Disclaimer : I do not own Sherlock, or the Characters in any form, and this fic is my own work. For ChaseAwayMyFears, who kept bullying me to finish this!
Make A Wish
It was a cold windy day, but the atmosphere was warm. The crowds of people had pink noses and cheeks from the cold, and large smiles due to the festive spirit. Bright lights twinkled from shop and home windows and smoke cast a glaze over everything,. from chimneys, bonfires and fast food sellers it drifted mysteriously, weaving in and out of the crowds of exited humans.
They had to register as humans, bizarre as that thought may be, because of the large amounts of time that John spent around Sherlock. He was not human; he was almost a god.
The ordinary people congregated in crowds, or moved hurriedly between stores, overlooking the faces that they passed, not stopping to spare glances at salesmen, and either looking through or determinedly away from the homeless. They had precious shopping to do, they didn't have the time or money for beggars. John unfortunately was much too polite when it came to strangers approaching him; the salesmen were just doing their job, and the beggars were only asking for help. They had nothing, and they had a right to try. He kept to the centre of the pavement so that he wouldn't have to pass the most needy, he was in a rush and as a doctor he would feel obligated to help them.
It could give Mycroft a bad impression if he was late, and as much as Sherlock loved to aggravate the man it would also give Mycroft something to complain about, complaints that would eventually be subtly slid across to his brother. John did everything he could to prevent the irritation that plagued Sherlock for days whenever he faced Mycroft, hence why he was handing over the information at a neutral location rather than allowing Mycroft to pick it up from Baker's Street. He would be coming over on Boxing Day, and John's favourite sociopath was edgy enough about that already.
The exchange was short and sweet, polite questions posed for courtesy's sake but neither one particularly interested in the answers. The information needed very little explanation and the two man didn't know each other well enough to speak of anything of a personal nature, their only mutual interest being Sherlock, who wouldn't be terribly happy about becoming a topic of discussion. John remained in the café long enough to finish his coffee and then he was gone, Mycroft having left immediately after he had received what he wanted, Anthea by his side. John still had never seen the woman without her phone.
It would be like Sherlock not carrying nicotine patches.
It had become even colder in the brief amount of time indoors, be it in contrast or an actual change in weather. John sighed as he hit a mass of teenagers crammed together across the pavement and his pocketed hands clenched closer together around his rigid frame to attempt to conserve body heat.
He had to turn sideways to edge around them, being slow even as he tried to hurry, and he couldn't avoid the man approaching him wearing a fluorescent jacket and Santa hat, carrying a stack of leaflets.
"Please could I have a few moment of your time?" John lifted one hand to try and pause him and moved to dodge around him while shaking his head.
"I'm sorry, I'm -uh- really busy right now. Maybe later." The man reached out for his shoulder and presented him with a leaflet that John took before gently wrenching his arm free and stuffing it into his pocket. He broke into a jog as their meet point wasn't so far from 221B that he wanted to wait half an hour for a taxi in this mass of people.
Sherlock had left by the time that John returned, but it clearly wasn't anything important as he had left a note. He never left a note if he was solving a case, and a text would be standard if he wanted help with anything.
It was much too quiet there without Sherlock so John turned on the television and searched for some crap telly before abandoning it on desperate housewives and going to make a cp of tea, with a couple of biscuits. He relaxed back into his seat, raising the steaming mug to his frozen lips and propped his feet up on the much abused coffee table. He leant is head back against the back of the chair and sighed as his mind fell into a kind of unrestrained bliss, his thoughts running freely and unconsciously while he half watched the events on screen. His thoughts were constant, fluid and to the point, and John realised that this level of clarity was probably similar to the effects of nicotine on Sherlock.
As John reflected over the days events, one hand crept across to his jacket pocket and pulled out the crumpled leaflet that St Fluorescent Nick had given him. The design was simple, festive, and it bore the legend 'Make A Wish'. The charities purpose was to make the wishes come true of terminally ill children. This was their Christmas appeal.
