Hi guys. I came over all funny this morning and decided that I was going to try to do something for advent. And that something is write Sherlock themed drabbles.

Whether I stick to it or not is another matter, but I think the writing practice could be quite fun.

The theme for each drabble comes from the Oxford English Dictionary's word of the day.

Today's word is: December

John comes home from work to find Sherlock curled up in an armchair, staring at his pyjama-clad knees. When John says hello, Sherlock just grunts.

Right, then. The forecast for John getting a decent conversation this evening looks bleak.

He ignores the fug of Sherlock's mood for the moment and turns to the mantelpiece to check the post. It's then that he notices the new addition to the room.

There, sitting quite happily on the mantelpiece in front of him, is an advent calendar.

It's a chocolate one. There's a cheery picture of a Christmas tree on the front, with the name 'Cadbury' emblazoned at the top. From the looks of it, it's not been opened.

John's not quite sure what to make of that. He's never envisioned Sherlock as an advent calendar type of person. But, well, the man does have some soft spots; maybe this is one of them.

"This your advent calendar?" asks John, turning to Sherlock.

"Mm?" says Sherlock, in the general direction of the carpet.

"The advent calendar." John picks it up for good measure, the chocolates rattling inside. "I didn't think you'd like this sort of stuff."

Sherlock frowns, then looks up, apparently taking in John's presence for the first time. "What? Advent calendar?" He looks the advent calendar in John's hand and sighs. "John, I don't mind if you want to buy an advent calendar, but you don't have to trumpet it everywhere."

"What?" John looks to the advent calendar. "No. No, I didn't buy it." He sets it back down on the mantelpiece with a frown. "It was right here. I thought it was yours."

Sherlock scoffs and turns back to his knees.

John peers at it. "Whose is it then?"

Sherlock shrugs. "I hardly care, John."

"But someone must have put it there," says John. "Surely you would have noticed who brought it?"

Sherlock waves a hand. "Don't know. Busy. Not important."

"Must have been Mrs Hudson," says John, mostly to himself. He folds his arms and looks at it. "Do you want to open it then?" he asks Sherlock over his shoulder. "It is the 1st today."

From the armchair, Sherlock lets out a dramatic, long-suffering sigh.

"Fine then," says John. "More chocolate for me." He leans in, finds the door numbered 1 and opens it. But instead of the usual Christmassy picture with a piece of chocolate nestled behind shiny foil, what John finds is a scrawled set of co-ordinates and what, very worryingly, looks like the tip of someone's finger.

"Sherlock," says John, not letting the gruesome spectacle out of his sight. "Sherlock, I think you want to have a look at this."

"John, I am busy," huffs Sherlock, then stops when John thrusts the advent calendar under his nose. He takes one look at the fingertip and lights up like a kid on Christmas morning.

"A puzzle!" he cries, snatching the calendar from John's hands and leaping to his feet. "Oh, this is perfect!"

John goes to say that most people would find this sort of thing a little threatening, but Sherlock's already dashed off to his bedroom to go get changed.