Rating: Teen
Summary: John is sent on an errand through a forest. There he runs into the big bad wolf.
Pairing: Sherlock/John
Warnings: slashiness, nudity, un-betaed
Disclaimer: Not mine, sorry.
Title: The Man in the Red Jumper

John Watson was seething. How on earth had he allowed his sister to coax him into running an errand for her? Obviously Harry was a lazy bum who didn’t feel like going out so she had put her –precious, precious- little brother on the job. When he got back, he would tell her exactly how he felt about all this. Just you wait…

Walking in the shade of the trees and listening to the sounds of the creatures living in these woods John snorted. Okay, so maybe taking a basket full of food and drink to Mrs. Hudson, who was a nice and kind lady living on the other end of the forest, really was not that bad. The weather was pleasant and John felt that exercise was good for his aching leg. Not that the pain was too unbearable or anything, but moving about was nice after weeks spent inside feeling sorry for himself.

He tugged his red jumper downwards as it had risen a bit while he walked. Humming to himself he changed the basket to his other hand, relieving the dull ache on his shoulder, as he saw a little lake glittering from behind the trees. The sun reflected of the surface making the water sparkle and John decided to take a little break. Of course, he could have kept on walking, but he thought this might be a fitting spot to sit down for a minute.

After a while John found a rock that was perfect for sitting, laid the basket down and stared at the lake. Every once in a while, small ripples distorted the calmness and John wondered what was causing them. Perhaps a little fish. Were there fish in the lake?

Suddenly something appeared from underneath the surface. It seemed to be a pair of fuzzy ears. Like those of a dog. The man sitting on the rock stood up and walked towards the water. The ears wiggled a bit and soon after a hair covered in messy hair followed them. Apparently it is just a wolf man, John thought as he saw that the hair continued all the way down the man’s back until it would form a bushy tail at his hipbone.

The left ear wiggled once into John’s direction and the other man turned around in the water. Some of the droplets clung to a pale chest that was curiously scarce of hair. John could see muscles flexing under the fair skin. For a long while they both stood still.

When the wolf spoke, John suddenly realized he had been staring at the other man’s chest for God only knows how long. “You’re wounded. You were in the war?” There was a glint of interest in those steel grey eyes of the man as he asked the question.

John was perplexed, but he could hear himself answering,  “Yes, against the neighbouring country...” He gaped at the other man. How could this stranger possibly know about his shoulder? “How did you know?” He could not help sounding a bit angry. Or maybe it was resigned. He honestly could not tell.

The wolf only grinned and John could see the tip of his fang. “I can read it from your posture. You are obviously a soldier, because no one else stands that rigid when they are taking a stroll in the woods. And you hold your shoulder like it pains you, so you must have been shot there.” When John did not say anything the man took a step towards the shore and John realized that he really was naked in there.

“That was brilliant! So... Umm... You are like the big bad wolf or something? And why are you in the lake?”

The wolf stopped, but the mischievous grin was back on those pink lips. “Yes. Yes, I am the big bad wolf. And this”, he gestured at the lake, “was an experiment.”  Wriggling his head the wolf man laughed as his hair flopped in the air as it dried. The sound of his laughter was unbelievably husky. It made John shiver. “An experiment?” He managed to ask with his voice deceptively steady.

“Yes. I’m trying to figure out for how long it is possible to hold one’s breath.” John stared at the wolf incredulously. “How long have you been underwater?” Sherlock looked indifferent as he said, “Oh, about an hour or so.” If possible, John looked even more disbelieving. “What about breathing?” The other man gave a deep sigh as if he found John’s questioning tiresome. “Breathing is dull.” John merely rolled his eyes.

“And a man’s freedom depends on this, actually. Or his capture. Can’t say yet.” There was a momentary pause. “And the name is Holmes. Sherlock Holmes.” As the wolf was about to step forward again, John suddenly turned his back. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Holmes. I’m John Watson.” He could feel himself blushing the while it took the wolf to walk to the shore.

“Ah, you are the man in the red jumper, then.” By now the wolf was standing right behind John. He could actually feel the warmth of the man’s skin radiating from him. John gulped. Audibly. “I’ve heard of you, you know. John Watson and his read jumper; the army doctor, who’s known to be extremely courageous and almost stupidly loyal.”

