  Now, she could no longer hide behind colourful fans and pretty parasols to attract his attention - this was much more than flirting.
            She felt that she could not even hide behind her sarcasms, now.
            This was serious and very real.
            With nothing much covering her, she felt the coldness of the room and it made her tingle.  Or maybe it was his glare?
            Undoing the rest of the buttons of her dress and pantaloons, she stepped out of what now remained lain surrounding her feet.  Now, she was not embarrassed.
            Yet, she wished desperately to know what to do next.
            What could she do?  Just stand there shivering with a big,
stupid grin on her face?
            'Say something, please!' she thought, frantically.
            Then, she felt a sharp pain in her left arm.  It was starting to bleed once again from where Theresa had scratched her.  It was a stabbing feeling and hurt like hell.
            "Oh damn!!" she cursed, loudly. "Can you help me?  My arm is starting up, again.  Of all the times for this to happen!"
            He didn't answer her for a moment.  But, then responding
instinctively - she heard the rocking chair on the other side of the room creak as he stood up.  He comes more out of the dark and she could see his face, now.
            "Can I use your nightgown to stop the flow?  Just stand still!  Perhaps I should fetch Dr. Watson to care for it properly - ?" he says, suddenly and seemed to fidget nervously at the situation.
            "No, no!  It's not that serious.  Go ahead and use my gown!" she instructed.
            Going to it, he picks it up and starts to rip long pieces of it.
            His face was red from embarrassment and frustration as well.
            'What a mess this night was turning out to be!' she thought to herself. 'I get him alone in my room, I'm standing here naked, and now, I may bleed to death.  Just so romantic!!'
            As he was busy tearing - she heard him mutter...
            "You knew I was sitting there?"
            "Wouldn't you be disappointed if I didn't?" she answers.
            She looks over to him, and found her eyes welcoming the dim
outline of his face near the window as she became used to the light.  She could see him smiling.
            Walking over to her, he takes her by her forearm, and sits down with her on the edge of her bed.  Caring for her arm, he wraps it with the torn nightgown.
            Katherine felt humiliated.
            But, remains quiet.
            Sherlock Holmes tries hard to keep his eyes focused on her arm and nowhere else.
            "There you are.  You will survive, I believe," he says when he's done. "Let us cover you with something..."
            Leaning back, he pulls the blanket they are sitting on out from the bed and wraps it about her shoulders.
            Katherine felt she was going to cry.
            He puts his arm, caringly around her.
            "Katherine, it is not as bad as all that, now -," he says, softly.  "I think it would be better if I leave and give you some peace.  I simply came here to offer my gratitude for the very fine gifts.  Your tastes are exquisite."
            Katherine wiped her tears with the back of her hand and suddenly realizes he was starting to get up.
            Lifting his arm from her shoulders, he stands up and goes to the door.
            Katherine fidgeted, nervously.  She wanted to tell him not to go - but, she was so scared - maybe she did want him to.
            He opens the door of her room.
            She took all her courage and asked him in a whisper -
            "Have I embarrassed you?"
            Turning back towards her voice, he smiles, grimly.  His dark eyes were solemn.
            "It has been a long, arduous night for both of us.  We best get some sleep.  Goodnight."
            She said nothing for a moment.  He turns to leave.
            Then -
            "Stay here, tonight!" she calls across the room, sounding nervous and uncertain.
            He looks at her.  He felt edgy with her words.  But, he did not turn to go this time.
            "Stay with me, please," she answers, again.  Staring him directly in the eye - her request sounded humble.
            Angered by her weakness and desperation, he reached for the doorknob to open it.
            Katherine, stood up - clothing her naked form with her blanket.  Shuffling across the room, she came to face him.
            "Answer me one thing before you go!" she says, firmly.
            His expression twisted bitterly just out of her view. "One question!  Then, you have your freedom." she repeats.  She'd seen his face and knew he was annoyed. "I want an honest answer.
Brutually honest! - I think it's about time we settle this once and for all -"
           Glaring at her as she asks -
           "How do you feel about me?"
           He didn't answer her, but looked away, anxiously.
           "Just say it!  Tell me the truth!" she reiterated, strongly.  She walked a little closer to him.  Her large brown eyes gaped up at his face - she clearly wanted an answer - weither for bad or for good.
        He looks into her eyes, and -
           - said nothing.
           "Say it!!" she yelled.
           "SAY IT!!"
           Finally, he spits out his words in one long speech without
pausing.
           "You are exceedingly annoying at present.  In most cases, however, I find you not only annoying, but also willful, scheming, demanding, adolescent, reckless and generally vindictive.  And -"
           Katherine chewed her top lip and downcast her eyes to the floor.  She knew she'd asked for it - but, all of it?
           "Yet - ," he answers, tenderly; breaking with his tirade. "You are the only person I know whose weaknesses are turned into strengths.  I envy that ability.
          I have fought a hard and long-waging inner battle against you that I could not possibly win.  Which I did not want to win.  It has left me empty.
          Never in my life have I known such emptiness - no matter what events arise to suppress it - it returns.  A feeling of immense solitude - that once I thought wanted.  With you here - I know that is not true.
          I, instead, anticipate each day of learning something new of your compelling and complex nature."
          "But, simply as a friend?" she asks, disappointedly.  Not sure what all he said really meant.
          "I thought we'd settled the subject before, my dear?" he growled, quietly.
          "Yes, we did," she answers, sullenly.
          "Then friends we are, good friends.  Nonetheless, the hour is late.  I must return to my room."
          "Goodnight," she replied, coldly and walked away from him. "Close the door when you leave, please."
          "Very well!" snarls Holmes.
          Ignoring him as she returned to her bed, she clearly heard him open the door - but, not shut it.
          Katherine was too tired to care much, anymore.
          Crawling away under her blankets, she tightly closed her eyes to shut out the frustrating thoughts flashing across her mind.
          That's when she heard someone locking her door.
          Surprised, she sat up.
          From the other side of the room, she saw Sherlock Holmes in the dim light depositing a key in his vest pocket.
          She felt the blood rush to her face and burn incessantly.  But, it wasn't anger she felt now.
          She smiled.
