AN: Hey guys! I'm writing three separate ficlets for Doctor Who, Supernatural, and Sherlock. If you haven't already, please read my other stories. Enjoy, and Merry Christmas!
Christmas in 221B
"Joooooooohhhhhhnnnnnn…." groans Sherlock from the couch. He was still clothed in his dressing gown and pajamas, although he didn't sleep. "Must we participate in such petty holidays?" John sighs and hands the consulting detective a strong cup of tea. "Yes, Sherlock. It is customary to celebrate Christmas. Plus, everyone from the Yard's coming over. It is Jesus's birthday after all." "Well, technically, Jesus was born…." John tunes out the rest of the long explanation and opts to log on to his computer, sending out an evite to anyone who would endure Sherlock's attitude for one night.
"But really, John, who is going to come. No one likes me." Sherlock said it nonchalantly, but John could sense a slight bitterness and (though nearly nonexistent) sadness in his tone. John sighs and checks his computer. "Lestrade and Molly already accepted the invite. Mrs. Hudson will be here."
"Yes, but they all tolerate me, that's no different…" he trailed away. John suddenly realized what he wanted, what Sherlock was yearning for. He smirks slightly at the thought. "You… you want Irene here, don't you? You like her." Sherlocks pale face grew as white as snow. "No," he gritted his teeth. "Yea, yea you do!" John was getting a kick out of this. "No. I. Don't." Sherlock stood up and quickly left the room, grumbling.
He sighs, then grins. Perfect distraction to find Sherlock's gift in the mess that was John's room.
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John was putting the finishing touches on the mantelpiece, some twinkling lights, when Sherlock returned, clothed in his purple silk shirt and black slacks, his hair slightly flattened. "Oh, hey! I have something for you," John starts to reach for something when Sherlock replies. "Yes, I do also."
"Oh." John was surprised, he didn't believe that Sherlock would get him anything. Sherlock quickly presses something into John's palm. When he opens it up, he smiles. It is a retractable magnifying glass like Sherlock's. John smiles at Sherlock. "Wow, Sherlock… Thank you so much."
"Your deduction skills have greatly improved," Sherlock says hesitantly. "I felt like it would be necessary for you to possess a magnifying glass." John sets down the small rectangle and presses the box he had been holding into Sherlock's chest until he grabbed it. "I hope you like it… It was kind of a last minute decision. Yours was getting kind of beat up," John scratches the back of his head. Sherlock, with an unknown finesse, gently unwraps the paper lining the box and gasps as the lid lifts up. It was a new scarf in a deep, gorgeous blue. John looks at Sherlock expectantly, waiting for some kind of expression on his face. The smallest of smiles touches Sherlock's lips. "John, I-... I don't know what to say. No one's ever…" John could swear he saw a shine in Sherlock's eyes, threatening tears, before he sniffed and became his usual aloof self. "Thank you very much, I will finish here if you would like to go get ready."
"Umm, sure Sherlock." John leaves the room, but stays in the hallway for a minute. Sherlock sniffles once again and hugs the scarf to his chest, smiling like a child. John has never seen him so happy, and as he goes to get ready, he knows that nothing can ruin this night.
