Mycroft's Gift To John...And Sherlock
Summary: It's Christmas at 221b Baker Street and John is about to open his gift from Mycroft. What is it about the present that has John blushing furiously and trying to hide it away from Sherlock? And will it bring about unexpected, yet delightful, results? S/J
Disclaimer: Don't own Sherlock, yadda yadda yadda, do you honestly think I'd be here if I did?
A/N: Dedicated to my dear, lovely Charlotte (reincarnatedwitch) Merry Christmas everybody! :D
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo
Dear John,
Merry Christmas and best wishes for the new year.
I know you'll appreciate the gift, even if it doesn't seem like it at first.
Sherlock will understand what I mean.
Yours,
Mycroft Holmes.
John Watson stared at the gift tag of the present which he was about to open, a frown creasing his brow. Sherlock Holmes, who was sat opposite him on the floor, noticed his delay in tearing the wrapping paper apart and raised an eyebrow in a silent question. John looked up at him with a confused look on his face.
"Your brother got me a present."
Sherlock smirked at him, the corner of his lip quirking upwards slightly in amusement.
"Well yes, he's a politician, John. Getting on the good side of everyone is his aim."
"But he seems so genuine with what he's written here."
Sherlock blinked his eyes slowly, in what was his version of an eye-roll.
"That's what he does, John. He manipulates people. You've seen him try."
John nodded slowly, the memory of his first meeting with Mycroft in the warehouse returning to the forefront of his mind. He looked down at the tag once more and ignored the warning signals that were currently going off everywhere in his body and tugged at the corner of the wrapping paper. Sherlock watched closely, a little more than intrigued as to what Mycroft had bought for his best friend. As John finally got the last of the wrapping paper off, he stared down at the gift, his cheeks turning bright red. Sherlock raised an eyebrow and leaned forward, but John quickly yanked the present out of his line of vision and pressed it to his chest, looking up at Sherlock in alarm.
"John?"
The ex-Army Doctor cleared his throat and promptly sat on the package where it would be, he believed, safe from the Consulting Detective's grasp. Sherlock analysed the look on John's face in just under two seconds – face flushed (aroused, embarrassed, angry, upset?), sweat starting to bead slightly on forehead (aroused, under pressure, embarrassed, angry?), evidence of erratic breathing and heart rate (aroused, embarrassed, angry?). Sherlock frowned and scooted closer to study John's reactions.
"John, what's the matter?"
John's face broke into a nervous grin and he shifted on the floor so as to better hide the present better from Sherlock's view. Obviously this was pointless as Sherlock had already seen a glimpse of it and, not helped by John's reaction, he was now extremely intrigued as to what it was.
"Nothing, Sherlock. Why d'you ask?"
Sherlock did another slow blink of his eyes and actually sighed this time. John was being obvious and he knew it. Why he refused to let Sherlock know what was causing him to be flustered, Sherlock did not know. They were best friends, there wasn't anything that they couldn't share, was there?
"John, something to do with Mycroft's gift has obviously bothered you. Why don't you just tell me?"
"It's not bothered me. I'm fine!"
Sherlock reached out to grab the package from underneath John and the good doctor spluttered, going deep red again.
"S-Sherlock!"
Sherlock huffed out an impatient sigh, flopping back down onto the floor, legs crossed.
"John, I fail to see what the problem is. If you'd just -"
Unfortunately, Sherlock didn't get to complete his sentence because, just then, John decided to bolt out of the room, taking the mysterious gift with him. Sherlock, reflex reactions quick as ever, rose from the floor, a dangling Christmas decoration getting caught in his hair. He swatted at it to move it out of the way and followed John smoothly, gliding into the kitchen where his flatmate had escaped to. He spotted him across the room, on the other side of the kitchen table, bending down into one of the lower cupboards. Sherlock tilted his head to the side, considering his options. He went with the first that came to his mind. Sprinting around the table, he managed to catch John off guard, grabbing him by the shoulders and spinning him around, but he must have been at least a little prepared to have to face Sherlock, because he had the present pinned to his chest again so that the dark haired man couldn't see it. All he had access to look at was the box, which was surprisingly not as expensive-looking as Sherlock had expected from Mycroft. This just intrigued him even more, as did John's stubborn refusal to let Sherlock see it.
"Sherlock, what are you doing?!"
Ignoring John's question completely, Sherlock shook John's shoulders.
"John, something is definitely wrong. You've acted strange ever since you opened Mycroft's present. Just let me see it! What do you think I could possibly do or say that could make things worse?"
John looked down, signalling his defeat. He sighed and held out the present to Sherlock, still with only the box facing him. Sherlock looked at it steadily and then back up at John.
