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. Edm