          Going immediately to his favorite rocking chair in the corner, he sighed contentedly, as he threw a blanket from it over his legs upon sitting down.  He, also loosened his collar, slightly.
          "Holmes?" she asks.
          "Yes?"
          "I'm sorry," she answered.
          He grins, quietly to himself.
          She heard him chuckle.
          "What's funny?" she whispered.
          "Nothing really, I'm just noticing your use of this room," he answers.
          "As though you've never been in here before!" she laughs.
          Sherlock Holmes narrowed his eyes.
          "What about my room do you like?" she decided to question.
          "It is quaint, but sufficiently cozy," he answers.
          "Probably why you fell asleep in my chair before, huh?"
          Sherlock didn't answer.
          "I thought you were gone.  I guess you've decided to stay?"
          "I shall keep you company."
          Katherine smiled, again.
          Then, there was a peaceful silence between them.  She could hear his low, steady breathing and it calmed her.
          But, she didn't want to fall asleep just yet.
          "Sherlock?" she asks, again - but, feeling like his first name was nicer somehow.
          He looked towards her - still he found it hard to get used to her calling him that.
          "Yes?"
          "Thank you for your beautiful Christmas present."
          "Actually, it is only an old box of Watson's which he had lent to me - "
          "I meant, thank you for what was inside of it - you know, I've been looking for those things for months!"
          He laughs.
          " - I want you to keep them.  That's unless you want them?  And, I recognized the song you composed - it sounds very beautiful.  Thank you.  I'm flattered by all of it.  It's one of the best gifts I've - "
          "Katherine," he interrupts.  "Is the chest a tangible object?"
          "Yes, I suppose so -"
          "Is it of a certain value?"
          "Yes."
          She wasn't sure what he was getting at.
          "Then, certainly it is not the intangible thing of no material value you asked for -
          - It is not a Christmas present."
          Katherine felt confused.
          " - Then, what is?" she questions.
          "Possibly, you can tell me?" he answers her without looking her way.
          "You know already."
          Her voice was calm and throaty.
          Now, he looked up at her with a long, silent stare.
          "Be that as it may, I have no further energy to unravel your
amateur detective farces.  My body begs for rest.  I will offer you a more suitable gift in the coming days.  I give you my word.  Sleep well, Jaymes," he says, changing the subject entirely.
          Quickly, he averts his eyes and wrestles in his chair.
          Katherine felt her stomach churn, uncomfortably.  In just a few words he'd managed to build all new walls between the two of them.  She thought she'd torn some down.
          Resting her head back in her pillow, she stared at the ceiling.  She felt she was going to cry.  It was hopeless.
          "Do me one favor, Holmes," Kate replies - referring to him by his last name once again. "Don't sit up all night rehashing the case of Mr.Donaldson.  Please, try to get some sleep."
          Holmes was slightly surprise at her request. "I will."
          "Good!" she answers, her voice trembles. "Goodnight."
          He just mutters something similar to 'yes' and all is quiet.
          Tears roll down Kate's cheeks.  Did nothing of tonight matter?
          Holmes did not seem to notice.  Settling in the padded rocker, he closed his eyes, contentedly.  He had felt pleased with confessing his friendship to her.  Their relationship seemed important to him, and he'd shown it by staying in the same room - something normally he would not do.  Still - he felt a certain disappointment.  But, he brushed it aside, as he starts to fall asleep.
          It surprises him to abruptly hear her say -
          "I wish we were still at the boathouse."
          Tired, he was growing resentful of her.
          His voice was bitter.  "And I wish you would be silent!  I have had enough of your playing games with me!  I'm quickly becoming weary of being the mouse and you being the cat."
          "Is that right?!   Anything else you want to complain about?!"
          "I generally dislike your ability to back me into corners and force my hand.  I despise your aggression!"
          "Well somebody has to be!  Why don't you just say that you hate me - it would be damned easier for you?!  And, why the hell did you just sit there while I was undressing and then, say, 'We're great friends'?!  Why can't you just make it simple?!" she shouted.  She felt sick with all the sore feelings coming to the surface.  His words were all she could stand.
          "Nothing is ever simple with you!  I hate that you confuse me!"
          Katherine stopped crying, then and held her breath.
          "I do not like the feeling.  But, I feel it nevertheless."
          Looking in her direction, their eyes met - and he knew immediately that his anger had left him, but then again -
          "You are the only person I know who aggravates me this much!"
          'Oh good!' she thought. 'More insults!'
          He never had anything to say about her that was good.
          She decided to just roll over on her side and ignore him.  With her face to the wall, she covers her ear with her pillow.
          Katherine was grateful to hear all sounds about her muffled by the goosedown.
          But, she could clearly hear her own scream when she felt a man's hand grasp the hand she used to hold her pillow.
          It was Holmes - sitting alongside her on the bed.  He lifts the pillow from her cheek and turns her to look at him.
          Kate's speechless.
          She felt his hand tremble as it rested on her shoulder.  Katherine could tell he was trying to sum up his courage.
          " - And certainly one of the most stubborn," he continues, groaning in frustration.  "Please let me finish what I have to say, Katherine - don't turn away."
          She nodded, grudgingly and sunk down under her blankets.
          "Normally, I have a mistrust of women - though it shames me to admit it - I've felt in the past a distinct dislike of you."
          Katherine cringes, and searched his face in a plea not to torture her anymore.
          " - And yet, never once have you done something to directly harm me.  Nothing cruel that is.  Your devotion and strength astounded me.  Only I didn't know why you were standing by me through all the diversity - despite what others had told you about me."
          She felt warmed with his praises and smiled in reply.
          "You've been sympathetic with my faults, humourous with my quirks, clever in response to my ideas, adventurous in my pursuits, gentle and sensitive in my loneliness, and proud in yourself.  You have been more than a friend.
          And, I admit, you were right - I am attracted to women - or, more specifically - one woman.  An amazing woman.  I am afraid of that.  Afraid of how much I've grown to need you, Katherine.  These emotions are new to me."
          Saying these beautiful words, tenderly he takes her hand; he was about to kiss it once more - but, changed his mind...
          Doing something that astonished Katherine.