In a sudden rush of anger, John turned to face the man and poked him in the breast plate. Hard. “Say what you will, Sherlock, but you have no idea what it is like in war.” He poked Sherlock again. “People die there!” Another poke. “Good people. And you have no right...” John came to an abrupt halt, because Sherlock was grinning like a cat that got the canary, the cream and someone’s Sunday roast and staring at John like he was something to experiment on.

The flush on John’s face was back with renewed vigour as he realized that he was facing the smiling, almost a head taller, very naked Sherlock Holmes and actually poking him in the chest. As a reflex John lowered his eyes...

...and with an embarrassed gurgle his gaze shot up again.

John groaned with mortification and certainly the glint in those steel grey eyes was amusement, because nothing else could quite explain those low chuckles that Sherlock was making. He stared at something behind Sherlock’s face and his furry ears.

“I should probably be going...” Looking serious for once, Sherlock interrupted him with, “Ah, indeed. You were on your way to Mrs. Hudson’s cottage.” This time John barely gave that a second thought and continued, “Yes, so, I’ll just pick up the basket and be on my merry way.” Sherlock nodded.

John turned to go.

He managed to get one step away from Sherlock before a long nailed hand grasped his arm gently. Practically on his own volition John faced Sherlock again. Neither said a word and just stared into each other’s eyes. “Don’t go yet”, Sherlock said in a throaty murmur. After a few seconds he added, “Please, John.”

The hand that was not holding onto John’s arm came to caress his face softly. The calloused thumb touched John’s lower lip almost hesitantly. With a tiny gasp John opened his mouth. The next thing he knew Sherlock had lowered his head until their lips met. After the initial shock had passed, John’s eyes fluttered closed and his arms wound themselves around Sherlock’s slim shoulders as he returned the kiss.

Soon the wolf’s wandering hand found its way under John’s red jumper. As the freezing cold skin met with John’s pleasantly warm one, the smaller man shivered and pressed his body tighter to Sherlock’s making the taller man moan in pleasure. John answered by deepening the kiss and practically jumping on the other man’s arms. Without breaking the kiss Sherlock guided them to a conveniently placed tree not too far away from them.

As John laid his head against the chilly bark, Sherlock moved to lay small kisses on his bared neck. By now both his hands were discovering new areas of John’s sides and back underneath the warm jumper. Meanwhile John had wound his arms into Sherlock’s chocolate coloured hair and was gently rubbing one of his doggy ears. The sensation made Sherlock hum from deep in his chest and John could feel the vibrations in his own body as they were pressed tight against each other.

The kiss came to an abrupt halt as John pushed Sherlock away gently. For a while he leaned against the trunk catching his breath. He smiled at the wolf and Sherlock grinned back still breathless from the kiss too.

“I’m really sorry, but I really do have to go. It’s not too long way to Mrs. Hudson’s place from here and if I leave now, I’ll still make it home tonig...” John was – once again- interrupted by Sherlock, but this time with a quick, chaste kiss.

“If you think I’m going to let you walk all the way there alone, you are mistaken, John. Besides, Mrs. Hudson happens to be my landlady so walking with you won’t be an inconvenience.” The playful smile Sherlock gave him obviously meant that they would not be reaching Mrs. Hudson’s cottage for a while yet, but it would have been impolite to refuse such an offer.

Disclaimer: Not mine. :)

It was late and I was tired when I wrote this.

The thick curtains covered the high windows, painting the whole room with the blackness of the night. The master bedroom was silent, although there was soft snoring coming from one of the two figures sharing the king-sized bed. The person still awake was sitting up with his knees pulled up and his left arm hugging the legs. In his opinion, the air in the room was far too warm for sleeping.

While he softly, yet absent-mindedly, caressed the shoulder length black hair that curled drowsily on the white pillow, his unfocused blue eyes were drilling a hole into the back wall. “My valiant darling, I do sometimes wonder if any stories of us will find their way in history books. Does the world have any need for yet another dashing thief or a brave warrior?” He sighed and petted the raven haired beauty occupying the right side of the large bed.

Shooting a quick glance on the older man the blond thief smiled. Nowadays, Klaus almost always slept on his stomach. That had been one of the first changes that had happened in Klaus after he’d finally surrendered to Dorian. The smile on the blond’s lips widened. So much had happened during their years together.