"I, er.. If you really don't want me to know, it's alright, John. I don't want to make you uncomfortable."
John looked up, his face now only a light pink shade, and smiled shyly at Sherlock.
"It's fine. Take a look."
Sherlock slowly reached out and took the gift, locking eyes with John as he turned it over to take a proper look. Finally he let his gaze drop and he found himself mentally and physically frozen for a moment. Laid out in the red box was a seemingly-innocent plain, white shirt. But then his eyes were drawn to the red lettering on the front of it. How could they not? It was made so that it was the first thing you looked at when you laid eyes on the shirt. The caption was what had Sherlock's mind suddenly whirring at full speed again, though. It read; 'I Heart Consulting Detectives', with the image of a cartoon heart in place of the word. Sherlock felt his heart speed up by around ten more beats a minute and he finally managed to pull his gaze away from the gift to study John's face. It seemed that John had been doing the same to him whilst he'd been busy staring at John's present and now he wanted to know what John saw in the expression on his face.
"What do you think?"
Sherlock found himself smirking at John's question and it took a while for his mind to catch up with his body for once and supply him with the reason as to why he was doing so. When it came to him, he didn't find it surprising – he'd had a suspicion for some time as to what changes were coming over him and he'd done some research into the subject for him to come to a conclusion. He was attracted to John, and had been for quite some time. It was impossible to divulge the specific time, as all of his emotions and so on seemed to just merge into one when it came to John. But this seemed the perfect opportunity to experiment with just how much he liked his best friend and flatmate.
"I like it."
Sherlock let a devilish grin slip onto his face and he locked his gaze with John's. Out of the corner of his eye he saw John gulp, his adam's apple bobbing in his throat and it just made Sherlock's smile grow wider. John dropped his own gaze away from Sherlock's, making sure to look anywhere but at him. Yet more conclusive evidence to back Sherlock's other hypothesis – John was also attracted to him. Sherlock took a step closer, delighting in the fact that John flinched backwards into the counter and he leaned in slightly, so he was a few inches away from John's face.
"Sher-"
"I like it very much. Don't you?"
John looked down at his feet, hands tugging at the frayed material of his jumper sleeves. Then, mustering up some of his soldier's courage, he looked back up and met Sherlock's steady gaze.
"It depends."
"On what?"
"Whether it gets me the desired outcome or not."
Sherlock's face lit up brightly, eyes glazing over as he watched John's face, which was starting to match his own expression, slowly but surely. Sherlock unconsciously leaned forwards again, leaving a few centimetres between his and John's noses, so they were undoubtedly breathing each other's air.
"And what would be your desired outcome in this situation, Dr Watson?"
John licked his lips in that mysterious signal he used so very often. It should have been simple, but Sherlock was mystified by it. He did it all the time, so the taller man had never had a chance to actually pinpoint the reason for the action. This time was no different either, as there was little to no space between the two men, and so when John decided to try and wet his lips, his tongue came into contact with something other than the intended part of his anatomy. Sherlock's mind ground to a halt when he felt John's soft, hot, wet tongue glide across his bottom lip lightly and his eyes flashed a brilliant silver, holding John captive in that moment as he also realised what he'd done. He quickly retracted the offending tongue and zipped his lips tight shut again, pressing them together into a straight line. Sherlock's whole body was thrumming with an energy he'd never known and he was loving it. Slowly, carefully, he reached out a hand to latch onto John's waist, steadying him and firmly keeping him in place should he feel the need to run. Though his thoughts were currently in places that really shouldn't have been, he was focused enough to feel John practically shaking underneath his hand. He placed the present on the table behind him and then turned back to press closer to John, his other hand finding the other side of John's waist. He saw John take a deep breath and he knew that he was steeling himself to say something that would halt their progress – Sherlock wasn't having any of that. Lowering his head, he pressed his lips firmly to John's, feeling a spark jolt right down to his toes and he could have moaned right there and then. But he wouldn't scare John off, not when things were going so well already. He just let that touch linger for a moment, allowing John to test his own reaction. He found himself smiling into the kiss when he felt John's hands come up to rest either side of his face and his lips moved against his own, opening up to him. Using every ounce of restraint he possessed, Sherlock pulled back, smirking at John's slightly dazed face, eyes closed and lips still parted. When he finally looked at Sherlock, the dark haired man tipped his chin up with a finger.
"Merry Christmas, John. Now how about you try that shirt on?"
Sherlock grabbed the present from behind him and prised the white t-shirt from out of the box, holding it delicately between his fingers and held it up against John's chest.
"I think it'll look exquisite when it's on."
Fin.