AN:I know that it is not December anymore, but had some problems that stopped me from posting the last two chapters before. Real-Life got in the way, so I am very very late to tie this up. This is the last chapter, of what I was calling my Twelve days of Christmas. Thank you for reading and don't forget to review to let me know what you liked. WRF x

The Aran Knit

Sherlock sat with the gift he had bought for John and pondered it. It wasn't a Christmas present, not in as many words, more a token of apology. Funny that two years ago he would not have known what he had done wrong, and now he knew – without a shadow of doubt – that he had messed up.

John's favourite aran knit oatmeal-cream sweater had been loitering around one of his chemical experiments – not his fault – but dropping a few toxic liquids on it had been all on him. Damn his curiosity.

Sherlock remembered that a week ago when John came home to the evidence, he went nuclear. He swore and raged for about ten minutes before going upstairs to his old room, where he stayed for the rest of the night. The following three days Sherlock found himself being met with a stony silence and the occasional grunt. The two days following that John blessed him with basic sentences, which is when Sherlock saw that it was worse than he thought.

Sherlock wrapped the box expertly, and placed a ribbon around it and waited. John was due home in the next ten minutes, where Sherlock would apologise – and mean it – and give over the gift.

Sherlock could imagine the confusion that would pull John's brows together, the question forming in his mind.

Sherlock was so lost in thought that he didn't hear the key in the lock downstairs nor the footsteps on each stair on the way up. He didn't notice the kitchen door open. Sherlock didn't notice when John stood behind his chair looking down, brows knit in pure confusion.

Sherlock noticed when John picked up the wrapped box though. His icy blue eyes narrowed to catch every flit of emotion that crossed John's face.

"What is this, Sherlock?"

"A gift, John. It's my, well, it's my sorry to you." Sherlock watched John turn the box over in his hands, but he said nothing. "I know that I rarely know how important sentiment can be. I know that when I used your sweater as part of my experiment, it showed me to be callous and I hurt you and I am sorry. I can't undo what I have done, John, but this is a gesture."

A smile crossed John's face slowly as he pulled the ribbon from around the lid of the box, and removed the lid slowly. John gasped as he removed the sweater within. His eyes lit up as the smile broke across his face freely and he stroked the soft wool.

"Thanks. It's, ah, it's very nice. Almost perfect in fact."

"It's not a Christmas present, please understand. It wont replace the emotions, I know, but maybe we could build new ones around it. New memories."

John held the sweater close and sniffed at it. "New memories, eh? I know what my first memory should be. I want this to smell like you. So you better pop this on, and I'll get out my camera phone, so I have memories to look at when you're being a complete prat."

John bent down to drop a kiss on Sherlock's mouth and pulled away slowly. "To be honest, I would have been happy with an apology. This is far better. Thank you for showing that you care, love."

The aran knit was worn that evening by both John and Sherlock, and Sherlock wore it for their Christmas party at 221B. They built more memories for the sweater every week.