The petting didn’t stop, but the other arm curled tighter around the knees hidden under the plain white cotton bed cover. Obviously Klaus had not been the only one to change.

Those blue eyes were once again measuring the wall. Were there any onlookers present, they would have commented that there was something almost possessive in the hand touching Klaus’s hair. “My beautiful love. If you were Samson, would I be Delilah?” Deft fingers separated one dark curl from the mass of hair and started playing with it. For a while gentle humming filled the silence of the room.

“My sweet, I do not think I would be able to find a hardship that you couldn’t conquer.” The limber, thieving fingers were slowly tying the black hair into a braid. The darkness in the bedroom was intensifying as the hour grew later.

In the lulling peacefulness of the night Dorian let his mind roam freely and, with Klaus safe and sleeping next to him, he examined the fears hidden in the far corner of his mind. Whenever a new mission came up or there was an urgent need for NATO to save the day, Klaus would be called in to handle everything and then some, no matter how dangerous. However any of that couldn’t keep Dorian away from his love when he was needed.

“One day we are going to be up against someone we can’t win, my love.” There was no question about it. The left hand which was wrapped around his knees grabbed a fistful of the blanket

In the first steps of their fiery relationship the terrors that Dorian usually managed to keep away had unexpectedly surfaced from his subconsciousness. Afterwards he had felt like he should leave Klaus. Just leave and never come back. Then he had looked at the other man and the mere thought of abandoning his Teutonic warrior made his heart ache.

After that the transformation had truly begun.

Looking softly at the dozing Klaus, Dorian loosened his death grip on the blanket and shook his head which made the golden curls tumble over his shoulders. “Dear Klaus, you really are going to be Eroica’s sweet downfall.”

Slowly the heavy curtains got lighter and lighter with the rising sun. Soon Klaus mumbled something in his sleep and gestured with the hand that had been hanging over the edge of the bed. Then he opened his eyes.

As the Major sat up on the bed, he turned his green eyes at Dorian. Without a word he got up and started towards the door. “I go make us some breakfast. You can continue sleeping if you want.”

Disclaimer: From Eroica with Love is not mine.
WARNING: Character death

The soft humming of the machines and an occasional sharp beep every few seconds were the only sounds in the otherwise quiet room. Although the blinds were drawn up, it was still dark during the morning hours. A single lamp on the bedside table shed enough light and reflected elongated shadows on the wall.

Glum blond curls slid lifelessly between long fingers as if they had lost their former shine that rivaled the Sun itself. Or perhaps they knew that no more would they be able to dance in the wind and charm everyone who set eyes on them. Slowly the tresses wound themselves around their master’s face like they tried to protect him in any way they were able.

The fingers that had ruffled the golden hair gently moved some tangles away from the pale face. The springiest curls tied themselves around the base of the ring finger. Maybe in order to stop the hand from withdrawing this time.

It was apparent that the hand knew what was expected of it for this time around it started petting the blond head with slow strokes.

“I’m sorry.” While the left hand carried on with the petting, the right one fumbled around the front of its owner’s shirt, frustrated, until the emerald green eyes landed on the “no smoking” sign and the man cursed quietly. “I should have told you how…important…you were. To me.” The soft sigh was loud in the quiet of the room, akin to a gun being fired.

His only answer was a lone beep from the machine.

The green eyes stared expressionless at one of the screens. “You know, I can’t even bloody well tell anymore if it is only this fucking machine that is keeping you alive. Idiot.”

There was another beep.

The left hand that had stilled in its petting and had been softly resting on the metal rail of the bed, clenched into a fist. “Those bastards are going to pay for this.”

The stomping of the man’s boots echoed in the dim hospital room for a long while even after the man was gone.

***

Z startled awake.

It was his turn guarding the room of NATO’s pet thief and he had fallen asleep! It was unlikely that anyone would try to kill Eroica. Or no one would have to.

It had been a week since his Lordship was brought into this hospital in the small hours of the morning, and the thief had yet to regain consciousness. Eroica’s group was getting worried. And not only them.

Many of the Major’s Alphabets had brought the thief flowers. Roses. And Z had noted the tear stains on Agent G’s face, but he had stayed put. It wasn’t his place to comfort the miserable man, who wanted love. Not friendship.

