AN: Hello everyone, I hope you enjoy this story! :) If you did give It a review, because I had this beta'd by the wonderful Melt Into the Air!
Written for The Gift Giving Extravaganza, and written for mew!
John looking through envelopes chuckles from his spot on the couch and picks up a letter to read.
"What's so funny?" Sherlock didn't pick up on the cues for why John laughed at the letter, before he even opened it.
"Looks like it's that time again," He stands and gives the pink letter to Sherlock. "Valentines from your fans."
The blank expression on Sherlock's face is humorous, but very confusing to watch. He looks at the envelope as if it's going to explode, and then it turns scathing, because of the blantant show of emotion, and rounding out the reation, is a sad flicker of something untold. He reads the floral smelling letter, out loud.
"Dear Detective Sherlock, I hope this letter reaches you in time for the holiday! It's a pleasure to hear about your adventures on John's blog, I read them every night. I don't have a Valentine this year, and I am hoping you don't either, maybe we can meet for coffee some time? All the love, Janice. xoxo"
It takes just two seconds for Sherlock to chuck the fanmail in the fire. "Does she honestly think I'm going to write back, to a complete stranger 'Oh yes, I love coffee! We've never met before ... can we express our love to each other on this holiday meant for relationships and candy companies.' I would never. I don't even like coffee."
John still smiling at the whole ordeal replies,"You might try being a little bit kind, sentiment isn't going to kill you. These are people who support you and give you publicity to take on bigger cases."
The reminder hangs stale in the air, because Sherlock decides silence is the best medicine for such statements of truth. He turns away eyeing his violin.
"I have about twenty notes for you, and I expect you to write a thank you to each one of them, alright, Sherlock?" John's expression of paternal sterness showing clearly to his flatmate.
"Be nice."
Sherlock stares at the handful.
"When I was a little boy, I thought Valentines Day was contrite and I'm sure everyone could tell. Mycroft once asked me to help the neighbor boy out by disecting his pet frog, by pulling a developing tumor out that was left by an infected abscess. I was only seven at the time, and frogs were not my forte, so I killed the poor creature. Mycroft gave me the heart for Valentines."
John stares at Sherlock with an expression of utter sadness.
"So the moral of the story is that you've never received any real Valentines?"
John crosses his arms over his chest and tries to keep a straight face. It isn't hard to believe that young Sherlock would not have had any admirers, or anyone brave enough to say so. He might have scared everyone off with his daunting attitude and abrasive intellect. It could have been that. It might have been his obsession with corpses.
He hears Sherlock grumbling under his breath about people who spend time on others who will never love them back, and he slams his door. Despite his attitiude John sees the small, grateful smile play on the Detective's lips.
He cannot help but feel like he was not supposed to see that moment. John wonders about his relationship with Sherlock as flatemates, and what obligations he needs to uphold. When he was a little boy himself, his mother used to buy him Valentines chocolates. He would wake up and see them next to his pillow. His mother must have felt obligated to buy him things, because he was too young to date. John wonders if he has the same obligation to Sherlock. Should he buy the man a new microscope, because no one else will?
The sadness overwhelms him and he decides that he should do some kind act for Sherlock. No one deserves to be ignored on Valentines Day.
An hour later around evening time, Sherlock emerges from his room with a stack of notes. He holds them out to a bemused John proudly. "I even used my quill pen."
"Well done, I'm not sure about the grey stationary, but that will do. In celebration," He adds with nervous haste, "I think we should eat out tonight."
Sherlock folds his arms in an obstinate manner. "We ate out yesterday, John. Today is Saturday which means it's pasta night."
Sherlock isn't going to go; John can already tell this will be hard.
"It's a holiday though. Don't you have one festive bone in your body?" John steps forward trying to appear taller and more serious.
Sherlock faces John square on and opens his mouth preparing for a spiel no one wanted to hear.
Saying swiftly,"Valentines Day is just a whimsical holiday designed to promote candy companies, and gain more money on their part. Which is really dense that no one notices because all the chocolate they're eating is providing their brains with extra dopamine and seratonin, tricking the brain into falling for their fallacy. They say it's a celebration of love, but it's just one more obligation for men to spend their money on a girl, who they will probably not marry. The resturants will be packed full everywhere, and I doubt we would find a spot among the young adults canoodling. Although their stays will be short lived, because they plan to leave early, and -"
"Okay! Okay! I get it, no need to keep on. I just think it would be nice. Sherlock please."
Sherlock turns away with confidence and picks up his violin, playing a lively tune. He feels as if he's won this argument.
"Did you know, that in Japan on Valentines Day, it's the woman's obligation to give out candy?"
He's effectively ignoring his flatmate. Who's standing there with his signiture sketical expression that he wears so well.
"Sherlock, I'm going out for dinner, if you want to join me then that's fine. I'm going to leave now."
John puts his coat on and walks out to the hallway and almost reaches the door, before a knock is heard. He opens the door to find none other than Mycroft. He waltzes right in, leaving his umbrella by the door.
"Good day, John. I see you're on your way out, I only need a quick word with Sherlock."
Cursing under his breath, John returns to the sitting room with Mycroft. He was never actually planning on leaving without Sherlock.
"Hello Sherlock, how have you been?"
He plays the national anthem on his violin. A favorite thing to do whenever he feels like annoying Mycroft.
"Oh spare me the niceties, what do you want?" He returns the violin to the side table, and stalks over to John who's facing Mycroft.
Mycroft doesn't look intimidated in the least while he says,"Just paying you a visit. It is Valentines Day after all, and I suspect this year will be the same as every year."
That was an underhanded dig at Sherlock's love life, and he knew it.
"I was under the impression that you visited me every year to assuage your own miserable day. Of course, staying In Buckingham Palace eating a heart shaped pizza can't be a better alternative."
John's not only tapping his foot in impatience, but he's checking his watch. The reservation he made for two will be thouroughly missed, if they keep it up any longer.
The smile on Mycroft's face turns sour with bitterness, nothing from his past could haunt him except for one thing: his brother. He knows just how to tweak his nerves, and here he is throwing it back in his face. All Mycroft wants is to be protective over Sherlock.
"I don't eat pizza anymore, you know that. I have been working out just a little bit more since the New Year. I made it my resolution. A bit banal to be honest, but I am not getting any younger." He pats his head which John can tell has a few grey hairs. "
Can I interest you in a cup of tea, and a game of chess?"
Mycroft asks in a pitiful voice aimed at his younger brother. He thinks that if Sherlock really is desperate for company he will take his offer.
Sherlock deliberates for a minute and then decides to eat his words in return for Mycroft's blatant surprise.
"Actually, I have plans. John and I are going out for dinner." Sherlock grabs his coat, and leads the way out the door in a brisk manner, ready to usher Mycroft out the door.
The face of clear defeat and abandonment are flickering in Mycroft's eyes. He smiles widely though and dips his head.
"Great. That's swell, I'm glad that someone can keep you company. You would know how sad it is to bake a cake for yourself."
With that final jab, a true accusation, He smiles tightly and deadpans,"It was nice seeing you, Mycroft."
They all file out into the streets of London particularly offended of each other, except John, he's happy that his plan to make Sherlock happy on Valentines Day can come true. Especially assuming everything Mycroft said was true, he made the right choice in treating Sherlock.