Hello everyone...I can't wait to show you what the bys got each other for Christmas! I just decided what John was going to get Sherlock today...I've known what Sherlock is getting John for months.

-Myelle

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John POV

Surprisingly, Sherlock seemed very excited to find a tree upon reaching the tree lot. It was as if years of bottled up childhood emotions were suddenly unleashed. I didn't regret making him celebrate. How could I when he was so happy? I think that this might be joyous Christmas after all.

Now, we sat in our apartment, surveying the brightly decorated tree from the sofa. With tea in our hands, and the lights contrasting with the dark room, there was an overwhelming feeling of bliss in me and I could tell Sherlock was feeling the same thing.

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Sherlock POV

I wasn't going to tell John the reason for my aversion to Christmas. That stays with me.

This was the first Christmas tree I had decorated in over twenty four years. After Daddy died, Mycroft, mummy and I didn't feel like celebrating anymore. Not without him...and with his death so close to the holiday itself.

Maybe this year I'll even play my violin at Christmas. I usually lock it away for fear of being tempted into learning a Christmas carol. But maybe this year I'd intentionally learn one. For John.

I wonder what his favourite is...

Maybe this Christmas could be good. You were supposed to celebrate with people you enjoyed being around. I enjoyed being around John. He and Mrs. Hudson, and Molly were my only friends. There was Lestrade, but could anyone really consider him a friend? Honestly, the man only people around if they were of use to him.

Maybe all those friends would have dinner with John and I in our flat like a family would and maybe we'd laugh together like a family would...and celebrate.

I can't help but notice that these are all maybe's and not for-sure's. Oh well. I'm sure John would work out what we were doing for Christmas. It was his idea after all.

My phone rang, interrupting the peaceful silence that John and I were enjoying together.

I groaned and got up, realizing who it was.

"Hello, Mycroft." I answered, walking into my room for some privacy. I'm sure John didn't want to hear our conversation anyway.

"Sherlock, I heard news. You're celebrating Christmas, hmm?"

"Yes, and it's none of your business."

"But you don't know how to celebrate Christmas. I bet you it didn't even occur to you to get John a gift, did it?"

"No, but-"

He laughed and I felt the anger flush to my face. What did he know? Mycroft hadn't celebrated either in the last...almost 25 years. Who was he to tell me I didn't know how?

"I'm only telling you because John is going to get you something, whether he's decided on it or not...we both know he won't be able to forget a gift. You, however, would, and most probably will. Therefore, I can get someone to get something for you to give since you don't shop. He's probably not expecting anything-since you usually never give him anything anyway. "

"Shut up, Mycroft. If I'm celebrating Christmas, I'm doing it the right way. I don't want you messing this up for me. I hate shopping but if it's necessary, I'll do it. I'll prove to you and John that I can do this."

"Just keep in mind that you don't have to shop, Sherlock. People make gifts, too. I'm sure you can think of something in that tidy little brain of yours."

"Goodbye, Mycroft." I aid forcefully, hanging up the phone.

When I came back into the sitting room, John waited for me with a cup of tea in his hand. I sipped at it eagerly, grumbling about my stupid brother.

"Come on, don't be such a Scrooge." John said.

"Scrooge? John, do you really think I'm the heartless? I try not to be-"

"No, no, Sherlock. It's just an expression."

"Oh."

We sat quietly, starting at the tree. Surprisingly, I didn't let my mind wander. I just sat there enjoying the illumination and the colours. The glass ornaments seemed to glisten against the glow of the lights. The whole tree smelled of pine and Christmassy scents that I remember from my childhood. Everything in the room looked better now that the soft blush from the tree lights danced on every surface. It was beautiful. Breathtakingly so.

But then, as it would have to be, my mind wandered anyway.

"So if I'm scrooge, who are you?"

"Well I can be Jacob Marley."

"No."

"Why not?" He asked, staring at me like he hadn't known he could have a wrong answer.

"Because you're too nice, John. Jacob Marley was a greedy old bugger. You're not like that at all."

"Okay then, Sherlock, who am I?"

"Tiny Tim. Oh, don't give me that look, John. I'm honestly surprised that you hadn't mentioned him in the first place. You're short, and so is he. It's in his name. You're inspirational, but don't ever tell anyone I said that or they'll think I've gone soft, and you almost died by my hand. Tim is dead when the third ghost brings Scrooge to the graveyard. Oh, and don't forget the limp."

John scoffed at this.

"Oh." He mumbled, taking a very slow sip of his tea. "Well now that I think of it...I suppose I am similar to him. But I'm not short."

"Yes you are."

"No I'm not."

"Yes you-"

"Shut up."

We laughed at out silly banter and I realized that I liked making John laugh. Perhaps I should get John something funny for Christmas...and then it hit me.

I knew exactly the perfect gift for John.

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Happy early Christmas...and I hope I can learn to update more quickly because I have so much more of this segment before I get to the 25th which is when you guys get your Christmas gift (which is actually the same gift that Sherlock gives to john...i wrote it especially for all of you)