A sudden ruckus from down the corridor warned Z of possible attackers. On the other hand no self-respecting agent made that much noise. Maybe the clumsy night nurse had dropped something.

Z decided to stay alert just in case and went to investigate. The Major would never forgive him if he let the origin of the sound go without examining.

He only got about two meters before his arm was grabbed with an iron grip.

“Agent Z!” The death green eyes stared with fire. The Major’s trench coat had been ripped almost to shreds and his face was bruised. Z couldn’t help noticing how the Major’s hand held his left side and the older man couldn’t set his weight on his right leg at all. “Help me into Eroica’s room!”

“Major, sir, where have you been for a week?” Z knew his commanding officer knew that they both knew exactly what had happened. “Agent Z, you do not get paid for asking questions. Now, help me into that idiot’s room.”

Supporting Iron Klaus all the way from the corridor into Eroica’s hospital room, Z struggled with the half-conscious and severely wounded Major. Finally he sat his commanding officer onto the visitor’s chair and left to fetch a nurse for the Major.

***

There were certain things NATO kept to itself. Therefore it was not difficult accidentally losing a report about the five KGB operatives who had been tortured and brutally killed all during one week six months ago. Even though the high ranking officers had no disagreement on who had committed these atrocities, nobody said anything.

The agents had faced a slow and torturous death. First their nails had been ripped off, they had burn marks on their skin, they had been malnourished and they were bleeding internally, which would have eventually killed them. In the end, though, they had been shot execution style.

Ask anyone and they would say that those agents had died righteously. They deserved it.

***

“Eroica… Dorian, do you remember that book I gave you?” Klaus’s long fingers caressed blond curls away from the Brit’s pale face feverishly.  “You laughed as you were telling me about it. The sun framed your hair like you had a halo. You looked so fucking beautiful at that moment. For a while I even feared that your radiant smile would make me melt.” Having spent all of his remaining strength, he leaned heavily on the metal frame of the bed. All the while his fingers kept softly petting Dorian’s hair.

“Had I known the microfilm to be a trap, I wouldn’t have let the fatso hire you.” Klaus was aware how foolish that sounded, but he had to say it. “Scheiße, when I saw that hell of an ugly Russian holding you like you were a fucking ragdoll and dangling you over that goddamned scaffolding at the seventh fucking storey, my heart bloody stopped!”

***

There was fear in Eroica’s sky blue eyes when the Russian let go of his lapels. It was almost twenty meters’ fall down. The same fear was reflected in Klaus’s green eyes and for a second he forgot that he also was standing on the wooden planks tens of meters above the ground and he could not save Eroica. Dorian!

The time seemed to slow as Dorian fell. Panicking the thief closed his eyes. Then he took a deep breath, opened his pale blue eyes once more and Dorian smiled. He held out his hand to Klaus, whispered, “I love you” for the last time, and closed his eyes again.

Klaus stared in horror as Dorian fell further down.

***

The intervals between the beeps were longer.

Tired, Klaus raised his head from Dorian’s bed, where he had laid it a while ago, and looked at the heart monitor. “Idiot, I always imagined your death would be flashy. Isn’t this too common for Eroica?” A smile that was more similar to an evil grin played on Klaus’s face.

“Those bastards, who did this to you, were unexpectedly tough. Asinov, the one who caused all this, managed to catch me off guard while I was tailing him. Fucking commie! He’s to fault for this shape I’m in. I think I broke a rib or two.” The hand that was dyed red from all the blood predicted more than just a few broken ribs. Klaus decided not to say anything about that. He had already lost a lot of blood dragging himself back to the hospital.

Klaus’s vision was hazy and the corners of his eyes were steadily taken over by shadows. He sighed deeply and laid down right next to Dorian and gathered the willowy thief into his arms. “This is what you always wanted, isn’t, you damn pervert.” Klaus yawned, arranged Dorian comfortably against his chest and closed his eyes.

The beeps from the machine came even slower.

“I didn’t even have the time to tell you that I love you.” Then Klaus fell in deep sleep.

***

When Z got back to the Earl’s room with the nurse, he only heard the long, monotone beep from the heart monitor. The young nurse looked at Z and ran to the bed.

Z followed her and noticed the Major sleeping with Eroica in his arms. Suspicious, Z touched Iron Klaus on the arm.

Nothing happened.

