He slips into his room to retrieve Watson's presents from their hiding place, unable to keep himself from grinning ridiculously all the while. He'll need to school that grin if he's hoping to surprise Watson with the sheer ridiculousness of one of his presents; by the time he's emerged, he's wrestled his smile into something more acceptable -- less devious, more playfully excited.

As he returns, the clock appropriately begins to chime midnight, and he gives it a rather amused smile. How well-timed. He halts Watson on his way to the sofa, shifting his packages so that he has a free hand, which he lays against Watson's face.

"Merry Christmas, my dear John."