What Do You Get Your Blogger?
Sherlock was sat in his armchair, cross-legged with his laptop balancing in his lap. He had been staring at it intently for some time and John began to wonder if he had retreated to his mind palace. John looked at the book in his lap and sighed as he reread the same sentence for the 5th time.
He was bored of reading, his armchair felt lumpy and the company wasn't exactly riveting. Briefly the notion to throw the book at the detective seemed very appealing but John decided against it. It was Christmas Eve after all, a black eye wouldn't go with the decorations. He searched the flat with his eyes, looking for something, anything to ease the passing of time. The clock ticked endlessly, heading towards 10pm, eventually he came back to the detectives face. He pondered for a moment then remembered that he was wearing a Christmas jumper, one that Sherlock hated the most because it had small bells adorning the snowman design. Bells that made annoying little tinkling noises.
He looked from the design to the detective and back again a few times, all was clear. He licked his lips and slowly moved his left hand up to one of the bells, prepared to give it a flick.
"Don't." Sherlock's eyes hadn't moved from the screen.
Tinkle
John gave a half smile, keeping his eyes on the book. When he raised them, Sherlock's gaze caught his. Like normal his face was impassive, a mask of, well nothing. John's eyebrows raised in mirth and he gave a small shrug,
"What?" He questioned.
"Mm" was the reply, as the detective turned his attention back to the laptop.
John sighed loudly. "What is it?" Sherlock asked calmly.
"It's Christmas Eve Sherlock, for God's sake."
"And?"
"And? And here we are, sitting in silence, we should be enjoying ourselves." Irritation was clear in his tone, or he hoped it was.
"You want to do something, Doctor?"
"Yes! Anything."
"Anything?" Sherlock tilted his head slightly to the left, his eyes studying John's features. John regretted what he'd said instantly but remained stubborn and nodded all the same. The laptop got shut quickly, and in a blink the detective was standing over him.
"Right. You want to do something? Fine. Go to St. Bart's, if you leave now you will catch Molly before she packs up for the night. Tell her to give you the Jane Doe report"
John stood and raised his hands "no, no I meant something festive Sherlock." He pleaded but the taller man continued regardless,
"Once you have that I want you to run tests, multiple ones. We must find out where she came from, you know the usual places to look. Skin, hair and shoes. If you're unsure how to do the tests or don't know how to read the results, ask Molly. I'm sure she won't mind staying to help." He finished with a small smile which reminded John very much of Mycroft.
"I.. Wait, you're not coming with me?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"I have more important things to do, besides it was you who wanted to 'do something' remember?"
"More important things" John echoed then he narrowed his eyes. "You trust me to do tests for a case?"
"Mm" Sherlock nodded widening his eyes for effect.
"Really..?"
"Yes! No go or you won't catch Miss Hooper." Sherlock started shooing him towards the door. John shrugged to himself and obliged. At least Molly would be better company he thought drily.
Sherlock watched him leave, and listened for the front door to close. He dashed to the window to watch his companion walk away and hail a cab. Once satisfied he walked quickly to his own bedroom. There under the bed, where he'd left it were John's Christmas presents. John would be away for a few hours so that gave him plenty of time to prepare. He had spent time thinking of what to get his companion. John had not given any hints as to what he would like and Sherlock wasn't going to ask. He wanted it to be meaningful but he had baulked at the idea, at a loss he had gone with practical instead. Secretly he was pleased with the result.
He went downstairs and knocked on the door of 221a, after borrowing wrapping supplies and swearing Mrs. Hudson to secrecy, he was quickly back in the flat. He cleared one end of the kitchen table with a hasty brush of his arm. A beaker fell and smashed but he paid it no attention. He hadn't had much practice at wrapping presents but how hard could it be? Some 20 minutes later Mrs. Hudson announced herself with a familiar "hoo hoo"
Sherlock was tapping one foot angrily and frowning at a half wrapped parcel on the table. She noticed that his jacket had been flung into the living room and was crumpled on the floor. She tutted and instinctively went to gather it up, when she looked closer at Sherlock she also noticed that his hair was more wild than usual, even as that thought entered her mind, the reason became apparent as Sherlock reached up and ruffled it in an annoyed way.
"How could something so simple be so difficult to achieve?!" Sherlock asked out loud to no one in particular. Mrs. Hudson busied around him picking up discarded scrunched up pieces of wrapping paper. "Why didn't I just get it wrapped in the store? The girl offered. Why didn't I listen?" Sherlock berated himself then he remembered why.