Signaling the nurse to him, Z searched for a pulse on his commander’s neck. After a while he sighed and gave room for the nurse. When she had checked both of them, she shook her head in silence and exited the room quietly.

Staring at the two men like whom the world would never see again, Z felt the tears falling.

He sniffed and walked out of the room leaving the two noblest men he had ever known lying in each other’s arms on the narrow bed. Finally, in death Eroica and the Major could be together.

A was suspicious.

More suspicious than he had ever been.

His wife, Gladys, had a friend. A friend she’d met with almost daily lately. Never before had she done that. And she would not even let him know who this friend was.

In short, it was suspicious.

This is why A, a NATO agent, was now wearing a disguise and following his own wife while she was going out to meet this mysterious new friend. He was quite relieved that Gladys had taken their young daughter, Hanna, in her baby carriage along.

He watched as Gladys stopped at a small café. There was no one with her, but the secretive friend might already be in, waiting. Gladys looked up around her and went in leaving the baby carriage outside but taking their daughter with her.

A followed suit. It was his day off so he had all the time he needed. Actually the major had given all his Alphabets a week off after they had gotten back from their last mission. That too was suspicious now that A thought about it. But first things first.

He chose a table that hid him perfectly, but he was still able to see and hear what was being said in the other table.

As of now, Gladys and Hanna were the only ones in their table. A ordered a coffee from the waiter and sat down comfortably. He smiled thinking what the major would say if he saw him following Gladys like this.

It wasn’t long before someone approached Gladys’s table. Their steps were loud and carried with them an air of authority. A paled at hearing them. It couldn’t be?!

Risking a glance at the other table the disguised agent almost gasped.

His wife was meeting the Major!

A slid down on his seat mortified. Was Gladys cheating on him?! With his boss!

But surely the major would be honorable enough not to mess around with a married woman who had a child? A set in to listen to their conversation. He needed to find out what was going on here.

“Ah, Klaus, I was almost getting worried I had kept things from my husband for nothing.” Gladys smiled and made room for the major in the table. A couldn’t believe his ears. She’d called him Klaus! No one called the major by his first name without the word ‘Iron’ before it! Not even Eroica!

The major sat down and huffed. “I’m sorry, ma’am.”

Gladys rolled eyes at the formality. “What is it this time, dear? Did you do as I suggested?” She was trying not to flinch as he lit his cigarette and took a long drag. “Nein, I still don’t understand. How in the bloody hell could it work?” He crossed his arms across his chest and looked very closed-off.

“As I told you before, it is not wrong if the woman takes the initiative,” Gladys smiled softly and shifted Hanna in her arms, “For example my darling husband was very dense when we met. I had to ask him out first or he might have never come up and said anything. And I had to start hinting about marriage, too. Look, sometimes men are more capable at talking than actually doing.” She gave a wink and giggled. He blushed and stared at the glowing tip of his cigarette. A almost choked on air.

For a short while no one said anything. “Trust me most girls have been in the same situation. Helping you is no bother. I am just a little surprised that you have not asked for advice until now.” Hanna wriggled unhappily in her mother’s lap and Gladys moved in order to fix her position a bit.

“Ja, I know, but it’s that damned scent that bothers me. Lately, whenever I smell any goddamned roses, I feel lightheaded and it’s hard to breathe. And my thoughts get bloody jumbled.” There was a long drag from the cigarette and a soft exhale as the major let out the smoke.

Gladys gasped dramatically. “I had no idea you were that far gone! Reacting like that just to the smell of perfume or cologne usually means you connect that specific scent to the person wearing it. Thus it will work as a reminder to you. And your body. That is very romantic.” Sighing softly Gladys looked at the major. “Will you excuse me? Hanna wants her lunch. You’re a smart man, I’m sure you can work it out by yourself. That English Earl will not stay around forever, you know. You should hook him and reel him in now that you have a chance. It’s obvious that you love him.”

Smiling Gladys stood and started towards the ladies’ room leaving the major to his thoughts.

Flabbergasted, A stared at the retreating back of his wife. She had given his boss, Major von dem Eberbach, Iron Klaus of NATO advice on how to get a man. And not any man, but Eroica!

A couldn’t tell if he was more shocked, disgusted or relieved. Maybe now the infernal major would finally relax some. Laughing to himself he suddenly came to a horrifying realization.

He now owed G those 20 Marks. Dammit!

