Disclaimer: I don't own anything!
AN: I felt a little Christmassy and I've had this idea niggling at the back of my mind palace for a little while so I thought I'd share it with you! I hope you enjoy it and please review!
John barged through the front door to 221B, clutching more bags than he could handle in his hands. He dragged himself up the flight of stairs to the living room, tired but a content smile on his face. The bags dropped to the floor, John made his way into the kitchen, moved a few rogue jars of body parts from the counter and switched the kettle on to make a mug of tea.
"Sherlock!" He shouted, his voice echoing around the flat. There was no reply, Sherlock must have gone out. The kettle whistled as it boiled and John poured the water into his favourite mug and took out the teabag, pouring in a dash of milk. He made his way through to sit on his chair after grabbing a few digestives. His body sank into the plush, warm material and he let out a contented sigh as the cushions moulded perfectly into the contours of his aching back. He stared out the window absent minded as he sipped at the light brown liquid, dunking a biscuit into it every so often. The weather outside was perfect for the time of year. The winter air was cold and crisp; John could see the people on the street breathing out dragon's breaths. A thin layer of off white snow covered the ground and buildings, creating a happy atmosphere in general, while the few that disapproved of the conditions grumbled quietly to themselves. The sky was covered with a blanket of grey clouds, and it was already getting dark. At three o'clock. Gosh, it really was Christmas time.
The lock on the door clicked as Sherlock let himself in. He went through his usual routine of hanging up his trench coat and flicking the kettle on before walking over to sit on the sofa. He stared at John for a minute or so before the sandy haired man looked up at him, rolling his eyes.
"Are you gonna say anything then? Or are you just going to sit there and stare at me?"
"John, what are you doing?" Sherlock queried, his eyebrows furrowed as he thought.
"Yeah, hi to you too. I thought you were some sort of genius or something? I'm sure you can tell that I'm wrapping presents."
"Obviously, John. I'm not an idiot." John shot him a 'really?' look which made Sherlock frown momentarily before he continued. "Anyway, why are you wrapping presents?"
"If you haven't noticed yet, it's Christmas time. I went Christmas shopping today, fancy helping me wrap?" The pale man's face screwed up with disgust.
"Christmas!" He spat.
"Let me rephrase that. You're going to help me wrap these presents. You're going to help with the tree too, and decorating the flat."
"Decorations, John?! Really?"
"Yes, Sherlock. You owe me, you only disappeared for three years." John peered into Sherlock's eyes, a pleading look only just noticeable in his eyes. Sherlock grunted as he gave in, knowing that John wouldn't let him get out of this no matter how hard he tried to avoid it. John smiled widely at his best friend's surrender and handed him a roll of gold ribbon and a pair of scissors.
"Okay, Sherlock, I want you to tie the ribbon around the presents that I hand you, okay? You know how to tie ribbon don't you?" Sherlock darted his eyes away from John, making it easier to lie to him.
"I'll figure it out, I guess."
"You better, I want these wrapped nicely."
The next half hour was whiled away by the sounds of scissors cutting through the thin wrapping paper, sellotape being torn from the roll and grunts of frustration coming from beneath the mess of black hair as Sherlock struggled with the delicate ribbon, wrapping and tangling it round the parcels. John chuckled to himself as he watched his genius trying and failing with the ribbon, finally deciding that it might be best to help him.
He lay down the present he was wrapping after sticking a label with 'Greg Lestrade' on it and took the roll of ribbon from Sherlock's twitching hand.
"Look, Sherlock. Like this." John tied the gold stream of ribbon around the cuboids form delicately and slowly, allowing Sherlock to take in what he was doing and so that he was sure to remember the technique after he let him take over again. Once Sherlock got the hang of it, the wrapping was over with in the blink of an eye, leaving a pile of presents neatly stacked up on the floor, all ready to be handed out.
"Okay, I helped you. I'm going to go and experiment on some eyes now," Sherlock stood up, stretching his long legs out and taking an elegant step past John.
"Oh no you don't. You're helping me with the tree now." John smiled as he heard the sigh that he was waiting for.
"Now? John, why?"
"Because, Sherlock. I want to get all this Christmas lark done today."
"That makes sense, I guess. Fine, at long as we get it over with soon."