          Leaning forward, he moved his face in close to hers and resting his hand against the right of her face, he placed a warm, gentle kiss on her left cheek.
          Kate closed her eyes when she felt it.  It felt unbelievable.
          Sherlock Holmes felt her hot tears roll across the back of his hand.
          Separating from her, he looked into her dark, brown eyes.
          "I'm sorry," she apologizes.
          "Why?"
          "Because I'm sorry I always seem to be insulting you.  You know I'm surprised you haven't otherwise had female friends.  I can understand that you say you push them away; but if they were intelligent women - they would be breaking down your door.
          You are such an elegantly handsome man with the most incredibly beautiful eyes.  That's the first thing I noticed about you, you know? Your eyes left me speechless when we first met.
          I've always read you were -
          - Nevermind."
          "Well, I've had compliments on my intellectual ability before, but I can't say ever on my physical appearance...," he answers, blushing.
          "I find that difficult to believe -" she says.
          "Thank you."
          She struggles to sit up beside him.
          She was frightened of being this close.  Frightened of telling him how she felt.
          She looked up at his features for the words to come to her.  If only she could confess her emotions to him as easily as to Olivia.
          Instead, she glanced at his angular, clear-cut face with his arching brows over his dark grey-blue eyes with their Irish twinkle, and that divine and proud aquiline nose -
          - What was she thinking about?
          Then, staring deep into his eyes she knew why she cared for him - it was the person looking out from inside them.
          Touched by this unspoken thought, she brought her hand curiously to caress his hair - slicked back forever in place.  Probably for the fact he remained still in his day attire.
          With her fingers, she ran them, tenderly over the raven hair along his brow.  It flopped lazily over his eyes.  She stroked the dusky, lanky texture which felt smooth and silky to the touch.
          Holmes grabs her hand and gently scolds her.
          "Judith, please!"
          " - When I think of you," she starts to say as if continuing a train of thought.  " - I think of how you continue to surprise me, and are the only one who seems to be able to.  I like that.  It's exciting - I never know what you're really capable of.
          Like when you caressed my breast in the boathouse.  Now, that was a surprise -"
          Holmes drops her hand and looked horrified.
          "You were awake?!"
          "What?  You thought I was asleep?" she laughs.  "Oh no, I was
awake."
          "Damn!  Perhaps I should just hold my hand over your nose to make for certain for breathing - to make sure I am safe the next time?"
          Katherine starts to laugh even more.
          " - And you're funny.  You'd be really stuffy I suppose if you weren't.
          You're profoundly sensitive.  That's what's so remarkable about you.  You feel everything - then, deny it because it scares the hell out of you because you sense too much.  You hurt more, you see more."
          Sherlock seemed to squirm in discomfort at her observations.  He brushes his dark hair back into place with a sweep of his hand.
          Kate noticed this.
          "Does it make you nervous sitting here?" she asks.
          "You make me nervous," he answers, intensely.
          Katherine stared at him, quietly for a second.
          Touching his arm, reassuredly.  She whispers...
          "Trust me.  That's all I've ever really wanted.  If you are
nervous around me - it's because you have so little faith in me."
          "That is not what I meant by 'nervous'," he answered, sonorously.
          She gulped, visibly.
          "Oh -!" she exclaims.  And averted her eyes.
          Putting his index finger under her chin, he lifted her face to look into his eyes.  She'd shied away her expression out of fear.
          Tears started to roll down her face, anew.  She shivered a little under the sheet she had over her body; she truly felt naked.
          He knew it was not the cold to blame this time.
          "I'm so scared - ," she answers, softly and with a trembling voice.  "I don't know why?"
          "Shh...!" Holmes comforted.  He let his long fingers gently rove over the surface of her wet cheek.  He studies her face.
          Katherine opened her eyes and gazed up at him.  A thousand paranoid questions ran across her mind.
          But, he stilled her fears and quieted her thoughts; he closed the space between the two of them.
          As his nose slid across her wet face, she felt the satiny and tender touch once more of his lips when he kissed her forehead.
          She felt shots of electricity go to every part of her body.  She so loved his kisses - how wondrous they felt.  She wanted more.
          Breaking only away from her slightly, he rested his forehead against hers and closes his eyes, peacefully.  They sat for a moment together like this in communion.
          Katherine looked at him so close to her and suddenly words came forth from her lips...
          "I can't stop thinking about you.
          Only I wish I could tell you how I feel.  I thought I knew what I was going to say and how I was going to say it.  But, it's not enough.
          It's so overwhelming all that's going on inside of me.
          Tonight, Douglas found me crying over my father.  It was true - I was.  But, not over my father.  As I was thinking how I missed him, I imagined what it would be like to return home.  Then, it occurred to me - if I was there - I could no longer be here.  And, that's when I started to cry.
          I realized, that I would never meet anyone like you ever again and I couldn't imagine being without you.
          I've never been close to many people in my life.  I do that on purpose, I'm never as sure of myself as I look.  You saw right through that.  You see, you're not the only one who is afraid of getting too close.  But, I found despite my own hangups that I do like you.
          Well, maybe not quite.  More than that...much more.  I would say things to you, hoping you would listen to what I was really saying.  What I wanted to say, but couldn't.  What it meant.
          I wanted to tell you how much you mean to me.  How much I wanted you...that's why it's so scary.  I feel like a little girl.  I'm tired of playing games.  All I know is how much I love you."
          He smiled at her, warmly.  "And I love you, my darling."
          "So now what do we do?" she asks, frightened.
          Holmes laughs at her insecurity, now he was no longer ashamed of it.
          "What do you want to do?" he whispers.
          Katherine swallows hard and trembles - feeling very -
          "Can I get dressed?  I feel a - um - ," she says, her voice sounded squeaky.
          "Of course - "
          Getting up from where he sat, he lets her slip out of bed and
stand on her feet.  She fights to keep the blanket she had around her.
          She shuffles over to her bureau, nearly tripping on the way there.
          He almost started to laugh.
          She could feel his eyes penetrating into her back as she moved.  Katherine couldn't understand why she felt so nervous.  'I'm supposed to know my way around situations like this...?'  Even though, the fact was, Dylan had been the only other one.  Somehow, Holmes was different.
