A/N: Hello, people!
I don't own Sherlock.
I have no beta.
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-Sorry the posting time came late for this chapter. I usually write the
chapters ahead of time but I wasn't home much yesterday(10th Dec
2015). My grandmother has been going back and forth from her
assisted living center to the hospital down the street and it's been
hectic. She has a collapsing spine with several cancerous tumors
all over the remaining vertebrae. Cancer in the kidneys. Cancer in
the left arm. That arm, she had broken about a year ago, simply by
moving it too quickly and it snapped. They had to make an incision
and force a metal rod into her arm to keep it stable but the cancer
there only got worse and worse and her tiny arm swelled up too much
and they couldn't get the puncture wound to close. Some days the
swelling would subside and others it would be terrible, including
leaking.
-My grandmother was 5'4" and is now 4'7". She in so much pain that
the doctor prescribed her a high dosage of medication to relieve it,
but her body might not being able to handle it, so we're waiting on
the edges of our seats for the bad news.
-So if my updates are a little hectic, I'm sorry, but my dying Nana is
more important at the moment.
11 December 2015, Friday:
John looked to be extremely serious as he and Sherlock faced the shop, intent on finding the appropriate holiday decorations for their flat. John looked like he was about to do battle when ti was literally just decorating.
"You're helping this year," he warned, sending Sherlock a glare that just dared him to argue.
Sherlock was severely tempted to do just that just to see John's reaction. But he remembered that he had to be wooing and fun, so this was a day for John to celebrate the changing of the season and to ring in the new holiday or something like that.
"I wouldn't dream of doing anything else," Sherlock stated, though in his mind he could think of a nice experiment that he could be doing instead.
John scoffed, but linked hands with him and dragged him through the automatic doors of the glittering shop.
"I want tinsel."
Sherlock gestured to a very large wall that was labeled as such and John's nose wrinkled. "I said tinsel, not garland."
"Is there a difference?"
Sherlock could tell that he'd walked right into that one, though he didn't know what the difference was between them.
"Tinsel strings are applied in drape-like motions, whereas you can just wrap one long strand of garland around a tree and be done with it. Tinsel is applied from top to bottom, to make it look like icicles on the tree, and it must be done meticulously. It has to be done once the decorating has finished, but garland can be before or after decorations. It's also usually used to fill in bald spots on the tree."
John was already grabbing small boxes from the other side of the aisle and tossing them into the trolley. "I am willing to go strand by strand to make this perfect."
Sherlock grabbed one of the boxes to acquaint himself with was 'tinsel' really was. 1000 Count, Tinsel Strands. And John wanted to apply them all 'meticulously'. This was going to be hell.
"What colour scheme would you like this year?" John asked, staring at the grouping of tree skirts.
"What?"
"Last year we did red and gold, but I don't want this to be a repetitive thing. We should broaden our decorative palettes."
Sherlock had never before cared for decorating for holidays, so he had barely any experience in this area. John and Mrs. Hudson were the ones who wiggled around the flat for the past two years, getting decorations together and giggling about festivities.
Still, John seemed to want to include him in on everything, so Sherlock pulled up a mental version of their tree, taking in the coloring and the silver tinsel John had already grabbed. The colors that would best compliment such would be…
"Purple or Blue," he finally decided. "The blue especially would look good with your tinsel. Then you'd have to get everything to match you realise?"
John could have blinded him with a smile so large.
He was proud obviously, but there was something else in that smile. Something Sherlock hadn't seen being aimed at him before.
He didn't know what it was though.
The flat was covered in boxes, it was next to impossible to move and for Sherlock who was almost rail thin, that was an achievement that even he had never accomplished in the flat.
John was perfectly at ease as he informed their growing fan base - 14,727 people saw the last blog and over 200 commented, Sherlock - of their expedition that day.
While John amused himself with bad grammar and recent memories, Sherlock shut himself in his room, intent on uncovering the next photograph of John.
This present was made of a velvety material and was a rich shade of purple. Underneath, was a vision of John doing the inverted sit ups from two photos ago, except it was his backside and he was still hanging straight down, not curled up.
The only difference were the dumbbells in his hands, which he was keeping at his waist and judging from the glistening of his skin, he'd been using them as well. Every muscle was strained and Sherlock could drawn lines on every ridge presented to him.
It was arousing to recognise someone's strength but also notice that they weren't a 'meathead' and didn't feel it necessary to overdo it. John was appropriately sized everywhere and Sherlock approved.
It was amazing to see the lengths John would go through just for a tantalising gift such as his advent calendar.
When he returned to the kitchen, he saw that John had made him a cup of tea this time and Sherlock took a leaf from his book, nuzzling John's messy blond hair in gratitude and enjoying John's personal scent.
He found himself strangely interested in tomorrow.
A/N: Another is done!
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