John climbed the stairs up to his room two at a time and hurried over to his wardrobe. He swung the doors open and wrapped his arms around a large box at the back, dragging it out of the closet and along the floor to the stairs. He called Sherlock to the landing and slid the box containing the tree down the stairs, his best friend barely managing to catch it at the bottom. He carried it into the living room while John disappeared back into his room to gather the decorations. A few minutes later he shuffled back into the living room with two boxes of fairy lights, a bag of baubles and several wraps of tinsel in his arms. The taller man sighed again before taking some of the items from John's arms, smiling warmly at him. John's cheeks blushed pink as he smiled back, his mind happy that it had earned a smile, a genuine smile from his friend.
The sandy haired man pulled out the instructions from the box while Sherlock sorted out each layer of branches into the right piles.
"Okay, orange first." Sherlock nodded, picking up half of the branches with little orange tags on their hooks and handed them to John. They two men hooked the branches into their slots and spread out the branches, attempting to make the tree look as realistic as possible. They did this with the next set of branches, and the next, the fake pine needles scattering the area beneath the Christmas tree as they sorted every branch. Sherlock was completely engrossed in the task at hand, his eyes twinkling happily, something that John had least expected from the sociopath. He walked over to Sherlock's chair and rummaged through one of the larger bags and pulled something out of it. He stood behind the curly haired man giggling as he pushed a red Santa hat onto his hair and quickly pulling his phone from his pocket to snap a photo.
"John! I am not wearing this ridiculous thing." He threw the hat to the floor, huffing momentarily before returning to winding the lights through the tree branches. John picked up the hat again and pushed it back on Sherlock's head.
"Yes you are, love. And I'm keeping the picture too, before you begin to protest." Sherlock ignored John's comment, making a beeline to question the one word that he'd never heard his assistant use before… Well, at least not when addressing him.
"What did you just call me?" He asked.
"Nothing. Sherlock, I called you Sherlock." John gulped, immediately regretting letting that word slip out of his mouth.
"No you didn't, you called me 'love'. Don't try and act like you didn't, my hearing is perfectly adequate. It's rather good actually."
"Yes.. I called you love. Problem?"
"No. No. None at all."
"Good. That's good."
"Would you stop being embarrassed and come over here and help me finish decorating the tree? I shall make you a mug of hot chocolate after we're done. Maybe we can even watch crap telly." A smile plastered John's face as he knelt down next to Sherlock and started fitting tinsel into the spaces above and below the lights that Sherlock was fitting precisely. He worked his way round the tree, ducking down and shooting up to his feet, checking that the lights were in the correct place, tweaking the placing of the tinsel until everything was perfect. Meanwhile John purposely got in his way, walking around, hanging red and silver baubles from the branches and stretching upwards to try and get the tree topper on.
"Let me help you with that. It seems you are a little too short." Sherlock smirked, and took the star from John's hand, his own lingering just that little bit too long on his friend's warm skin. He reached up and easily propped the topper onto the top branch, smiling at their work. He walked over to the plug and switched the lights on. They flashed the colours of the rainbow, the light reflecting off the baubles, making the whole room glow warmly.
"I guess it's about time you made me that cuppa," John reminded him.
"Yes, I guess it is. I- if you'd just let me try something first," Sherlock turned to face the sandy haired man who was looking up at him, a hopeful glint in his eyes. He bowed his head, wrapping his suit clad arms around John's waist and moved in closer to his face. Their noses were touching, foreheads pressed together and Sherlock could feel John's warm breath against his face. He moved in slowly, pressing his lips against John's, moving them carefully as he spilled his heart into this kiss. John moved his lips in harmony with Sherlock's, moaning softly as his bottom lip was gently nibbled at before the cold air hit them again as Sherlock pulled away.
"Thank you," He whispered as he moved away, walking to the kitchen and filling up the kettle.
"Sherlock."
"John?"
"Thank you. I- I don't know. Just, thanks." Sherlock looked confused, but didn't say anything, instead just walking back over to his John and pulling him in for a hug, their bodies pressed against one another.
Sherlock made John's hot chocolate and placed it on the coffee table beside John's chair as the smaller man sat down.
"Come 'ere," John said, grinning up at Sherlock and pulling him into the small space left on the armchair. He pressed a chaste kiss to the tip of his nose and whispered into his ear.
"I love you, Sherlock Holmes."
"I love you also, John. Always and forever."