          'Holmes!' she thought. 'I can't believe I still call him Holmes!'
          She grins, shyly to herself.
          Katherine drops the blanket covering her to the floor underneath her feet.
          Suddenly, the lamp light beside her bed is turned up to flood her lonely, naked figure.
          Startled, she turns to Sherlock Holmes - who is looking her over, tenderly.
          "You are so lovely!" he breathed.
          She could feel a wave of warmth run throughout her entire body as he studied her long and hard.
          "Don't say that!  I don't fell beautiful," she grumbles; unconsciously reaching up with one hand to cover her nipples and the other to cover her groin.  "I'm fat - I've always been -"
          " - You've always been so lovely," he answers, with certainty.
          Kate looks at him.
          "Look in the top drawer!" he tells her, his face calm and quiet.
          "What?" she mumbles, her mind still reeling from what he'd said.
          "Your top drawer..."
          Coming to her senses somewhat, she turns and opens the top drawer of her bureau as he directed.
          Immediately, her eyes caught sight of a garment of clothing out of place.  Something new she'd not seen before.
          Reaching for it, she pulls out a beautiful, full-length nightgown.  It was pure white, with billowy sleeves cuffed by lace, and adorned around the off shoulder collar as well.  Ribbons of ivory satin taperred down from every eyelet in the lace itself.
          Katherine let a small gasp of wonderment escape from her throat.
          She reacted by turning to behold a totally amused Sherlock Holmes still sitting comfortably on the edge of her bed, his long legs crossed elegantly in front of him.
          "I take it you approve of it?  Go ahead, my dear, do try it on."
 Holding the silky fabric against her skin, relishing the feeling - she, then, slipped it over her head and let it easily cover her figure.
 Looking into the mirror over her bureau, she danced around in circles, pleasingly admiring the gown's appearance.
 "Oh, it's beautiful, Holmes," she gushes.
 Slowly, her eyes were drawn away from her own image to that of his face gradually coming into view over her shoulder as he walks up to her.
 "I prefer the name Sherlock from you - I've grown fond of it - it sounds more proper considering the circumstances of us than Holmes.  Holmes is so impersonal..." he replies, fondly quoting her.
 Katherine's own eyes were met by his clear, grey eyes in the mirror.
 She smiled at him.  "Is that a famous author you're quoting, Sherlock?"
 Then, she calmly asked, "You knew I'd let you stay tonight?"
 "I hoped...," he whispered.
 He lifted his hand in the air behind her, and she saw him reach out to touch her hair.  Her hair was still piled up on top of her head from earlier on in the day, when she pinned it back into a bun - which was the common style.
 She felt his dexterous fingers work at the clip in her curls, and release it from it's hold.  Her hair fell in free, raven waves to her shoulders.  She somehow looked vulnerable.
 "...And, I like you much better this way -" he says, with a deep tone in his voice.
 Sherlock, then, reached down for her wrist, gently turning her to face him.
 He took the ribbon on her nightgown and pulled it apart.  The dress glided off of her.
 " - and, like this."
 She could, now notice how his eyes took in her figure and how passionate his gaze was.
 Katherine looked up, intently in his eyes.  He was standing so close...
 ...Both of them so scared to touch the other.
 She could feel the artificial heat of the lamp on her night table, and the glow which it formed on Sherlock Holmes' face.
 His cheeks were red with a rosy blush.
 But, then so were Katherine's.
 "I feel somehow over dressed," he mutters, quietly.
 Katherine grins, bravely.
 "Then, perhaps we should remedy that...?" he replies.
 Taking the lapels of his suit, she began to remove it.
 She grabs his collar and pulls it down off his strong, solid shoulders.
 Then, she proceeds to undo the necktie around the collar of his white shirt front.  Recklessly and hastily, she fought with the buttons on his vest - practically tearing some out by the very threads which held them together - Katherine was surprised by her own eagerness and strength.  She starts to release the buttons of his shirt.
 She flings his tie on the floor.
 Sherlock Holmes let a muffled laugh escape his lips.
 "My dear Katherine, pace yourself!"
 Katherine pulls away, suddenly appalled by her own desperate reactions.
 But, he grasps both of her hands with his, and guides them up to his shirt, where part of the skin of his chest was beginning to peek through.
 "Don't fear your impulses, Katherine!" he whispered.  His words made her tremble all over.
 She unbuttoned the rest of his shirt and tugged it down his arms.  Underneath she found that his body was surprisingly muscular, his chest was smooth and hairless.  His pale, ruddy skin Katherine reached out to caress with one shaking hand.  he was stout despite that he seemed quite tall and imposing, but his stomach felt hard to her touch.
 Katherine's pulse raced, standing before her - defenseless - made him seem all the more attractive to her.
 The feeling of his warm skin under her busy fingers felt amazing, incredible.
 She ran her hand slowly over his breast, feeling ever so slightly his hard collarbone, letting her caresses trail down to his stiff nipple.  When she did, she heard him gasp in pleasure.
 Suddenly, Holmes couldn't contain his need for her.  Grabbing her upper arms, he pulls her up against him, cradling her naked body in his arms.
 Embracing his neck, she dug her fingers into his back - bringing her bare chest flat against his.
 He experienced her heat - her heartbeat like a rabbit's.
 His hands stroked her lower back, suddenly becoming rough, insistently and rhythmically rubbing her over and over.  She could feel the sensation of his body moving against her own, and his wonderful hands - at last touching her.
 She moves her fingers through his hair, touching its soft, fine texture.
 He grips her so tightly in his arms that her breathing seemed to blend with his.  She felt his breath blowing warmly into her hair.
 But, when she felt parts of him tickling her, she grasped her arms tensely around his neck.
 "God!  You feel so good!" she mumbled, deeply.
 He moaned in reply and pressed his lips to her naked shoulder.
 "I no longer want to play the gentleman," he whispers in her ear.  "'...Spirits to enforce, Art to enchant;
  And my ending is despair,
  Unless I be reliev'd by prayer,
  Which pierces so, that it assaults
  Mercy itself, and frees all faults.
  As you from crimes would pardon'd be,
  Let your indulgence set me free.'"