The inside of the leaflet gave examples of their work, fully explained their purpose and also asked if anyone needed a Christmas wish to come true. It had a small cut out slip to fill in containing the info that they would need to help.
Name: John Watson
Christmas Wish: Sherlock Holmes
John laughed, shocked at what he had written, and moments later a soft thud was heard as a ball of leaflet hit the bin.
888
Christmas eve for John and Sherlock was a quiet affair. Neither of them were particularly energetic about the holiday, and they didn't feel close enough to, even if they had the desire, invite people around for a party. They would rather spend time together in their companionable quiet watching crap telly with party hats on than have all of their family here attempting to start a war. It really was for the best.
Mrs Hudson had gone to spend Christmas with a friend, and John had broken things off with Sarah for reasons that he himself didn't understand. Sherlock probably did, however John was not going to ask for an analysis of him, his preference, and his entire dating history. Not when he was scared of the answer.
Sherlock placed his paper down by his feet (on the coffee table) and dramatically glanced at his watch. The man knew little subtlety.
"Shouldn't we, uh, start the countdown?"
"Sherlock, that's for new years."
"Really? Honestly, that's ridiculous. Surely people would rather countdown to the made up date-of-birth of one of the most iconic people ever than another year. I mean, we've had over 2000 since said birthday anyway. And the new year is not a new start. Its another beginning of the same cycle, that'll probably end in roundabout the same way. " He paused his rant a moment and looked briefly at John. "Because people are stupid."
John sighed and shook his head. "I'm not even gonna argue with that." His attention directed back to the TV, only to find it switched off moments later.
"10,9,8,7,6,5,4"
"Sherlock, what are you?"
"1..."
A white envelop suddenly appeared in Sherlock's hand and he waved it in front of John's face., and he shook it a few times until John took it.
"You know Sherlock, I thought we were going to get up really early and open pressies because you decided that you missed the way Christmas was as a kid?"
"Well, it's kind of different now anyway, now that I know Santa isn't real, and" He frowned. "Aren't you going to open it?"
"Yeah, thanks." He looked up a minute. "Do you want to open one of yours? I mean I didn't really know what to get you, so-"
"Just open it, John."
John slid his nail quickly under the flap of the envelope, slightly excited by the way that Sherlock was staring at him intently. Or maybe it was something really odd… Or maybe he'd actually paid off a load of their bills! Or maybe not…
Pulling the contents out of the envelope, John put the card immediately to the side, and stared at the rather familiar looking glossy paper. He recognised the design immediately, but it took him a while to think his way around why Sherlock would have given him this. When he studied it more carefully, he realised that this was definitely not the same. This was a response form, for something that he hadn't sent off. Opening it, John studied it carefully before looking up at Sherlock in shock.
That was all that was needed as in the next moment their lips met in a heated, passionate kiss and the paper floated down to land on the coffee table.
Name : John Watson
Christmas Wish: Sherlock Holmes
Wish Granted
"Do you accept me John?" Sherlock whispered hours later in the aftermath as their breaths calmed.
"Abso-bloody-lutely." He lifted his head to place a lazy kiss on Sherlock's lips. "If you'll have me?"
"I think that's obvious." He ran a hand through John's hair. " Although, you know, it really was a good thing that I decided against wrapping myself up. It could have hindered our activities a little."
John smirked. "I enjoyed unwrapping you nonetheless." He ran a hand down Sherlock's face. "Now, Harry's coming over this morning, so maybe I ought to wrap you up again."
"Will you get me out to play again later?"
"Yes. A Sherlock is for life, not just for Christmas."
"We really need to stop charity workers from bombarding you."
"That one I got from the telly."
"I'll have to distract you from the telly then."
"I think…I'll have to let you.""
"Good."
A/N - Merry Christmas! I think this is ok to be K rated rather than T, but feel free to correct me if I'm wrong. I'm sorry for the abrupt ending, but I didn't know how to cut this off. I do not use a Beta.
R&R