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Sherlock was awoken early on Christmas morning by John throwing pillows at his head.

"Get up you idiot!" John shouted happily

Sherlock rolled over, grumbling as another pillow smacked him in the face, and propped himself up on his elbows. He looked over at John, letting a bemused smile split across his face. With that, John bolted from the room, Sherlock following quickly behind him. They arrived in the kitchen first, to plates piled high with Rachel's most delicious breakfast yet. Sherlock ate more that morning than he had in a long while, there had been weeks in the past where he'd eaten this much or even less. After breakfast, they all gathered around the tree. John's mum tried to snap several photos, but John just rolled his eyes and laughed, no longer embarrassed by his mum's behavior. Rachel opened her presents from John first, a bottle of nice, flowery perfume and a new scarf. When Sherlock handed her his present, a surprised look crossed over her face.

"Oh you didn't have to get me anything!"

Sherlock simply smiled and gestured for her to open it. He'd gotten her a new pair of gardening gloves and several packets of wildflowers seeds after noticing how much she enjoyed gardening. It had be obvious really, but Rachel was still incredibly surprised at such a thoughtful and appropriate present from someone she'd know for only a few days.

"How did you know?" she questioned, smile spread wide across her face.

"I noticed. It's just something I do, notice things about people. They don't usually like it though, expect for him," he replied, pointing to John and grinning.

Rachel pulled Sherlock into tight hug, and for once, he actually hugged someone back.

Sherlock opened John's present next, a set of leather-bound classic horror books. He smiled at the appropriate gift, John had obviously noticed Sherlock's taste for the macabre. John started opening his gifts next. Some video games, a couple of new jumpers and pairs of socks, as well as a few books. Sherlock began to panic (internally, of course) as John neared his gift. What if he thought it was weird? What if he didn't like it? Swallowing as John reached for the last gift in the pile, he wanted nothing more than to bolt out of the house and hide somewhere.

John peeled back the paper on his last present, one from Sherlock, revealing a small, black sketch book. Eyebrows furrowed, he flipped the book open. It was full of the most beautiful charcoal drawings John had ever seen. Landscapes of their school, the dorm hall, the grounds around it that they'd walked so often. The outline of himself standing alone in front of their dorm hall, two lone figures standing under a large tree with it's leaves bringing the only color into the drawing. A person sitting on the edge of a bed, a small box clutched in their hand. John leaning on the floor in front of Sherlock, gripping his wrists. The two of them laughing together. The final few being drawings of John's home, the outside, the fireplace, his room. Finally reaching the end, a few loose pages fell out, and John noticed a note on the final page. He opened up the loose pages first, and registered Sherlock's untidy scrawl...and music notes? Handwritten sheet music. Sherlock had composed something for him? About him? Tearing his eyes away from the sheet music, he began reading the note.

Dear John,

When I was faced with the prospect of giving you a gift, I was at a complete loss. I don't have much experience with gift-giving, seeing as my family isn't the most affectionate or sentimental. I didn't just want to get you something meaningless, you mean too much to me for that. I've been doing these sketches for a while now, just using them as something to keep my mind off things and kind of let out my emotions in a healthier way. Music always helps as well. So I though you might like them. A piece of me, something to always remind you that you are my friend, my first friend, and maybe the only one I'll ever have. I hope this gift can show you how much you mean to me, and how glad I am that you didn't give up on me like everyone else seems too. I was so alone before I met you, and you saved me from myself. I don't know if I would still be here if it wasn't for you. You mean the world to me, more than you could ever imagine, and I don't want to think about what my life would be like without you. So thanks for everything you've done for me, for being my friend and for helping me find a reason to stay.

Sherlock

John felt tears rolling down his face at that last part. Sometimes he didn't realize how alone Sherlock had been, how horrible things he'd gone through. He'd always seemed so put together, so calm, and John had never realized that Sherlock had been suicidal when they'd met. He didn't want to think about that. He'd thought that his self-harming was just something he did to release stress and emotion, he couldn't (no, didn't) want to think about Sherlock sitting on the floor of the bathroom, trying to work up the courage to end it. Wiping his tears away, John looked over at Sherlock, who was sitting on the floor, knees draw up to his chest, staring at the floor. John just shook his head and smiled, chuckling as he pulled Sherlock into hug. He was never going anywhere, and he was going to make sure that his wonderful, brilliant, genius best friend was never in such a horrible place again.

Awww :) Sweet Sherlock and John moments!

Thanks for reading, and PLEASE leave a review with any criticisms or ideas. I'm a little...excited(?)...at where I'm going to be taking this story. I don't know how much longer it's going to be, definitely quite a few more chapters.

Hope to update soon! BYE :D