 His words almost made her lose herself right there and then.
 She smiled, nervously.
 "The Tempest.  William Shakespeare's speech of Prospero.  Funny, I never imagined you liking Shakespeare," said Kate in a soft whisper.
 He released his hold on her.
 Standing apart from her, she opened her eyes to him.
 The love and desire that stood there before her in his eyes was eloquent.  His face beamed an exhausted grin.  His raven hair was disarrayed and stray locks fell over his face.  Nettled on his brow was a small bead of sweat.  His appearance was frumpish and voluptuously dishevelled.
 He seemed human, vulnerable, full of passion.  Kate's sense of intimidation of him laxed to warm passion.
 Stern, cold, reserved and indifferent - Sherlock Holmes seemed no longer - he was highly emotional.
 "Do you want me to stay?" he asks, with uncertainty.
 "Oh, yes!" Katherine purrs.  Reaching for his hand, she led him to her bed.
 He hesitated, as she sat at her bedside.
 "Katherine.  I must be truthful...I don't know how - ?"
 "That's all right!" she replies, softly and full of confidence " - I do."
 He lifted her blankets and was ready to get in and join her.
 "Wait!" she said, suddenly.  "You're forgetting something, I think."
 Stretching out her hand, she caught hold of his belt buckle of his pants.  With a bit of struggle, she managed to remove his pants and underpants.
 Sherlock Holmes let out a shudder.
 This woman's control of the situation was something he'd never seen in another woman before.
 To see him before her, now - in all of his glory - Katherine felt anything but control.  She had to admit, she was quite impressed.
 Staring down at him, she couldn't help but make some sort of comment.
 "I have to tell you, Mr. Holmes, you have more to be proud of your natural gifts than just your brain.  That's quite some attribute you have there..." she says, with a laugh.
 Sherlock Holmes turns bright red.
 Grabbing the sheets, now, he leapt under the covers and hides himself in her bed beside her.  Feeling her body close to his, once more.
 Immediately, he felt how much warmer the bed was than his own.  It felt strange, he felt strange.  What am I doing here?  How did I let it get this far?
 Katherine looked over at him lying next to her shoulder, he lay there as rigid as a board. "Comfortable?" she asks, amusingly.
 He didn't respond.
 He was staring, blankly at the ceiling.
 Katherine follows his gaze.
 "Do you think it would look better with stucco up there, or do you like it like that?" she mutters, absently.
 That decided it for Sherlock Holmes, shifting his weight - he struggled to lift himself out of bed.
 "This is a mistake - "
 But, Katherine was faster, grabbing his wrist in her hand - she stops him.
  "No.  It's not a mistake.  It's not wrong being here, being with me.
 This is all new to you.  You're just nervous - so am I.  I'm terrified.
 But, I don't want you to go," she answers, firmly.
 Sighing uneasily, he lays back down.
 Katherine knew how he felt, she'd felt the same way her first time with Dylan.  And for his whole life he'd lived perfectly celibate, and in total control.  Now, came a situation in which he felt he'd lost command, his sense of direction.  He must have felt totally confused.
 This compelled Kate to reach down along her side, and to take his hand.
 She held his warm palm next to hers, and lifting it slightly, she marvelled at its' beauty with its' long, well-formed fingers.
 "You have such nice hands.  You know, they say people with hands like yours are usually artistically inclined," she says, although it sounded like she was talking to herself rather than him.  She kissed the hollow of his hand with her lips.  It was the first time he'd felt her kiss.
 He jumped a little with her touch.
 She turned her face over to the pillow next to hers and looked at him.
 She gazed at the noble profile of his face and felt suddenly how amazingly lucky she was to have such a man interested in her.  This idea in her head made her pulse race.  He was so remarkable to look at and to understand.   Still she wanted to know more of him...to know him in a way like no one else.
 He felt her stare and glare back at her.
 'Those eyes...those incredible eyes,' she thought
 They stared at one another for a moment, then he brought her hand he was holding up to his lips.  He kisses it gently.
 Katherine shuts her eyes.
 The bed, suddenly, moves from underneath her.
 Opening her eyes - she sees him hovering over her face as he leans upon his elbow.  She felt claustrophobic and loved it.
 She smiled at him.
 He returned the affection as stretching backwards - he reached for her lamp on her night table and turns it down.
 Now, the light had been replaced by a dark cast over the warm, inviting little room with where fate's promise was giving it's due.
 The only illumination was the ghostly shadows the moon gave as it danced gingerly over her bed.
 "Close your eyes, Kate!" he orders in a low, soft growl.
 She did.  She didn't want to move, she didn't want to object...
 Slowly, he lowered his face to her right ear and whispered deeply -
 "You must not question my actions, Ms. Jaymes -
 You must trust me emphatically.  Do you do as I ask?"
 She placed her full trust in him.
 "Yes!" she answers.
 "Very good," he says.  He sounded like a teacher telling the class that five times five equals twenty-five.
 What would he teach her tonight - ?
 The first feeling that overcame her senses was that of his bare hip pressing against hers, then she felt his arm come across her as he rested his elbow against her upper arm - not actually embracing her, but more looming possessively over her.
 Katherine didn't need to see him, she was aware of him.  She could smell the musky scent of his perspiration, the heavy intake of his breathing as it warmly blew in her face, the smooth feeling of his skin rubbing against her own, the heat of his body.
 But, the waiting, the anticipation was driving her mind into a feverish pitch.
 He didn't touch her.  Katherine couldn't understand why.  Maybe he was afraid she'd break if he touched her too hard, let his caresses rule over the objections of a stable, sensible mind.  And yet, she could feel the heat of his hands near her skin.
 When she heard him groan plaintively and uneasily, she opened her eyes.
 Immediately, she saw in his face a look that was an evident mixture of frustration, guilt, and bewilderment.
 He so wanted her, but didn't have any idea what to do.  His hands were sweating.
 Kate looked at him, gently and was intensely moved by his fear.
 Raising her hands, she let her fingers slide behind his ears - so that she held his head between them.  Slowly, and very tenderly, bowing his head downwards, she tilted her face upwards.  She brushed his forehead with the delicate sensation of her full lips separating slightly.  Katherine could taste the salt of his sweat in her mouth.  She lingered for a moment to savour the touch.  For him to feel her kiss.