One freezing morning I was waiting for the bus too early to be properly awake. As my thoughts ran amok this came to mind.
Disclaimer: Characters not mine. Can't help it.
 

The dowager Lady Gloria was sipping her drink at a comfy little poolside bar at the hotel she was staying in. She had decided to visit Mary, her only unmarried daughter, in Nice and had chosen the best five-star hotel in the city. The day was sunny and warm and most of the other guests were paddling in the pool quite pitifully. Luckily the boy behind the bar was quite dashing and Lady Gloria did not mind his open staring. She knew she was still attractive.

When one of the hotel staff appeared right beside her Ladyship, she had the decency not to flinch in surprise. Turning to look at the man in quite a belittling manner, she gestured that he was allowed to address her. In a slightly nasal tone the man informed her that there was a guest requesting an attendance with her Ladyship. Thanking the man the dowager sent him to bring in her mysterious guest.

The man, it was obviously a man with wide shoulders and a thin waist, approached her with long, almost predatory steps. He had a silky black hair that reminded Lady Gloria somewhat of a wet crow’s feathers. His hair was long but not unattractive and definitely more tasteful than those blasted curls of her son. The aristocratic features of the man told her that he came from a good family. She was a little disappointed with his fashion sense, though. That horrible tie did not match his brown suit at all and that suit in itself looked a bit out of place in this weather. And that cigarette in his otherwise beautiful mouth would have made the dowager Lady Gloria cringe if not for the fact that it would have been very unladylike.

Negative things aside, that man would make a perfect son in law. Now if she could just get him to meet Mary and then she would have to get in touch with his parents to talk about the marriage arrangements. But first she wanted to know what this man had to say. The curiosity was almost too much to bear.

He bowed respectfully. “Lady Gloria, I am Major Klaus Heinz von dem Eberbach of NATO.”

If it would not have been too common of her, Lady Gloria would have giggled. A major! How delightful! One of her lady friends had mentioned once that officers make good husbands. At least all of her daughters were married to them.

She offered him her hand and stood up. “Major, let’s go inside to talk, shall we.”

The two walked into the air-conditioned lobby where they sat down on the comfortable armchairs with red and gold upholstery. The dowager liked the seats not only for the colours but also for their softness that made one feel like they would sink into the armoire.

Watching the man sitting on the chair next to her Lady Gloria couldn’t help noticing how the muscles on the man’s arms and legs stretched while the major was fidgeting on the apparently too soft armchair. A fine specimen indeed. He would provide her daughter with good offspring that Lady Gloria could be proud of. Unlike her wayward son.

“Major von dem Eberbach, why are you here? We have never met before.” Lady Gloria looked very regal against the red of the armchair’s upholstery. Her hair was done up in a bun and she was wearing a long blue dress that contrasted beautifully with her pale skin and brought out her eyes.

“Lady Gloria, I am here because of your son.” Very straight forward he was. The dowager Lady Gloria hoped that the mortification she felt did not show on her face. “Because of…Dorian?” How could it be that even after over a decade of no contact that silly boy could still ruin his mother’s day?

“What has my promiscuous son been up to then?” Maybe it was her imagination but Lady Gloria could have sworn that the man snorted at her question like she had no idea what she was saying. She sat a bit straighter and cleared her throat in a classy manner. He may be a major but she was still a countess.

The major leaned a bit further towards the dowager. “Lady Gloria, I am here to ask you for your son’s, Dorian’s, hand in marriage.” When she looked into those pools of green, she could understand how her capricious son could find himself falling for this man. The major appeared to be a very no nonsense type of person and he had an air of authority about him that made him hard to resist. All in all, Dorian couldn’t have found a better man. “Of…Of course. I give you two my blessing.” Lady Gloria even managed a small smile and gave the major’s hand a little squeeze. “I am sure you will make him happy.” The man then stood up, said his goodbyes and strutted out of the hotel lobby.

Watching him go the dowager couldn’t help thinking that now three of her four children were happily married. Getting to her feet she brushed off the cringles of her dress and made her way back to the bar outside. Now to find someone for dear Mary.

A huge thank you for Silverne for reading this through. :) I really appreciate it.

