"Sherlock, get to bed. It's Christmas Eve." John shouted before trudging up the stairs. It was close to ten that evening. Sherlock sat alone at the table in front of his laptop, and was looking for a document before clicking on the wrong one. He sighed and was just about to close it when he caught what document this had been from.
Dear Santa,
I know you can't be real, because that's impossible. I've believed that since I was very young, but sometimes, it doesn't hurt to try once in a while. I know I'm a bit old for this; usually these letters and things are so childish anymore. But either way, I'm asking you for something special; something I'm in desperate need of. That is, I'm asking you to send me a friend; and not just any friend, because the world is full of those.
You see, I want a very special friend. One who won't leave when I'm being moody, or insensitive, or uncooperative (which according to Mycroft, I am), or unreasonable, etc. A friend that will stay with me and stand by my side and always be there when I need a friend. So, if you could please sir, find me a friend that fits those qualities. I know you can, even if you are just a story for young children, but it doesn't hurt to try this.
Sincerely,
Sherlock Holmes
The date was from the previous Christmas. He'd remembered writing that, but it hadn't been long after that John came into his life. And now that he reread his letter, he realized what John was now. The friend he always wanted. A friend he needed more than anything. The friend that would be there forever, whenever, wherever, no matter what.
Sherlock still had his doubts, but it was still Christmas Eve, and there was still time. He opened a new, blank document and hurriedly typed out a new letter.
Dear Santa,
Considering that I have a friend now, and one who is exactly like I described last year, I have to come to the ultimate conclusion that it may be true that you do exist, even if you cannot be seen.
This year, I do not have anything to ask for, but instead, I wish to thank you deeply for sending me John Watson. He is the friend I needed and the best mate I could ever ask for. And it may be even possible to say, the only man I have ever known to put up with so much from me.
He's patient, wise, and brave. Nerves of steel and a steady hand when it comes to shooting. He's talented, and a better man than he knows. So again, sir, thank you. And if you could, to know if you received this or not, let Christmas be extra special for him. He deserves it more than anyone. Again, thank you.
Sincerely,
Sherlock Holmes.
He quickly printed out the letter and folded it nicely, setting it on the table with a small glass of milk and a few cookies Molly had brought over. He looked at the room, slightly satisfied with the look of the place, then headed to his room to sleep.
The next morning, John was the first to wake. He went down to the kitchen to make breakfast when he noticed an empty plate and small glass, along with two notes laying side by side. John picked up the first, reading over it. That one was a letter from Sherlock to… no, it couldn't be. He checked the name again. From Sherlock to Santa Clause?!
John shook his head, replacing the first note and picking up the second. It was short, but to the point.
Dear Sherlock,
I'm glad that you and John get along so well. And, of course, this year shall be better than the others on Christmas. I left you both a small gift on the mantle. Hope you enjoy your times together.
- SC
John blinked twice and read it through again. He was just about to put the note down when Sherlock emerged from his room, dressed for the morning. John cleared his throat and Sherlock looked up from buttoning the top button of his shirt.
"Can you explain these?" John asked, holding up the two notes. "Don't tell me you believe in Santa Clause." He said with a laugh. Sherlock's face was serious as ever as he snatched the notes from John.
"Yes, I do. He's even wrote me back. More than he did last Christmas." Sherlock said as he walked over to the mantle and retrieved his gift. He folded up the notes and stuck them in his pocket before unwrapping the small box. It was a plain box with a note inside the size of a fortune cookie's fortune.
Don't be afraid to give of oneself for the sake of the other's happiness.
Sherlock pondered it as he tossed John his gift. John caught it, looking suspicious, but opened his as well. He found that the same thing was inside, only this one was a different inscription.
Never hide your true feelings; let them shine brighter than stars.
John blinked, sitting back in the chair at the table. "What on earth are these?" he asked himself out loud.
"No idea… but maybe they are to hint as to what's coming up this next year." Sherlock said as he moved to the tree they had put up in the flat. He grabbed one of the presents that was wrapped beautifully in the shiniest of red wrapping paper and handed it to John.
John looked up at Sherlock before taking it and opening it. It was a box of his favorite chocolates, and not the cheap kind. These were real Swiss chocolates. He opened the box to find a small note inside.
I hope you enjoy these. It was the best I could give to you for always being there for me. Have a very happy Christmas, John. –SH
John smiled, standing up and placing the chocolates on the table. He gently tapped Sherlock's shoulder and waited for the consulting detective to turn around. When he did, John pulled him into a hug.
"Thank you, Sherlock. And I'll always be here for you." John said confidently before pulling away. Sherlock smirked.
"I think you're forgetting something, John." Sherlock said with a small grin replacing his smirk.
"Oh? And what exactly am I forgetting?" John asked, raising an eyebrow. Sherlock smiled wider and pointed up above their heads. John looked up, only to see the one addition that neither he nor Sherlock had put up the night before: mistletoe.
"Mistletoe, John." Sherlock said softly. John blushed.
"Yeah, I'm well aware of what that is." He said with a faint smile. "I'm guessing your friend, Santa, put it there."
"I suppose he did." Sherlock said rather indirectly. John gulped once, before pulling Sherlock closer.
"Well, can't break tradition, can we?" John asked, now smirking lightly.
"No, I don't believe we can." Sherlock replied, moving closer. John pulled him down to his level before kissing him solidly on the lips. As their lips parted after a few moments, Sherlock smiled brightly at John.
"Happy Christmas, John Watson." John smiled at Sherlock.
"Happy Christmas to you too, Sherlock Holmes."