 Parting from him, she gazed quietly into his face.
 When, he looked at her, his steely grey-blue eyes turned remarkably softer as tears formed in the corners of them.
 Without hesitation, he responded in kind to her gentle gesture, holding her face in his hands - he placed his warm lips to her forehead, his nose buried in her sweet-smelling raven hair.
 It became a game of follow-the-leader, now.
 Drawing away, she then placed a kiss on the ridge of his sculpted cheekbone.  Her arm embraced lightly around his naked shoulder.  He shut his eyes in response.
 Then, he bent low and kissed her right, rosy cheek upon her round face.  His lips felt warm - she felt very warm.
 She kissed his other cheek.
 He kissed hers.
 Then, she placed the tip of his proud nose in between her lips.  She clearly heard a little gasp from somewhere deep in his throat.
 He, after, returned the kiss by placing his tender lips over the nub of her full, upturned nose.
 Katherine was even more mild in her next approach.  Very calmly, she reached up and touched his left, closed eyelid with a feathery kiss of her mouth.  She could feel his long lashes brush her bottom lip.  He trembled with this kiss.
 He, then, kissed her eyelid which shut quietly to accommodate his caress.  Katherine could feel a tingly, warm sensation rising inside of her.
 She kissed his other eye.
 So he kissed hers' in return.
 She kissed both of his eyebrows.
 As did he hers'.
 Moving her face around to the under side of his jaw, she slipped his earlobe into her mouth and licked it like a game with her tongue.  His breathing became dense and quickened.  She could feel his ribcage touching her stomach so faintly that it tickled her.  Now, she definitely heard a moan of delight escape him.
 She moved away.
 Sherlock placed his nose in her hair as he fondled her earlobe with the divine, aquiline shape of his nose as her ear entered his mouth.  Cheating, his moist lips escaped to her neck and began to pull on her skin in hard, ravenous kisses.
 Katherine grabbed his shoulder blades with her fingernails and squeezed his skin under her fingers.  She cried out in a wondrous cry of pleasure.
 But, he stopped and looked at her almost with alarm.  Katherine couldn't help but laugh lightly at this.
 She smoothed his face, lovingly with her open hand.
 "It's not pain I'm feeling, I swear.  I'm O.K." she says.
 He wasn't convinced, his eyebrows lowered over his eyes in a look of bitterness.
 "We must try to be quiet, my dear.  Or we will wake everyone."
 "I want everyone to hear!  I want everyone to know what we are doing!" she exclaims.
 Now, Holmes was startled.
 Katherine laughs aloud.
 "I'm kidding - "
 He opens his mouth to object to her humour, but she stifles his words with her finger to his lips.
 "Shh...you talk too much!..."
 Suddenly, Kate is quiet herself, letting her quivering fingertips trace his soft, fine-lined mouth.
 He awaited her move to kiss him there.
 But, she hesitated, afraid to - nervous,
 "...I was jealous," she says, abruptly, her eyes still staring at his lips.
 "What?" he questions.
 " - I was jealous of Agatha kissing you, that morning behind the Milverton household.
 I - I always wanted to be the first.  I've wanted to kiss you long before she ever did.
 I wanted to be the one.
 - Selfish of me, isn't it?
 But, despite all of it, when she kissed you - I thought 'how beautiful'.  It was."
 He looked at her, sweetly - persuaded by her confession.
 She searched his eyes, and realized she was feeling now what he'd felt moments before.  Saying the words was the easy part -
 - Katherine's eyes darted away from his face to look downwards, like a small child who was in trouble.
 He brought his face downwards as well...to meet hers...
 Suddenly, incredibly - it happened before Katherine could realize it.
 She was completely incapable of feeling anything now but the joining of one another -
 - that bonding through a first touch,
 - through a first kiss.
 She shook from head to toe when she felt his lips at last upon hers.
 Finally,
 Finally,
 Finally.
 It was more of a coming together for her than making love would have been with someone else.
 So much like a song to her soul.
 His touch was gentle, slow and innocent.
 Katherine's mind was spinning.
 This wasn't happening.  Was it true?
 His mouth reached out for hers with soft as silk kisses with which he gently stroked her lips.  Featherlight caresses of his satiny lips upon hers.  Just barely felt there by her.
 It made Katherine shiver with desire.
 The gentleness, as he pressed small kisses all over her mouth so delicately she felt she was made of fine china.
 It was so gorgeously tender.
 With only hesitation did their lips ever so slightly separate.  Their noses still touched and tears fell across Katherine's face.
 He drew further apart.
 Staring up into his face, it was his thoughts that were obvious to her.
 His grey-blue eyes burned intensely, as he says -
 "I care for you so very much, my darling."
 She reached up and felt his soft, sleek black hair.
 "I feel the same.  I want you."
 She, then, took the initiative.
 Grasping her hands underneath his arms, she brought him so that he lay all his weight on top of her.  She could now feel every part of his body merged into her own.  She could feel his anxiety.
 "Trust me!" she assured, quietly.
 His muscles relaxed with her soothing words.  His face only inches from hers.  She could feel his warm, slickened skin slidding against her chest and stomach.  And the sensation of his every breath which soon Katherine's breathing matched.
 His heaviness against her felt remarkably comfortable.
 Katherine sweared that at that moment her toes curled when she felt his leg shift so that she felt his thigh cradle the other side of her hip; and that another part of him was moving of it's own volition.  She could clearly feel it.
 He brought his face down closer upon hers.  His face was wet with sweat - as was hers, from the sweltering heat their bodies pressed together generated.
 She could stand it no longer, every one of her senses now cried out for him.
 She placed her hand in his, now, damp hair and pulls him into her arms.  Lifting her head, she placed her mouth completely over his.
 Her lips moved wildly against his - trying to savour the chance feeling of this closeness from him.  Her mouth melted into his.  Yet, his lips were pursed together, afraid or oblivious that there was more.
 Katherine decided to show him what he was missing.
 Opening her lips, she fought with his delicious, tightly closed mouth and slid her warm, moist tongue in between them.