Catherine Rosenberg, seven years old, stared at her plate most intently like her breakfast would just suddenly jump up and start waltzing all over the table. From time to time she would quickly glance at her uncle who had, once again, come for his annual visit. It was Christmas Day and thus her mother, Lady Rosenberg, had seen it necessary to invite her younger brother to celebrate the Christian holiday in their winter house.

Again Catherine stole a peek at the long haired man sitting two seats to the left from her. All in all there were five people having breakfast around the huge mahogany dining table; Catherine herself, her mother and father, the Lord and the Lady of the house, and her Uncle Dorian and his new boy-toy. Or that is what her mother had said to his father one night when they thought that Catherine was long gone into the land of dreams.

The dark haired man sitting right next to her uncle looked quite intimidating to a young girl of seven. By no means would Catherine connect the word “boy” to that scary man who sometimes used funny sounding words while talking to uncle Dorian.

And the man most definitely was not a toy. He was human. Just like the rest of them. Mother must be feeling silly now. At that Catherine giggled, but stopped when her mother gave her a sharp look from across the table. She looked down at her hands slightly pink faced.

The polite chatter of the four adults was boring for the young girl to listen to. Her mind started to wander and there was one particular thing it seemed to focus on: her little trip around the house last night.

The night before Catherine had woken up feeling thirsty and without a sound she had slipped from under the covers on the bed, her feet meeting the warm rug on her floor. Tiptoeing to her door she had made sure no one was on the long hallway in order to drag her back to the confines of her room. Silently she had then opened the door and started down the corridor.

Hearing voices from the living room had made Catherine halt in her steps. The door had been left open and Catherine could see shadows flickering on the wall. Apparently the light in the fireplace was still on and two someones were discussing in the cozy room.

“Oh, darling, thank you so much!”  She had recognized her uncle’s pretty voice easily. As long as he was not talking with her mother, she would be able to make her way to the kitchen.

“The look on her face made all that completely worth it, don’t you think?” Uncle Dorian had laughed softly and Catherine had got closer in order to see who else was in the room.

“I think she will remember this for at least a year.” She had almost been to the door and could just barely see the other person. If she just quickly poked her head into the room. Surely uncle wouldn’t tell on her.

She had seen something socking.

There in the room was uncle Dorian and Father Christmas!

“If you really are so bloody grateful, help me with this damned suit.” Catherine had been even more surprised to hear Santa Claus speaking such foul language. Just wait till her friends heard about this!

“Oh, my, don’t tell me, you are actually starting to feel too hot in that.” Seeing her uncle wink at Saint Nicholas had almost made the young girl giggle. Clasping her hands securely over her mouth she had managed to hide those before the two had taken notice of her.

“Dorian, hot and cold…” Santa knew uncle Dorian! “…Are a matter of discipline. Yes, darling, I know.” Now this was something she would have to tell her friends come morning! She had to ask mother to let her friends come over for a visit so that she could tell them all about what she had witnessed.

Engrossed in her thoughts, Catherine had almost missed the grand finale.

Uncle Dorian had smiled at Father Christmas, who had been standing face to face with the blond haired man. Peeking from the doorway Catherine had only seen his back and thus did not know what kind of look the white bearded Saint Nicholas had been giving her uncle.

“Dear Santa, have I been a good or naughty this year?” Although Catherine had not quite understood why her uncle would ask that, she just shrugged. Maybe he was worried about his presents?

Santa Claus had obviously said something that made the smile on uncle’s face widen. Uncle Dorian had been nice then, Catherine had then concluded. She had almost slipped away from the room, before she realized that her uncle, uncle Dorian, had just kissed Saint Nicholas!

And it hadn’t even been a small little peck, one like the good night kisses Catherine would receive from her mother. The way uncle Dorian kissed Santa was more like a fairytale princess kissing her prince. Catherine had seen those pictured in her storybooks.

After that Catherine had almost ran to the kitchen to get herself something to drink before going back to bed. Fortunately nobody had seen her wandering around the house alone. She fell asleep with thoughts of fires and fairytale kisses on her mind.

Now, at the breakfast table the memories of the last night had made her young mind very confused. Absentmindedly poking the eggs on her plate she looked at her uncle. He was at the moment saying something to the scary man sitting across from him. Catherine decided that she really needed tell her family, and the intimidating man across from her uncle, what she had accidentally seen.

“Mother, I saw uncle Dorian kissing Santa Claus last night.”