As its Christmas I've had the sudden urge to write something festive.
So here, enjoy reading about the stressful Christmas that (probably) usually happens at 221B.
"Sherlock, have you wrapped Mycroft's presents?!"
John called from the kitchen.
Sherlock didn't answer and instead continued watching TV, blanking out John entirely.
"Sherlock!"
His friend yelled, stomping over from the table that was covered in wrapping paper and varied products.
"What? What is it?!"
The detective complained, looking up from the TV to see his friend glaring down at him.
"Have you wrapped Mycroft's presents?"
John repeated, but this time through gritted teeth.
"No,"
Sherlock answered calmly.
"In fact, I haven't brought him anything."
"Why not?!"
John huffed, tapping his foot impatiently as he thought about how many punches it would take to break Sherlock's nose.
"You know I never buy anyone presents apart from you and Mary, and that's only because Mary forces me to!"
The detective whined, wrapping his long coat tighter around him and turning his coat collar up.
John let out an impatient breath before walking back into the kitchen in defeat. He'd known Sherlock for years and in that time he'd learnt one thing, that if Sherlock didn't want to do something, he wouldn't do it.
"Why do I put up with this!"
John grumbled to himself while he continued wrapping presents for Greg, Molly and Mrs. Hudson.
The door to the apartment opened and suddenly Mary walked in. John's face lit up as his wife walked over and kissed him chastely on the lips.
"Hey Sherlock,"
The blonde woman called over to the detective who mumbled something in reply which wasn't quite audible enough for John or Mary to hear.
"Why is he in a strop?"
She asked, looking up at John who wrapped his arms around her.
"When is he not?"
John mumbled.
Mary grinned and kissed him again before walking over to the table.
"Need any help wrapping?"
She asked, beginning to put bows on the freshly wrapped gifts.
"Yeah, thanks."
John said, walking over to stand next to her before wrapping up the remaining gift choices.
After a few more minutes of tiring wrapping, John sat down in his armchair, looking over to Sherlock, who was now composing a piece on his violin.
The blogger closed his eyes on the relaxing piece, which he could now recognise as 'White Christmas'.
John couldn't remember when he fell asleep but he soon woke up, looking directly up at the clock. It was 5:54 in the afternoon?! Him and Sherlock were meant to be at Mycroft's by 6:20!
"Damn it!"
The doctor cursed, practically leaping out of the chair.
He looked around but couldn't find Sherlock anywhere.
"Sherlock-?"
He called.
"Over here John,"
A deep voice spoke. John turned to see Sherlock at the door, dressed smartly. Surprisingly, he seemed ready to go.
"You seemed to be sleeping so I didn't want to wake you up, and Mary left about an hour ago in case you were wondering."
The detective explained before John could ask.
The shorter man just inhaled a shaky breath, anger boiling in his stomach.
"Why the hell didn't you wake me up, we're going to be late now!"
The blogger yelled, ignoring the topic of Mary completely before running up the stairs and into his room and wasting no time in rummaging around for some clothes.
John casually cursed himself and Sherlock while he was dressing. They'd never been late before…well that was actually a debatable topic.
Once he was ready, John ran downstairs, grabbed Sherlock by the hand and rushed out of the apartment, not bothering to say goodbye to Mrs. Hudson who seemed fairly flustered when the two men darted out the door.
John could tell they were both going to get an earful from Mycroft, but maybe it would be entertaining.
"Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year,"
John mumbled to himself scornfully as the taxi driver drove through the busy streets of London.