 He moaned loudly this time in both surprise and delight.  She could feel his voice reverberate in her throat.
 She consumed his mouth.  It was ravishing.
 He opened his lips wider and buried his nose deep in her cheek.  His breath muffled now by her.  His panting was dense.
 She felt his own,inviting tongue, tracing the form of her teeth, the roof of her mouth and wrapping itself around hers - almost teasing her tongue.  Then, she felt it go down her throat.  All the while, his lips hungrily pulling on hers.
 She sensed his hands pushing their way underneath her body and the feeling of him crushing her sturdy frame in the strength of his arms.
 She clutched, madly at his back as she let one hand trail fleetingly into his hair and held his head even closer.
 The kiss grew faster and faster.  More and more voracious, they literally thirsted for one another in eager and feverish excitement.
 Their lips climbed each others' until they were practically parched.
 His groaning was insistent and her cries were obscene.  They were in agony and delight of discovery.
 But, broke away for mercy of breath.
 "Oh, you are incredible, my dear.  But, I must breath..." he gasped, hyperventilating slightly.
 Brushing back the hair from his eyes, she smiles at him serenly.
 Then, Katherine started laughing, helplessly - for now she felt his hands which from their heat alone she could tell where he placed them; descend up from her ribcage to covet each of her breasts with a tiny squeeze.  Freeing them, he touched the rosy tips of her nipples underneath his fingers, pinching them as if in study of their consistency.  They were no longer soft - which amazed Holmes.
 A little shriek came from her mouth.  Oh, it was so - so -
 Out of view of either of them, the door to the bedroom suddenly opens to the darkened, but beautiful face of Olivia Edmonds.
 Looking about to the sideboard where Katherine kept all of her junk near the door.  She was careful not to wake Kate.
 She was searching for a tape of music which her best buddy had borrowed from her, and now which she'd very much wanted back.
 That's when she caught sight of the little drama unfolding on the other side of the room.
 Olivia couldn't believe what she was seeing, she found it breathtaking.
 In all fairness, she should have left.  But, she couldn't tear her eyes away -
 - all she could do was stand there, watching incredulously.
 Katherine knew the fantasy she dreamed of all evening was suddenly here.
 Sherlock Holmes pressed his lips against the soft, warm skin of the curve of her breast, so gently that the slightest of his touches caused her to cry out loud.  Her teeth chattered slightly in her jaw.
 Against the delicate feel of her skin, she felt his lips part and the slippery caress of his tongue darting up the smooth surface to take her nipple in his mouth.  Tantalizing her hard peaks with playful strokes - she actually felt him lightly bite her tit with his teeth.
 She could sense his hand, as it trailed down her body, over her stomach and - then - over her legs and between them.  He rubbed the cleft of her clitoris with his finger.
 Katherine screams in joy and threw her head back in her pillow.
 Meanwhile, Olivia with a glow in her face and a bright, awkward smile on her face - backed out the door to give them some privacy.
 But, not without leaving her calling card first...
 Turning on Kate's walkman - strains of Dvorak's "Concerto for Violin and Orchestra" filled the air.
 Both Katherine and Holmes sprang up in shock and horror.
 He gets off of her and sits up, frantically looking about the room.
 "What the hell is that?!" Kate swears, protectively covering herself with her bed linens.
 She noticed immediately just how far her walkman was from her and how close to the door.
 "Michelle!!" screamed Katherine, angrily.
 "Shh...!" growled Holmes.  "It does not matter, she is gone."
 "That little bitch, I bet she was watching us."
 Sherlock looked frightened at her words.
 "Let us hope you are wrong."
 "I better turn it off," she complained, starting to get up.
 But, Holmes caught her arm and pulled her back down on the bed.
 "It is doing no harm to anyone, it stays on - you stay here!" he insisted.
 Katherine made no protest.
 Yet, she put her hands firmly against his shoulders - pushing him on his back.
 She crawls atop of him.
 "Time to even the score, Mr. Holmes," she replied.
 He knew immediately what she meant.
 Katherine's hot breath set his skin on fire with the touch of her tongue.  She ran it down his chin, neck, and paused to put a nipple of his chest in her mouth.  She sucked on it delightfully.  Sinking his fingers into her long, dark hair - he clutched at her head, letting a deep moan of pleasure loose from his mouth.  Then, Kate's kissing began a slow decline over the shape of his ribs, over his belly.  Her hands roamed all over his body, roughily and urgently until her lips found her way down below his stomach.  She reached out with her hand to stroke his hard and heavy erection, to feel the splendorous satiny feel of it's skin.  Holmes back arched as artfully her tongue curved around the underside of the crown of his penis and she slid the whole shaft down her warm throat.  He cried out in immense pleasure.  She rolled her mouth around the base of him before she began to suck hungrily upon him, enjoying the groans and pleas he was making for her to show him mercy.
 - Though there were plenty of noises from their lovemaking, it was possibly only that which caused both of them to not realize that there was another, strange out-of-place sound in the room.
 Scratching.
 Persistent, loud scratching.
 Sherlock Holmes removed Kate's hands from him and sat up.
 Katherine frustratingly buried her face in a pillow.
 "I can't believe this!!" she yelled.
 "It isn't in the room," Holmes said, his detective radar going up.  "The door, dear, it's coming from the door."
 Katherine was about at the end of her rope, jumping from her bed - she made her way across her room.
 Muttering on the way to the door.  "Maybe it's Satan trying to get in?"
 Sherlock grumbled to himself.  "I hope you're kidding."
 Katherine opens the door.
 No one was there -
 "What the - ?"
 Then, she saw a flurry of black fur streak past her leg.
 "Theresa!!  It's the cat!!"
 Immediately, the cat leapt up on the bed and found her favorite antagonist waiting for her there.  Curling up to his side, she purred happily as Sherlock Holmes stroked her soft head.  He looked up and gave Katherine a disgusted look.
 She couldn't help but laugh, when she saw her wily feline's performance.
 "She likes you.  Seems like I have competition.
 I'm sorry," she answers him and comes around the side of the bed to move her cat.  "Therese!  - Terr!  Come on!
 I have a feeling this evening was not meant to be..."
