A Good Coat And A Short Friend

This is my first fic so please review and let me know what you think.

A few months passed and preparations were being made for Christmas inside 221B Baker Street. Mrs Hudson rushed up the mistreated stairs with an overflowing box of decorations which John had inquired about earlier in the day. He had kept Sherlock in the dark so that he could surprise him when he got home.

Sherlock was currently in the middle of a case that had really taken his interest. Something to do with ex-Russian Mafia members terrorising secondary schools and banks - to be honest, John hadn't picked up all that much information because he zones out when Sherlock starts to ramble about his cases.

Even though John had put a number of hours and much care into Christmasifying the flat and getting himself in the winter spirit, he knew it was just another month to Sherlock and he wouldn't care for it much. This, however, did not stop John from treating himself to a large mug of tea when he was satisfied that there were decorations wherever you stepped.

Another hour passed and John found himself waking up to Sherlock blabbering on about nothing of importance, or in fact relevance, to the case and even his life in general.

As is usually expected of him, Sherlock's voice exploded with the overly common "Bored!"

"What do you want me to do about it? You've solved three cases in a week, one of which was a cold case as Lestrade didn't have any more for you. Please, calm down! The kettle's full so flick it on for me, would you?" John said as he returned to his once loved newspaper.

"It's too far away!" He said with a sense of longing.

John turned his head to see Sherlock's neck had gone floppy against the back of his armchair while staring into the kitchen at the kettle. As usual, John gave into his genius and built up enough momentum to drag himself to the counter.

When he returned, Sherlock was standing straight up and looked very sincere, mind you, he always looks that way.

"Let's go to Angelo's." Sherlock suggested with an unusual twinkle in his eye.

"But I've only just put the kettle on." John seemed to be nearly at the end of his tether.

"Well, it's four o'clock now, and you never eat before six, so I obviously don't mean now. I was thinking maybe around seven o'clock."

John raised an eyebrow and slowly turned to sit down again, analysing what Sherlock had just said.

"You never say 'maybe'. You are always sure about things and how you want them to happen, instead now you are asking for my input. You're hiding something, and I will find out what." John said as seriously as he could manage.

Almost immediately, Sherlock pulled a straight face which just made John giggle like a schoolgirl.

"Are you… laughing at me?" But unfortunately for Sherlock, this just made john giggle even more. "What are you laughing at? I've said nothing funny."

"You're digging yourself a hole. If I were you, I'd stop digging. Come and get your tea." John led a very confused Sherlock to the kitchen.

Before he knew it, John was sitting in the usual window seat of Angelo's, eating his favourite meal, and if he was honest, with his favourite person. He started to contemplate: could life get any better?

For a number of weeks now, John had felt different around Sherlock. They'd lived together for nearly six months and never had he experienced this. He felt a complete sense of relief whenever Sherlock finished a case or just came home each night.

"Sherlock, if you don't start to eat your meal within the next two minutes, I'll force feed it to you!" John looked at Sherlock, raising both eyebrows trying to be intimidating, but it didn't work as Sherlock could never be intimidated by anyone.

This carried on in the usual fashion for the next half an hour before John gave in and gestured for the bill. Suddenly, John's eyes filled with inspiration.

"Why did you want to come here tonight?" John's eyes closed slightly as he stared at Sherlock in anticipation.

Sherlock looked up at John and straight into his eyes. "I suppose… well… it's just…"

John restrained himself from letting out a slight giggle. "I never thought I'd see the day that Sherlock Holmes would be speechless."

Sherlock's cheeks shone bright red. It was as though he'd never blushed in his life and now was making up for it. He took a deep breath and looked to John's chest in an effort to avoid eye contact for fear of embarrassment. He started to open his mouth to speak when his phone vibrated and called out with a text.

London Philharmonic Orchestra due to perform at the Albert hall tomorrow, all found dead.

Lestrade

John's featured filled with disappointment as he looked out of the window. He knew Sherlock would choose the case over an awkward conversation with him.

"It's an interesting one and probably a lot of money in it. I'm sorry, and I know I only just finished a case this morning, but this might give me a week off after." He gathered his scarf, coat and gloves and headed for the door. He grabbed the handle but looked back at John who was finishing his coffee and with a sense of regret, he disappeared into the dark streets of London.