Author's note:
This fic was written as a Sectret Santa Fic for the -forum. My prompt was "comedy, maybe also romance, no opposite sex pairings". I've postulated an established, but still fresh relationship between John and Sherlock.
Extract from Sherlock Holmes' mental diary
24th November
Christmas is coming – again. Crime rate will drop, people will pretend to love each other, shops will be filled with annoying children and even more annoying parents. Loath it! Glad I can stay away from it like every other year.
1st December
My former assessment turned out to be wrong. Apparently, Christmas is essential when in a romantic relationship, as I have been informed just now. Will have to take part in several Christmas activities. John can be glad that my love for him is endless.
2nd December
221b has been "redecorated". Tried to be understanding and asked John very concernedly how a bomb could have exploded inside the box with Christmas decorations and if anybody got hurt. Got a slight slap on my cheek for it by Mrs Hudson. And a mince pie.
It took me two hours to find out that there is a Christmas tree underneath the heap of decorations next to the fireplace. Judging from the overall looks of the flat, I am forced to live inside a Lewis Carroll novel now.
3rd December
Humming Christmas melodies out of tune when your flatmate is around is highly disturbing. I tried to do a good deed by pointing that out. Unfortunately, John is not very open to my invaluable effort to improve his social skills. He just hums louder.
4th December
Found out the purpose of mistletoe at an otherwise boring crime scene today. Appreciated it. Appreciated it several times, in fact. John approved.
5th December
Apparently, buying 34 sprigs of mistletoe and arranging them in a pattern so they cover every spot in the flat is cheating. John laughed at me with this strange, touching laugh that does not hurt. Afterwards he appreciated my actions in several different rooms anyway. I could start to like Christmas.
6th December
Been forced to join Lestrade and his minions in a dispensable social gathering the day after tomorrow. Its only purpose seems to be mixing a lack of vocal skills with ridiculous poetry. Flatly refused when first asked, but John used unfair methods to persuade me of going with him.
Note to self: Don't allow him to discuss things like that while he cuddles my head.
7th December
Am not allowed to call it "dispensable social gathering". Must use term "Christmas Carol Singing" or will incur John's wrath. Spend the whole day saying sentences that include the phrase "Christmas Carol Singing", always increasing the amount of sarcasm in my voice. Again, John played unfair. How am I supposed to express my disdain with his tongue in my mouth?
8th December
Not sure if the dreaded "Christmas Carol Singing" has been a disaster or not. Hearing twelve people sing out of tune for nearly twenty minutes insulted my skilled musical ears. Commented on that after developing a severe headache. Used non-Christmas words to express everyone's level of incompetence. Donovan challenged me to prove that I could do better. I did. Everybody was silent after my solo performance of O Little Town of Bethlehem and O Come O Come Emmanuel. John was looking at me with a funny expression. Could have been admiration, mixed with heavy feelings. Or maybe he is developing a cold. Every one else was quiet for nearly three minutes afterwards. Don't quite understand why.
9th December
John wants us to write Christmas cards. I objected. He ignored me. Now he is writing a list with people he wants us to write to. I am supposed to do the same. My list so far: Peter Bryan, George Chapman, Thomas Neil Cream, John George Haigh. John is surprised that I am suddenly content with the task.
10th December
Dratted Internet. John found out that I've only written the names of famous serial killers on my list. Have to paint hearts and Christmas trees and little garlands on all fifty-eight cards he wrote now or will not be kissed until Christmas Eve.
11th December
Eggnog is the epitome of evil. Am not going to comment on it any further.
12th December
Apparently, watching Christmas films is another integral part of the Christmas season. Bargained hard with John until I was allowed to chose the films. Wonder if he will like "The Long Kiss Goodnight" better or "8 Women" or "Rocky IV".
13th December
Been informed that none of them made appropriate Christmas films. So, unfortunately, John was forced to snog me the entire time in order to prevent himself from watching them. I think they made wonderful Christmas films.
Also been informed that Christmas presents have been bought for me. Spend eight hours of deducing what they would be. John spent eight hours pretending that I'm being wrong all the time. Couldn't figure out when he was telling the truth and when not. He's amused now. I'm not.
14th December
Been informed by Molly that I'm supposed to buy John presents as well. Panicked.
15th December
Deduced several perfect presents for John after the panic attack. Feeling better now. Need to buy them soon.
16th December
Banned from Harvey Nichols. Apparently parents don't appreciate strangers telling their six year old daughter about the true meaning of Christmas (Roman Saturnalia, killing an innocent person at random as a scapegoat, and so on).
17th December
Banned from Fenwick's. It might not only be people's reservations against the pagan origins of Christmas, but also their objection against graphic descriptions of how the Roman scapegoat was killed.
18th December
Banned from Harrod's. Apparently parental wrath is inversely proportional to children's age.
19th December
Banned from Fortnum and Mason. This is getting ridiculous.
20th December
John tries to make me talk about why I get repeatedly banned from shops during Christmas time. Suspects a deeper reason than "because people are idiots". Made up a touching story about getting lost inside Fortnum and Masons as a child. He nearly bought it.
Note to self: Don't force out a tear when lying to John. He might not be a genius, but he has learned to tell faked tears from real ones.
21st December
John has set up several traps to make me "talk about my Christmas feelings". The first two ("Lull Sherlock with boring stories of other people" and "Talk about your own childhood first before imploring Sherlock's childhood further") were too easy to avoid. The third one ("Kiss Sherlock until his brain lacks oxygen") was trickier, but I succeeded in getting away of course. Nearly gave in to the fourth one ("The Puppy Dog Look"). Must be careful not to look at John's face for too long in the near future!
22nd December
John does not play fair. Completely underestimated his wickedness and was hence made to talk about Christmas Past. His method was mean but efficient. He hugged me without warning, dragged me down to the sofa and held me until I felt safe. That bugger. Felt so safe that I've told him about all childhood Christmases I could remember.
Apparently there is something wrong with our fireplace, for it must have been the smoke that made my eyes stingy. When I was finished talking, John was quiet for a long time. His eyes were also affected by the smoke from the fireplace it seemed.
Stayed on the sofa together for an unreasonable amount of time, reluctant to get out of John's arms. He will have a sore back tomorrow, but somehow it is all his own fault anyway.
23rd December
John is unusually quiet today and keeps cuddling me regularly. The former is a bit disturbing, but the later holds many benefits. It could be a trick to make me talk about sad childhood memories more often. If it is, it is working. I loath John's social competence.
24th December
I am in a relationship with the evil master of manipulation. I am not sure yet whether to admire his skills or to detest them. John baited me into a cab under the pretence of taking me to a brutal crime scene, knowing I could not resist that during the Christmas crime recession. Realized too late that we were heading towards Putney Vale Cemetery instead.
But not only did John bait me to Mummy's grave, he invited Mycroft in as well. In the beginning I only behaved because John was holding my hand. Didn't feel like talking. Of course, neither did Mycroft. After a while, John left us alone.
Then, Mycroft might or might not have placed his hand on my shoulder after some time, and I might or might not have accepted that. I also might or might not have leaned closer so we were practically standing arm in arm. Later, I might or might not have told him I was glad he was there with me, and he might or might not have said that he loved me.
25th December
Finally it's Christmas. John attached a colourful ribbon to my hair, claiming me "his most favourite present". I love him.
No need to elaborate on that day any further.