 Almost as soon as the words came out of her mouth.  Theresa sprang up and dashed off to hide under the bed.
 "Oh, damnit, cat!!" cursed Kate.
 She was about to bend over to get her, but Sherlock grasped her forearm and tugged her towards him.
 "Nevermind, Katherine.  Come lay next to me.  We need to get some sleep.  I'll stay here tonight."
 She seemed content with this promise.  Crawling in beside him, she rested on her side, her face to the wall.
 Curling up next her.  He wrapped his arm, protectively over her shoulders.  She felt his warm embrace and smooth, sweaty skin.  He pulls the blanket up over their shoulders.  It felt reassuring, but at the same time disappointing.
 Then, something remarkable happened.
 Holmes hand moved from the restful place of her shoulder, down the curve of her waist, to her  hips and finally rested to the warmth of her inner thigh.
 Kate closes her eyes with the heady sensation.
 Resting his face in her hair, he kisses her neck.
 "Never in my life could I have imagined myself capable of the feelings I feel for you, Katherine," he begins to whisper when he begins to bite tenderly on her neck.
 She sighs heavily as his fingers curved around her quivering clit.  Spreading her legs slightly, he catches her off guard by suddenly hoisting her leg up and flipping her over softly on her back.
 He moves down the bed and rests his body atop of hers, she can immediately feel the heat of him once again.  She smiles and wraps her legs around his waist.
 "Ah ah!" he scolds, grinning..."I've misled you my dear...I have read a few books too.  The Kama Sutra is really quite an imcomparable good read!"
 Her eyes open a little wider in surprise and she laughs a bit, that was until he put his hands firmly under both of her knees and lifted her up so that her butt was up off the bed, he slowly lowered his face down to her dampening sex, without hesitation and always ready to try something new, his tongue darted out and ran the length from her vagina to the top of her vulva.  Katherine screamed out in the amazing pleasure that went through her entire body like a bolt of lightening.  He began to lap lovingly at her clitoris hood like a cat and purse his lips to suck and bite at it.  She felt her mind drift past the ceiling and into a blissful heavenly void.  Her groans and cries echoed in the room.  He feasted upon her with evident surprise, how delicious she tasted.  But, as she came close to the brink of no return.  He had other designs.
 Moving his face away from her, he grasped her buttocks in both his hands and lifted her waist to his kneeling waist level. Without any warning, he thrust himself deep within her, her whole body wrapped literally around him.  They began to move together in a remarkable dance as she felt him fill her up inside, his large, throbbing cock making a path of his own, claiming her body as well as her soul.  She closed her eyes tightly and freed herself as she reached up to grasp his sweaty, rippling body in her arms.  He was breathing heavily into her damp hair as they began to grunt together and could feel the impending climax of their union.  A audibly loud clapping sound filled the air as well as obscene cries of pleasure as their sexes melted into one another.  He began to move faster and faster, the pain she felt by his aggressive movements were replaced by an insistent need for more and more.  Katherine suddenly looked up as a wave washed over her, she could see his face contort and knew it was upon him too.  Screaming out, they clutched madly for one another as their bodies shook uncontrollably, and he released a hot cascade of ejaculation within her and mixed with her cum which dribbled down her thigh.  Exhausted he fell into her and shut his eyes.  Katherine smiled, as she wrapped her legs around his back and held him close.
 "That was amazing!  God, I never..." she began to say.
 "I know!" he replied and laughed "I know, my love!  You were simply amazing!  I love you."
 "I love you too," she answered and they kissed, weakily.
 "We should try to get some sleep," she whispered.
 Sherlock Holmes smiles and breathing into her hair, kisses her again.
 Cradling the gentle and lovely creature in his arms.
 "Sweet dreams, my darling," he coos.
 Dropping his head in his pillow next to hers - he closes his eyes.
 In his mind, he remembered something even more infinitely important than the two of them on that quiet night, which he recited, peacefully.
 "'And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night.  An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified.  But, the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people.  Today, in the town of David, a Saviour has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord.  This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger."
 Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God, and saying,
 "Glory to God in the highest
  and on earth, peace to men
  on whom his favor rests.'"
 Sherlock Holmes, then, slipped off into a peaceful sleep himself.
 The last thing he remembered feeling was the sudden awareness of a small, furry body pressed against his lower back and purring happily.

 
 (Next morning):

 Katherine awoke, blurry-eyed, to find she was all alone in her bed.
 'Where's Sherlock?' she thought.
 But, she was too euphoric to care.
 What a Christmas!
 Straightening up and getting dressed.  She called Theresa to follow her downstairs so she could get her cat some breakfast.
 As soon as she opened the door, the sounds of lovely violin music reached her ears.
 'Sherlock!' she thought and blushed wildly.
 Going down to the parlour, she stood admiring his wonderfully cut figure with his back to her, racing his bow across the elegant Stradivarius.
 The music was intoxicating.
 She also caught sight of Dr. Watson seated on the sofa - as well, facing away from her.
 She came in and took a seat on the right of the sofa.
 John looked over to her, smiling, amiably.  "Well, good morning, Katherine.  Sleep well?"
 With John's words, Holmes stopped playing and spun around to face her.  He grinned like a small boy, his face red.
 She smiled in return.
 "I slept wonderfully, thank you," she says.  "The music is very nice, Sherlock.  Please don't stop."
 John looked surprised.  Since when had she started calling him, 'Sherlock'?
 After a few minutes of playing, Holmes confessed to everyone present that he and Watson would need to be going out on business for most of the day.
 Katherine was mildly disappointed, but it didn't bother her greatly.
 As they were about to leave, John came back to get his revolver for safety precautions.
 Holmes, too, hesitated.
 John looked up.
 "Forget something, Holmes?"
 "Yes, I have."
 Walking over to Katherine, he truly did something unexpected.
 Leaning forward, he gives her a long, tender kiss with renewed intimacy.  And pulling away, place one more kiss on her forehead.
 "I will return soon, my love," he whispered.
 When, he stood up, there was John - his mouth hanging down in disbelief.
 "Ready, Watson?"
 "Ah, yes, of course..."
 Both men left the room.
 And, Katherine, started to laugh to herself, heartily.