First Christmas in 221B
It was the first time Sherlock was going to have to celebrate Christmas, with more people than just Mrs. Hudson, since he had been celebrating with Mycroft when they were 18. For some reason, John wanted it to be some special occasion, full of lights and presents and people. Sherlock sighed just thinking about it. Tonight was sure to be full of nauseating small talk about television shows and celebrities, all those silly things people cared about. There wasn't even a case to take his mind off it all. Sherlock picked up his violin and angrily began screeching out some notes at random. John happened to stroll into the room from the kitchen just as Sherlock looked out the window, full of his teenager-like angst. "What's wrong with you, then?"
John didn't even look up from the Christmas card he was holding. This was the third time that week that Sherlock had seemed especially angry.
"I don't understand why you make such a big deal out of Christmas. It's just a day. Aren't there more important things you should be worrying about?"
John had heard this speech twice already, so he simply sighed and responded the same way as before. "You know it means a lot to us. Mrs. Hudson wants you to be there. It'll be over soon enough. Then you can go find a good old fashioned murder to solve. Deal?"
Sherlock didn't respond for a moment. He sat slowly in his chair and looked over at John, whose weary face told Sherlock he had been up late again last night, probably more nightmares based on the way his voice had been shaking that morning. Defeated, Sherlock asked politely, "When does it start?"
The smile that came across his best friend's face was worth the long night that it would surely be.