*****Authors Note: I know I'm a little late as Christmas has been and gone, as has New Years, but I've written a little Christmas chapter nevertheless! I hope you all had a wonderful festive period, if you celebrate it or not, and I really hope you all enjoy this chapter! Let me know what you think of it in the reviews or in my Tumblr or Twitter which is linked to in my bio :). *****
Sherlock slumped down on the bench inside the shopping centre with a sigh. He thought going out and looking in shops would inspire him but it was no use. He was still absolutely clueless on what to get John from Christmas. He wasn't even fully sure why he was bothering, his concealed sentimentality appearing to take over his mind in this situation.
It had now been a few months since Sherlock and John began talking, since the party, and clearly Sherlock wasn't taking the advice from his older brother to stay away and spare his feelings. He couldn't help it. For so long he had watched John and now he was becoming close to him, they made each other oddly happy for being such different people so, as much as Sherlock knew he shouldn't, he continued to spend time with John.
Of course the time they spent together was limited due to the workload they had for university, and John's other friends, but if they were lucky, they could find a day where they could go out, escape the walls of their school and all of the unaccepting faces that were held in them. That's what they had planned for the next day. It was drawing close to the Christmas break and both were returning home for the two weeks, so this could be the last opportunity they had to be together until the new term.
Sherlock checked his watch. John was on average five minutes and forty-two seconds late for everything and one minute had already gone of that. He had just enough time to nip to the bathroom and check everything to do with his appearance was okay. God that sounded so stupid in his head. Since when did Sherlock Holmes care what he looked like? Since he had somebody to look good for. Though he never went all out on his appearance, he just kept up with things that would seem normal to anyone else but he never used to bother with; keeping his hair combed and a reasonable length (even though nothing could really tame it), deciding that maybe it's best not to try and get away with wearing the same clothes two days in a row, and such.
As Sherlock entered the male's bathroom he took a quick glance around. Okay. Good. Nobody else was in. He approached the only mirror that was above the sinks and stared at himself. He and John were so different, in personality and appearance. John was sporty, fit, blonde, handsome… everything Sherlock could ever dream of in a friend, in a boyfriend. That was one of the only downfalls to all of this. He could guess and deduce all he wanted at John's sexuality but in certain people it could be one of the hardest things to presume. Sherlock observed the way he looked at girls, the way he looked at boys, on his own, and when he was with his friends, but all the while he seemed to look at most the same. Sherlock hoped he was the one that John looked differently at. He roughly adjusted the turned up collar of his jacket. "God damn it, Sherlock, stop." He harshly whispered to himself, glaring at his reflection. He was getting in deep and he knew it – although what he didn't know, was how to stop it.
With a sudden loud creak from the bathroom door, Sherlock dropped his hands from his hair, having been trying desperately to make one bit that was hanging down in front of his forehead sit correctly, and swiftly turned around to be faced with John. Initially their faces both screwed in confusion of their unexpected meeting in the bathroom, but they soon fell into quiet laughter. "Hey," John introduced with a spreading grin as he walked over closer to Sherlock, which Sherlock repeated. "I must have had the same idea as you," John motioned to the mirror. "I saw you weren't there so I thought I'd come in here and sort myself out," He said with a smirk that made Sherlock question if he was being sincere or mocking. A small blush crept over Sherlock's cheeks, the growing colour obvious against his porcelain skin.
"I, uh, I was just, uh," he stammered out as John walked over to him and the mirror. Control your words, Sherlock reminded himself, remaining completely still as John got closer. "What are you doing?" His body was frozen, he was surprised he managed to get his words out. John's hand was stretching up to Sherlock's hair, about to push back the strand that Sherlock was trying to previously fix by himself.
"Just stay still," John chuckled as Sherlock tried to jerk back. After it finally staying in place from John's gentle touch, he let the hair go and met Sherlock's eyes again. "There," he quietly confirmed, his hand lingering for just a second longer than it should have – which of course was picked up on by Sherlock – before he dropped it down by his side again. Sherlock wished he knew what to do right then. Should he move away? Say something? God he wished he had something witty to say instead of being stationary to the spot, unable to look away from John's eyes. "Are you done in here then? We can go and have our meet up in the café, where we were meant to be, rather than their bathroom," John breathed out a small laugh as he eventually stepped back from Sherlock, leaving his friend quietly craving his closeness.
They had found some seats near the back of the café, next to a window that was looking out onto the busy town. The seats were a lucky grab, the closeness of Christmas meant the city was mobbed, but this was the only time they were able to meet before the holidays. As Sherlock sat down he removed his coat, and the heavy lump in his left pocket reminded him that he had a gift for John. He glanced across at his friend who was scanning over the menu, and began to anxiously fumble about in his pocket to pull out the perfectly wrapped gift. Was he really nervous to give a stupid Christmas present to John? Sherlock wanted to slap himself and tell himself to get a grip, but instead he cleared his throat and sat up straighter. "John?"
"mhm?" He hummed without looking up from the menu.
"I bought you something. For Christmas." John eventually looked up with furrowed brows. Sherlock actually got him something?
"You… bought me a present?" Sherlock paused for a moment at John's disbelief. Was it a bad thing that he was so surprised? Was it because he didn't get him anything in return?
"Uh, yes… here." He awkwardly handed the gift over the table to John, whose face was slowly acquiring a smile. As John began to unwrap it, he felt a sense of guilt in his previous thinking that Sherlock wouldn't bother to buy him anything. He had the idea of a standby present, something he wasn't going to mention unless Sherlock had bought him something too. It was stupid and a little bit selfish of John to do so, but Sherlock wasn't really the type of person you'd expect to go out buying people presents, and John had no idea how he'd react to someone giving him one, so he thought he'd play it safe. Although, when it came down to it, John had absolutely no idea what to get him. So he decided to go with the easy option and just bring some extra money with him to give.
John tore off the wrapping paper from his gift and pulled out the book which was inside. He held it up, letting the ripped paper land on the table as he read the title. It was a brown, leather bound, delicately decorated copy of "The Hobbit" by J. R. R. Tolkien. "God, Sherlock," John chuckled as he admired it. "This would have been expensive… You shouldn't have spent that much on me," he shook his head while carefully laying the book down on the table. Sherlock shrugged, a smile creeping across his lips as he watched how happy he had made John. The price of the book wasn't too bad and he really didn't mind spending the money on John, especially since it turned out to be a good guess of a present after all. "Thank you," John beamed over at Sherlock, and after appreciating the book for another small minute, he reached into his jean's pocket to pull out Sherlock's money. "I've got something for you too. It's only this because I had no idea what to buy…" John let out a slightly nervous chuckle as he handed over the small note to Sherlock, who took it with as much gratitude as he would if John had bought him something with it.
"Why don't we put this towards lunch?" Sherlock asked as he held up the money between his fingers and John nodded in agreement.
Both boys couldn't help but grin across at each other. And they found it hard to stop doing so for the rest of the way through their small meal.
