Merry Christmas! Going back to the OGCs rather than the OCs.

As always, enjoy x


Sunday 3rd December 2017, 2.19am, Finch's Townhouse, Carnegie Hill, New York

Ever since the fateful day Detective Simmons ambushed his lover in an alleyway, John was somewhat convinced of the virtues of wearing a bulletproof vest. But true to form it took him some years and close calls to actually wear one rather than strongly suggest she should. The beauty of Kevlar, in his opinion, was its capacity to absorb evil intentions as well as bullets. "All this crap for 80 grand…" He grumbled to Leon's amusement. The quest to retrieve funds to repay Lady Emmeline was a lot less glamourous than the hunt for horcruxes and they weren't being rewarded nearly enough for their efforts. Especially since the forensic accountant couldn't drop the topic of the now-you-see-it-now-you-don't band of gold that confounded him, but at least he had learnt to duck without questioning.

"Come on, Reese. Who's the lucky lady?" Leon cracked a can of lemonade open to mix with gin. "I can't believe the planets collided to make that happen. Was Mercury in retrograde?" John scanned his face…yep, still punchable. "And Zoe Morgan has a baby? Who would've thought it? It doesn't really go with the whole fixer-in-the-City thing, does it?" John remained tight-lipped just to see if he dared to go where he thought he would. "You know, if it's yours…"

When John jabbed Leon in the solar plexus with sharp precision, it took the wind out of him for more than a few moments. "While you regain composure – and common sense – let me advise you of something; if Joss ever hears you say those words out loud, it'll be you hiding out at the infirmary in Sing-Sing instead of that serial killer. Got it?"

Wednesday 6th December 2017, 5.43pm, 8th Precinct

Even though her feet were sore from waiting around all day to meet with James "Scissorhands" Windsor, the famed serial killer who was writing a book and finally agreed to talk to her, her partner looked like his day was worse than hers. With Noguerra being a thorn in their side, chasing after the cold cases from the late 2000s, and MollyMia on his mind; Fusco wasn't handling it well at all. "…So I do think he killed Laura Lynch because it matches his M.O. and he gave details consistent with her injuries that night including the laceration and bruising on her forehead and the ankle sprain from when she fell trying to run away from him, Fusco?"

He was wringing his hands like her ex-husband did when something was bothering him. "Uhh, yeah. If you think that, you should go with it."

She raised her eyebrows because the last time he was acting this strange, she took Bear for a long walk and a body hunt for his sake. "Go with it?"

"You know what I mean." He crushed the empty water cup in his left hand. "What about Rhonda Finney and Emilia Sandler?"

"Skinner." She corrected him. "Rhonda was a second cousin and he refused to talk about her. I don't feel like digging up that family tree this year. He told me a story about Emilia but I'm not buying it 'cause she was found with her hair intact. All 22 inches. And she was sexually assaulted and my gut tells me he's an incel."

"Can't get any? Welcome to my world." His inappropriate joke wasn't lost on her.

"What's going on, Fusco? Trouble in paradise? So soon?"

6.15pm, Finch's Townhouse, Carnegie Hill, New York

It had been years since Finch smelt a real Christmas tree, watched it shed in the hallway, and found its remnants on the carpet. But Zoe liked real trees and, as Delta proved, what Zoe wanted she got. It didn't cross John's mind that they would need a tree until he saw it, as it was his responsibility to ease his wife's disappointment at her mother's absence that year. He hadn't thought of the gifts underneath either, and it seemed he was dropping the ball before they even got started.

6.20pm, 8th Precinct

"Say it." Fusco was as resigned to his partner's role as romantic advisor, dating coach and online matchmaker as he was the idea of Shaw breaking into his apartment to finish off his favourite snack before he opened them. But he drew the line at revealing Martina's name

"It seems to me it's not just their condition that's bothering you, Fusco. It's being a husband and father again. Having three sons and a wife, instead of Lee and phone calls with Jean. MollyMia doesn't need a boyfriend, or a buddy; she needs something solid. Otherwise, you should just be friends who hang out with their kids."

Fusco wanted to be just friends as much as he wanted to see the doctor. "You're blocking."

She shrugged her shoulders. "I'm being honest 'cause I've been there. And I think she told you because she really likes you and wants to know if she has a chance."

In his eyes, she was the expert in that area so he couldn't fault her. "I really like her."

"I can tell. You even smell better."

He didn't know spending $120 on a bottle of cologne he couldn't pronounce would be noticed or appreciated. "Gee. Thanks."

"She brings you joy, Fusco." She looked him up and down. "Don't we need it?"

He sniffed and put his bravado back on, because she was working him like she did her suspects in her Military days. "If you break into song, Carter…"

9.17pm, Galah Apartments, Washington Street, West Village, Manhattan

For someone who spent years in isolation and homelessness as a nameless, invisible man, John didn't understand why being alone impacted him now; why he paced up and down the apartment, dusted and cleaned off his crossbows, went through the fridge even though he wasn't hungry. And it seemed someone else shared his restlessness because his third phone rang. "Grasshopper." He greeted, relieved he'd have some help planning Christmas in the huge vacuum Evelyn was leaving behind. "How's it going?"

"It's going." Taylor replied, scrolling through Bella's Instagram when he knew he shouldn't. The Lionbabe blonde hair was gone along its length and volume, she was back to black and it was cut short barely brushing her shoulders.

"What's wrong?"

"Margot called today. The Diversity and Inclusion department made their decision. So many words."

"Cliff notes?"

"She's not guilty of discrimination but her blog was offensive and hostile towards foreigners. She has to write a retraction and apologise."

"That's all?" John knew what lay beneath his silence. "Please tell me you're not back with Zahra."

"No, I'm not. She's engaged, remember?"

He didn't remember. "Then who…Bella. Again, Taylor?"

Again? Sometimes. Most times. Always. "I can't help it."

John was in no position to judge because when Joss hung her jacket up at the door, he could barely concentrate at the eight pounds of happy weight that went to all the right places. She flashed a smile and he had to admit to himself, "No…you really can't. When are you coming home?"

"Next Saturday." Taylor read beneath his silence too. "Get a tree, John. Artificial, 6ft. And decorations. But don't decorate it, she does that to Donny Hathaway."

John smiled, because Taylor couldn't help himself from helping and he needed it. "Anything else?"

"Marshmallow Pie from Sylvia's Soul Café in Crown Heights, order one now, they sell out quick. She'll never admit it but it's better than Gram's coconut cake."

"Sounds like Treason." John joked, but it was no laughing matter.

"It is. John, when are you gonna take Ma out on a date? A real date."

Joss flashed another smile as she opened some mail. She wondered what they were talking about and why his blue eyes were flashing. "Soon."