Joy to the World
It was the afternoon of Christmas Eve and John lay on the sofa, glowering at the TV. There was nothing interesting on and the news was flooded with almost hysterical reports about the extreme snow they had this year (and the crazy last-minute gift shoppers, can't forget those). Under normal circumstances Sherlock and he would now long be at the cottage in Sussex where they had spent the last four Christmases. But this year a stupid car accident had upset their plans and John had spent the last week in hospital. He had been released yesterday and Sherlock really was doing his best to be attentive and helpful (and bloody hell, did that need some getting used to). Sherlock had therefore been adamant that they would not risk the drive to the cottage, as some of the smaller roads were extremely bumpy and he didn't want to aggravate John's injuries (three cracked ribs, an admittedly serious concussion and multiple contusions – but he'd had worse). Also, the weather conditions in Sussex were reported to be even worse than in London.
So John had resigned himself to staying at 221b this year. It wasn't that he didn't love their flat, but the cottage was their little Christmas tradition since Sherlock's return four years ago. They'd got engaged at the cottage last year and it would've been perfect to spend their first Christmas as husbands there as well. At least they had snow in London, too, which made it quieter outside. Perhaps they'd go on a short walk through the park later, or at least tomorrow. He wanted to savour the rather rare occurrence of London covered in thick snow.
On the bright side, Sherlock had promised that they'd spend John's birthday at the cottage and that surely would be a lovely holiday as well, for once seeing it all in early spring. The other plus was Sherlock taking care of John and not the other way round. Right now Sherlock brought over tea from the kitchen.
"Thank you," John said, sitting up and taking his mug from Sherlock. He took a sip and yes, perfect as always. Sherlock really should make tea more often, he always made it exactly right. John would have to think of something as an incentive.
After drinking their tea and watching a bit of telly (it had taken some time until they'd found something that Sherlock would deign to watch) Sherlock fetched his violin and played a rather cheerful carol. John was thankful that Sherlock tried to lighten his mood a bit and didn't play one of the slower and more solemn Christmas songs.
The music was interrupted by the door-bell. They heard Mrs Hudson open the door and make small talk with the visitor.
Sherlock put his violin away and said, "That'll be Lestrade. I actually expected him an hour earlier." Upon John's questioning glance he explained, "It's the first Christmas since my return that we're spending in London. He sent a text every year so far, so his visit was a logical conclusion."
They greeted Lestrade when he entered and John offered him some tea as well.
"Thank you, but I actually can't stay. I still have some tidying up to do before the kids come tomorrow. Just wanted to give you your presents, as some kind of thank you for all the times you help us and we don't pay you." He handed John a thin envelope and a thicker package to Sherlock.
"Thanks. Are we allowed to open them early while you're still here?" John asked, turning the envelope in his hands.
"Of course not. Opening presents is only allowed on Christmas Day. But I'm sure Sherlock can deduce them anyway." Lestrade grinned.
Sherlock snorted. "You didn't even try to make it difficult! A little imagination now and then wouldn't go amiss, but I know how loathe you Yarders are to mentally stretch yourselves."
Lestrade rolled his eyes. "Charming as ever, Sherlock. How did I survive the last Christmas holidays without you? Well then, go on and tell John what I got for you two."
"My present is completely obvious. I should feel insulted. It's cold cases, of which the Yard has thousands, as we all know, because no one there seems to be able to actually think once in a while and –"
"Yes, Sherlock, we're all idiots, I know. That's why we have you," Lestrade interrupted with a long-suffering sigh. John chuckled. "Why don't you tell John what he can look forward to?"
Sherlock grabbed the envelope from John with an impatient noise and looked at it intently. Then he huffed a laugh. "Well, as I see it, it's just as much a present for me as it is for you, John. It's a gift certificate for that adult shop on Walkers Court in Soho. Lestrade seems to think us quite adventurous. Or that our sex life needs improvement."
John coughed awkwardly. "What- Greg, really?!" Of all the things he'd expected, that definitely hadn't been one of them. From Mrs Hudson – yes, he wouldn't have been surprised that much, but Greg? So far he had more or less ignored their relationship, except for a short "Congrats" right at the beginning (accompanied by a smug grin, and John had wondered whether the rumours about an NSY betting pool were true after all) and his best man duties this year.
"It's only sensible. You've been a couple for quite some time now. It's bound to get a bit less exciting in bed, right? And I thought it's better than Sherlock bringing a lizard to bed."
"That was one time and it had escaped from an experiment! It had nothing to do with –"
"Yes, thanks, Greg, for bringing that up again. I had successfully managed to block out that particular event," John groaned.
Lestrade only grinned and leaned against the door jamb. "Well, it's valid for two years. I'm sure you'll find something to buy there."
Sherlock let himself fall down next to John on the sofa, arms crossed over his chest in a sulk. Lestrade really shouldn't have brought up the lizard incident. John didn't know whether he should be embarrassed or giggling stupidly.
"Anyway, I must be off, tidying and all that! Have fun with your presents. And in the unlikely case you do get bored you can always invite me." That said, Lestrade left, a big grin on his face.
John stared after him. "Sherlock, was he serious?"
Sherlock was conspicuously silent. "Sherlock!"
"Why are you asking me? How should I know? You're the one who meets him at the pub at least once a month and talks about God knows what, aside from that stupid lizard experiment. Wouldn't you know better than I?"
"You have known him longer."
"But this is not my area."
"Pub meetings?"
"Don't be deliberately obtuse. Socialising. Friendship."
John's gaze softened. "You're doing actually pretty well on the friendship front, you know. And your relationship skills aren't half bad, either. I wouldn't want this with you if you didn't get most of it right."
He kissed Sherlock, who quickly relaxed and leaned against him. Just a short-term sulk then.
They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, until Sherlock murmured, "John?"
"Hm?"
"You're content with what we have, right? You're happy?"
John nuzzled Sherlock's hair. "Completely. I told you once that you're stuck with me and you can hold me to that. You're wonderful."
Sherlock smiled and linked his right hand with John's left. "And you are still not boring. It's… good." After a moment's pause he turned his head to look John in the eye, a determined expression on his face. "We'll get Lestrade back for that."
John laughed. "Of course we will."
AN: Thanks a lot to my beta swissmarg for the quick work - I was so late with this story, it was embarrassing. All mistakes still remaining are my own. This is the last fic written for the "Sherlock" xmas-xchange on Livejournal. Concrit is very much appreciated, don't be shy. :)