'People like to wrap things themselves Sherlock, it shows they care.' John had told him once, this he did not repeat out loud however. Meanwhile Mrs. Hudson's eyes had fallen on the broken glass from the beaker.
"Sherlock Holmes. If I had a pound for every time I've had to clean up after you." She gave him a disapproving look as he continued looking at the parcel with some disgust. With a shake of her head she fetched a dustpan and brush from under the sink.
"I'll do it." He said brightly and took the dustpan from her hands. As he knelt down to clean, she looked at his work.
"Oh this won't do, do you want me to help?" Sherlock seemed pleased that she had offered and nodded from under the table. Once the glass was cleared she set about wrapping one of the presents, he watched her every move. The end result was a perfect example of a present, she smile at him and reached for the other.
"No, I want to try." He said gently. His efforts this time had improved greatly and Mrs. Hudson beamed at him proudly.
"See? Just takes a bit of practice is all!" She patted his arm.
"Thank you Mrs. Hudson."
"What would you do without me?" She called as she started down the stairs, Sherlock's reply was only a grin.
It was much later when John finally returned looking tired but pleased. "Long way from home, our victim." he announced triumphantly.
"Hmm? Oh, yes." Sherlock looked at him expectantly.
"Newcastle-Upon-Tyne apparently, found that out from a piece of pollen, trapped in her hair."
"Thought so. Good work John, very good." Sherlock praised him with a smile John decided it best to ignore the 'thought so' part, he sat down heavily in his armchair and yawned.
"Anything interesting happen while I was gone?" He inquired.
"Not much." Sherlock said, almost too quickly.
"Right well, it's gone 2am and I need a well deserved sleep." John got up stiffly and headed for the door.
"Goodnight John, and happy Christmas."
"Merry Christmas to you as well Sherlock. Don't stay up too long, or Santa won't come." This caused an eye roll followed by a chuckle.
When John opened his eyes it was still dark outside his window and he wanted to go back to sleep, however on closer inspection of his clock it was 8am and past time he was out of bed. He threw on a dressing gown and plodded downstairs. Sherlock himself didn't look long awake; he was sat on the sofa, his hair a shaggy mess and his eyes were slightly crusted with sleep. "Did you actually sleep last night?" John asked him surprised, Sherlock nodded, wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his blue dressing gown.
"I've always been able to sleep on Christmas Eve. Must come from when I was a child, falling asleep as quickly as possible so the morning would arrive sooner." He shook his head at the childish logic, yet the tradition had strangely remained. John smiled and put the kettle on.
"As a child I always waited up for as long as I could, hoping to catch Santa out. Thinking that if I caught him I would make him give me extra toys to keep my silence."
"That is quite the blackmail." There was a pause then both men started to laugh. Once the kettle was boiled and the tea was made John handed one cup to Sherlock then raised his,
"Here's to childhood." They both laughed again. They drank in silence for a while then John noticed two packages under the tree. "Whose are they?" He asked pointing.
"Why don't you look?" Sherlock smiled at him. John got up to fetch them.
To John.
The labels read. He gave Sherlock a querying look, but the face he saw gave nothing away. He opened the first, a smaller one. It was a bottle of Old Spice, his favourite aftershave. He smiled at it,
"How did you know I was out? Actually, I don't even want to know." He set about the second one, beneath the wrapping was a box, he lifted the lid to find a luxuriant jumper. Just from looking he could tell it was expensive, he reached out and touched it to find it incredibly soft. It was light blue and the stitch created a diamond pattern. He looked up at Sherlock and grinned, he found his expression mirrored.
"Thank you, it's really nice. Really very nice. You shouldn't have worried about it. Oh I got you something, hold on." He got up and disappeared into his bedroom, quickly returning with a present. He handed it over and Sherlock opened his mouth but John stopped him.
"Ah! No deductions, just open it." He did as he was told and pulled the wrapping paper off. John watched his face as his eyes scanned the item. He then held it out in front of him,
"Just as I'd feared." It was a Christmas jumper lavishly decorated with sequins and fluffy bits, depicting Rudolf. John couldn't stop himself from laughing.
That year was the first and only time anyone ever saw Sherlock Holmes wearing a Christmas jumper.
Merry Christmas everyone!