"Sherlock, the flat is a mess. You do know we're having people over tonight dont you?" John said, picking up papers from around the sitting room. Sherlock laid on the sofa, hands under his chin, and eyes closed. "Why?" He asked firmly.
John looked down at him with annoyed eyes. "Sherlock, it's Christm-" "Oh god" he interrupted, opening his eyes and turning his gaze toward John. John looked back.
"Well, whether you like it or not, there are people coming in an hour! So get up and get changed." He turned back to continue picking up the papers. Sherlock let out a annoyed sigh and got up. "Fine." he said stomping off to his room and slamming the door like a five year old child.
About an hour and a half later, Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson were there. Molly stopped by for a few minutes but after Sherlock decided to made a snob comment about her hair, she left.
When everyone had left, John gave Sherlock a long square box to unwrap. When he tore back the hideous wrapping paper and opened the box, he was looking at a new violin bow. Perhaps one of the most expensive you can buy. His eyes lit up and he picked it up gently as if if might break with a single touch.
"How were you able to afford this?" he looked at John.
"My grandfather collected violins and violin bows. He gave me this a few years back but I never knew what to do with it" John smiled at the look on Sherlock's face. He looked like a little boy who just found out he was going to Disney world.
"John, I…Thank you." He looked at the bow for a good five minutes before he felt his heart sink. He hadn't gotten anything for John. Nothing at all. How was he going to tell John he didn't have anything after he had just been given this beautiful gift?
"It's fine, Sherlock, I know you didn't get me anything." John had been looking at him the entire time. Sherlock didn't even need to say anything and John already knew. And perhaps that's what hurt Sherlock the most. John didn't look upset or surprised. He just acted like this was the norm. Was Sherlock really that terrible? Did he normally forget things like this. John's birthday was back in July and he forgot about that too. John got up and went to his room. Sherlock felt terrible.
At around one in the morning, John received a text.
Come down stairs please. -SH
John squinted to read the words and texted back.
Why?-JW
Not a second later he received another text.
Just come downstairs now.-SH
John huffed and got out of bed and went down stairs. Sherlock was sitting in the same spot he was in when John went up stairs.
"Sherlock, it's one in the bloody morning. What do you want?"
Sherlock stood up and walked over to John.
"I didn't get you anything for Christmas or your birthday but I do have something I can give you."
"Oh yeah? What?"
"I want to give you my first kiss."
John smiled. He had never received a better Christmas present