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“Somebody please get that!” she yelled, as the doorbell rang; her hands were full as she arranged one of the food items on a plate.
The modest home had turned into something of a Tardis over the past couple of hours as friends and family arrived.
Juvenile yelling pierced through the hall that barely avoided slamming into her.
“What did I tell you about running in the house? And where is your sister?”
“Sorry, Mummy!” the eldest called out.
“Unless there’s a fire – don’t.” replied the middle child simultaneously.
“I’m at the table, Mum!” replied the youngest.
Both boys were completely unrepentant as they slowed down to a fast jog barley negligible from their previous speed.
Released early from their thirty minute timeout, Sherlock and John ran to take their seats at the dining table where their sister Leona, clearly the fastest runner of the three, already waited.
The turkey had come out so perfect she had felt silly snapping a photo as she plated it, but she could not resist. She smiled with pride as she entered the dining room to place that pièce de résistance on the table to much applause. The turkey with apple walnut stuffing, along with the rack of lamb for her red-meat loving alpha of a husband, baked ham, roast beef, mashed potatoes and gravy, cranberry sauce, and mixed greens, carrots, turnips, and parsnips were on the main table. The sideboard held pumpkin, sweet potato, pecan and apple pies, and a peach cobbler along with bread and figgy puddings, chocolate and lemon cakes, and homemade ice cream waiting the refrigerator for desserts.
It was renaissance worthy mix of English and American culinary artistry, if she had to say so herself, and she did. She had the best teacher after all in her Nana Violet. She missed her grandmother who taught her much about life in and out of the kitchen as a woman and as an omega in the world before she passed away.
She had Facetimed or Skyped with all but one of her siblings, their respective partners as well as nieces, and nephews throughout the day, but it was not the same. It was Siån’s first Christmas in the States since she moved here with her American husband, Leonard, their twin boys and their daughter. Before this year she had always been home in London for Christmas, but she was on probation at her new job with a law office of only a few months. She could not take the time off to travel and her family; bless them, refused to go without her. Next year they could go back to their usual Thanksgiving in the States with his side of the family, Christmas in London with hers, but she made the best of it this year by being surrounded by her husband’s family this side of the Pond for the holiday.
She looked around the crowded home happy to see those of her stateside friends and family had gathered as the doorbell rang yet again. She felt her husband’s mental kiss on the temple through their bond and smiled as he stood to answer the door. Leo knew she was enjoying herself, but she missed her family and her eyes could not help but stray to the seats that should have been occupied by her fathers. She has not seen them in five years and missed them terribly. Siån could all but hear her dad grousing about, with her papa in mock exasperation shaking his head.
“Please tell me you’ve gotten past the obligatory words to your make-believe deity in the sky. I really don’t want to sit through that.” a familiar voice was heard.
Siån's head popped up at the sound.
“Behave, you! You’ve sat through…what - twenty-something christenings by now? You can handle grace,” another familiar voice chastised.
Siån gasped delighted.
That was followed by a snort of derision in a familiar baritone that had Siån flying for the front door with her children right behind her; the earlier rule on running through the house abandoned for this.
As much as she loved her husband, Leo understood and made an exaggerated dive out of the way with a laugh before closing the door behind the latest entries to their home.
“Papa?! Daddy?!” Siån tearfully launched herself at the man with the silvery blond hair as the taller man with the dark curly hair threw his wide arms to surround them both.
“Hey! Hey! Hey! I’ve miss you too, First Born.” Alpha John Holmes-Watson, Pack Patriarch of Holmes-Watson, grasped his eldest child in a bear hug.
“Hello Daughter Mine,” Omega Sherlock Holmes-Watson kissed the top of her head as pheromone strains of Pack Familiar wash over them.
“Granddaddy! Grandpapa!” Sherlock and John stood flabbergasted as they stared at their respective name sakes before coming in for their own hugs.
“Aunty Nat! Aunty Nat! Don’t worry we’ve already said grace.” Leona hugged the waist of the woman.
Siån grinned at the two men who still did not look a day older than when they brought her and her fraternal twin brother into the world.
“We knew you could not get home. So I brought the most important part of home to you.” Natalia bent to kiss each of her nephews and her niece. “I hear you’ve got lemon cake, can we eat now?”
“You hear?” John laughed as he looked from his third daughter to his husband, “Oh bloody hell; she’s as bad as your brother!”
“Oh, I think she’s worse.” Sherlock stage whispered, “The modern day Master of Whisperers.”
“I’m stunned you know the reference, Daddy.” Natalia drawled then looked to her niece and nephews, “Cake’s that-a-way, let’s go get some, shall we?”
The children happily followed their aunt to the sweets.
“Have you wired my house?” Leo turned to his sister-in-law, eyes narrowed.
“Me? I would never do such a thing!” The alpha sibling winked as she passed, “as though I would tell you if had.”
{Natalia Olivia the truth!} Their Alpha father’s compel voice was heard in all of the adult minds at the door.
“Not fair, Papa!” Natalia winced. John raised a warning brow. “Fine! I spoke with Ben in London yesterday. He said you were making lemon cake. I promised to bring him a slice. He loves your lemon cake.”
“Among other things?” Sherlock’s voice was hopeful.
Leo laughed at the question, “Yes, my wife, your daughter made the Mrs. Hudson famous, Christmas pudding.”
“Why didn’t you say so?” Sherlock’s eyes crinkled as he headed for the food. “That’s all I’m here for!”
“Daddy!” Siån gasped in mock hurt.
“You will have a proper meal first, omega.” John laughed as he followed the rapidly receding back of his husband.
“But of course, Alpha!” Sherlock called back, his voice belying the statement.
“I told you they would come if you made figgy pudding.” Leo grinned at his wife.
“You said, let’s get a little UK in the USA.” she punched his arm playfully. “You knew they were coming! That’s why you asked for it. I’m onto you!” Siån gave him a tight appreciative hug. “Thank you!”
“Well, I never…!” came an indignant older female voice from the living room as several others snickered loudly.
“Well, we both know that’s not true…” the elder Sherlock drawled.
“Sherlock, eat your pudding!” the elder John’s voice rose over whatever nastiness was about to drop from his omega’s mouth.
“But Papa, that’s what she gets for asking Daddy of all people for veracity if the garment worn increases the visualization of her posterior adipose tissue.” Natalia defended her omega father.
“Oh Lord, your sister Nat and both your dads versus my cousins Amelia and Nancy, plus my Uncle Jerry...?” Leo partially laughed, partially groaned, “What have we done?”
“A little UK in the USA? Guaranteed a Happy Christmas!” Siån grinned evilly, she was her fathers' daughter after all, “Race you to the metaphorical popcorn to watch the fireworks, and see how much we can heckle?”
“Oh, you’re on...”