AN: Sorry this is so late, it's been up on ao3 since Christmas, but didn't particularly like me these last few days :(

Anyhow, all of my pairings on Christmas Day, hope you guys like it :)

1. Mycroft/Greg

"Hey, Darling, how are things going? Have you unwrapped presents yet?

Yeah, I know you're not five any more."

Greg sat up in bed and rolled his eyes at his daughter on the phone.

"Can't you still be excited for Christmas, even if you're older? I know I still am."

He listened to her response and smiled to himself.

"Of course, Love, I'll always be childish and embarrassing. It's part of my job description as a dad and you know it."

She said something else and Greg's smile faltered for a moment.

"Well, he may not be childish, but he isn't your dad either, is he. Anyways, have a lovely Christmas and tell your mum I said 'Hi', will you? Love you, too. Bye."

Greg sighed and put the phone on the night stand. Then he turned around in bed, the smile returning to his face, broader then before.

"Sorry about that."

"I've told you before, I don't mind. I understand perfectly well that you want to talk to your daughter on Christmas Day," Mycroft replied, looking entirely uncharacteristic with slightly mussed

hair and a smile on his face to equal Greg's.

"Thanks," Greg said and leaned over for a kiss.

"I'm so glad you're here with me," he mumbled against Mycroft's lips. "Merry Christmas."

2. John/Sherlock

"Alright!" John said, smiling at the mess of wrapping paper that covered the Watson-Holmes living room. "I think that were all the presents!" The 'finally' went unspoken.

"I don't think so," Sherlock said, winking at Hamish.

"Why, have I forgotten to give one of you something?" John asked, looking around in confusion.

"No," Hamish piped up. "We just still have a surprise for you!"

He ran over to the piano. "I wanted to sing at first, but then we decided that some things need to be said without words. Papa, take your violin already!"

"I have it," Sherlock said, picking up the instrument. "Count to three?"

"One...Two...Three!" Hamish started playing on the piano, looking intently at the sheet of scribbled notes in front of him, while Sherlock just closed his eyes and felt the music like he usually did.

At the end of the song, John had tears in his eyes. "That was just for me?" he asked, voice a little thick.

"Yes!" Hamish said excitedly. "We composed it together! I would hum something that sounded like you and Papa wrote it down. Did you like it?"

"Loved it," John replied.

"But not as much as I love you both. Merry Christmas."

3. Kirk/Spock

"Why don't we ask him to join us?"

"Jim, I don't believe he'll want to join us. He's Vulcan. How could he possibly want to celebrate Christmas. Surely it's illogical."

Jim sighed.

"Come on, Bones, don't be mean. He's half human, I bet he knows about Christmas."

"I even used to celebrate it, in fact," a voice behind them said.

"Spock!" Jim called, his whole face lighting up.

Spock lifted the corner of his mouth, and Bones looked like he was going to choke on his roast in surprise .

"Did you just smile?" he asked after he'd finished coughing.

"It is entirely possible," Spock replied, sitting down next to Jim.

"I believe I should also wish you a 'Merry Christmas'."

4. Derek/Stiles

It was Christmas Day and Derek was sitting at home alone.

The candles on his tree weren't burning and the fridge was empty.

He knew he was sulking, and that it was ridiculous, that Stiles would of course want to spend Christmas with his dad.

They had kissed once, after watching the Christmas movies.

They weren't boyfriends or anything, they'd just really become friends.

And still.

Derek was startled from his brooding by someone at the door.

"Hey!" an only too familiar voice called.

"Are you still asleep, or are you honestly sitting in the dark on Christmas Day? Why am I not surprised?"

"Stiles?" Derek asked carefully.

"Yeah, well, whom did you expect? Santa?" Stiles stepped into the living room, shaking snow from his hair.

"I brought you cookies, and I want you to eat them. I'm pretty sure werewolves can't be allergic to anything, so no excuses."

"Stiles," Derek repeated. "You actually came."

Stiles grinned awkwardly.

"What did you think, huh? I thought we were a thing now."

Derek walked over and, before he could think it over, kissed Stiles hard on the mouth.

"Oh wow," Stiles murmured when they broke apart. "Merry Christmas, indeed!"

5. Arthur/Eames

"Arthur, come on!" Eames called.

Arthur appeared in the door way, toweling his hair dry, rolling his eyes.

"Can't you wait five more minutes for your presents? I'm not even dressed."

Eames looked him up and down approvingly.

"As long as you're wearing pants, it counts as dressed. And very nice pants, I might add."

"You gave them to me! They're hideous."

"I don't see how little elks with Santa hats could ever be anything else than stylish,"

Eames replied with a completely straight face.

Arthur sighed and walked over, swatting at Eames with his towel for good measure.

"You know, I actually believe you. Your bad taste is only surpassed by your unawareness of it."

Eames laughed.

"You know you love it, Darling."

"By God, I do," Arthur admitted, linking his fingers with Eames.

"Merry Christmas."