Internet shopping never goes well with Sherlock in the flat. He'll stand over my shoulders and judge each gift.

"She won't appreciate a scarf with her wool allergy." Or "Is that a cross on that necklace? Didn't you know that she's Jewish?" Or "A leather belt? She's vegan. She thinks that's animal cruelty. How can you not know that?"

"If you know so much about her, Sherlock, then why don't you tell me what to buy?"

"She's your girlfriend, John, not mine."

So when her new phone case arrived in shades of green and yellow instead of the pink I'd ordered, I just assumed that he had corrected my bad taste to something that she'd like better. She liked it alright, although I couldn't tell by looking at her. She broke into tears at the sight of it. When she had calmed down, she told me that it reminded her of her old school. She had left for the city, and lost touch with her old school friends. She excused herself to give an old friend a call. That weekend she cancelled our date because she had gone home to visit. Two days later we broke up. Apparently her old friend was in love with her, and had never had the courage to say so until now. I said it was fine, and that I was happy for her, realizing only then that I was going to spend another Christmas alone.

Sherlock poked his head out of the kitchen then and offered me a glass.

"Mrs Hudson made eggnog," he said.

"You changed the color of the phone case, didn't you?"

"What phone case?"

I sighed heavily taking a drink of the eggnog which was unusually strong.

"We could play cards. That is unless you have a date."

"You know I don't have a date, Sherlock, and the only card game that I know how to play is strip poker."

"I've never played, can you teach me?"

I must say that at that moment my desire for revenge overrode my common sense, or I would have seen it for the trap it was. My plan to send Lestrade a picture of Sherlock starkers made me forget for a moment that my flat mate is a genius. Good thing we have a fireplace. Some parts of the anatomy weren't meant to get frost bite.

I told Sherlock that I wasn't buying him a present. He was too critical, and he already had better things than I could afford to buy him. He said that was fine. My company was enough. Despite his anti-social tendencies, Sherlock can be remarkably sweet sometimes. The eggnog was definitely spiked. It made Sherlock's chest turn apple red. Then again that might have been embarrassment when Mrs Hudson fled downstairs after coming up to bring us some Christmas pudding.

I was pretty pissed. I can say that now. No other explanation for the way that I plucked a bit of holly off the mantle and used it to cover my privates calling out that my name was Adam. Sherlock passed out on the floor, and it took me a great deal of effort to get him into his bed. Now that I think about it. That was mistletoe, not holly, no thorns. Anyway...

The next day he was incredibly quiet. Probably had a hangover, I know I did. I found his present, a new band for my watch. Mine had broken a few weeks before, and I had taped it. So now I'm surfing the internet trying to find him a gift anyway.

"Not the red one, John. You know that I prefer the blue."

"Stop reading over my shoulder, you spying git!"

Sherlock turned away with a smile.