Sherlock Holmes was never one for big get togethers. It wasn't a shock. The man hated practically everyone on the face on the earth. ... maybe hate is a strong word. They were just a bore to be around. People around Sherlock always bitched and moaned about the most useless things in the world, busying themselves with meaningless things such as relationships. God. Relationships. It's all people talked at parties. It was seemingly the most important thing in the world to figure out who was shagging who. That is why Sherlock turned down the offer to the police stations Christmas party from Lestrade.

The first time.

It took weeks of endless bickering between the two before Sherlock finally caved with an annoyed look across his face. Sherlock was only planning to pop in quickly, say hi to a few people, perhaps show off his incredible skill of deduction, then leave to spend the rest of Christmas Eve in his flat.

Sherlock walked into the little ball room that the police seemed to rent out for the evening. It was surprisingly nice. The chandelier was decent. Sherlock couldn't help but think about hanging it up in his own flat. The man shook his head before making his way over to Lestrade was with a few other people.