So this is Christmas, and what have you done?
Sooooo this is a kinda late Christmas special. I had wanted to post it directly on Christmas, but Christmas got in the way, I'm so sorry!
Hope you're still in Christmas- mood, because I think you might like this :3
Happy new year, also, btw!
Next chapter is in writing, so I hope I get it done soon :)
I noticed that I made a few planning mistakes in the last chapters, I will sort that out at some point, like for example that no one complains about the cold when it's obviously February and stuff like that. Please just ignore that for now? :) I'll work on it, I promise.
John Lennon - Happy Xmas (War is over)
"Actually, there is a case with which you could help me."
John looked curiously at Sherlock and waited for him to elaborate. The detective, though, only grinned mysteriously and said: "I'll explain it to you when we're back at the flat, if you don't mind. I suppose going home might only be a risk of running into Mary and having to explain yourself."
He was right, there was nothing to be said against it. And having a case with Sherlock again, a completely unrelated, neutral case…
Childish excitement took hold of him.
When they got out of the cab, a pleasant smell crept into John's nose. And even before he opened the door to the flat, he asked Sherlock: "Did you bake cookies?"
He barely couldn't believe himself asking this, but the scent was without doubt coming from Sherlock's kitchen, not Mrs. Hudson's.
His friend, however, did not respond and instead opened the door. John thought his heart might stop of shock.
Everything was decorated in red and green, a fir tree with ornaments stood next to the fireplace and several light strings were hung up on the walls.
"Sherlock…" John cautiously began, "you do know that we're in March, right? Christmas was almost three months ago, and we even celebrated it, at your parents' place."
He was not sure if this was some sort of joke or if Sherlock had suffered from his almost-overdose more than they thought.
"But you like Christmas, don't you, John? What's wrong with celebrating Christmas whenever we feel like it?"
That only earned him a sceptical look from John, who really thought about calling the hospital immediately, so Sherlock hurried to say: "Okay, okay, it's for a cold case Lestrade gave me. I need to recreate the atmosphere. Do you think it's convincing?"
At that moment, a snowman on a shelf started singing Silent Night, which surprised John so much he had to laugh.
"You're unbelievable. So those are cookies you made?"
Sherlock grinned and took off his coat. Below, he wore one of the most hideous Christmas sweaters John had ever seen, which made him only laugh more. Sherlock ignored him and pulled out a similar sweater in different colours from under the couch, then tossed it to John.
"Wear this."
John sighed, but somehow he was also curious to see what this was all about, and so he took off his own jacket and pulled the sweater over his head. It fit perfectly and didn't even scratch. He had to admit that it felt very nice.
"What now?" John asked and Sherlock retreated to the kitchen. Only a moment later he gestured John to sit in his usual armchair, a plate of cookies in hies hand.
"Tea?" he asked and the Doctor nodded, suppressing a smile. This was a Sherlock he had never known, being nice and openly caring about other people. Then again, it was for a case, that definitely explained the dedication the detective showed.
While he was still wondering about the situation, Sherlock put a cup of tea on the small table next to him, and it turned out to be perfect. This got more and more surprising.
Sherlock smiled and sat across him, offering him cookies, which tasted wonderful. John forgot about the weird dinner, about Sophie and Hockey-Mark, about Mary and the dead child. All he felt was Christmas, and he found that Sherlock had done a very convincing job in recreating the holiday.
"How are the cookies John?" Sherlock asked and John praised them as much as he could.
"So no weird taste to them? You still feel good?"
This was suspicious.
"What did you do to them?" John asked, trying his best to stay calm but anger started to bubble up. Why couldn't they have one normal, nice evening?
"It's not dangerous, I promise! They're supposed to make you happy and maybe a bit lightheaded and careless, but it's not drugs. I can't tell you what it is now because it might affect your behaviour, but after this evening I will give you the whole case file and you will know everything. So please just go with it?"
John sighed. He should have known something like this would happen, but somehow he couldn't really be angry with his friend.
"Is there something in the tea as well?" he asked cautiously and Sherlock actually laughed and shook his head. Then he pressed a button on a remote control and some violin music started to play, no doubt recorded by himself just before.
"Let's have presents. I'm aware it's a custom on Christmas."
John started. "I don't have anything for you, I didn't know about this."
"Don't worry, I prepared something for you to give to me as well. This way, it is also guaranteed to be of my taste."
John laughed. Of course Sherlock would see it this way.
"Alright, let's have it then."
Sherlock pulled out two boxes, neatly wrapped in green and red paper with reindeer heads on it; one he gave to John immediately, the other after half a minute of waiting.
"Happy Christmas, John," he said and John handed him his own box.
"Happy Christmas, you madman," he laughed, then pulled the ribbon off his box.
Inside, he found a book about the rarest poisons in the world with their antidotes and other tips to survive them. It wasn't anything he would have wished for, but he had to admit that it was a very interesting subject and might come in handy some time.
"Oh, John, you got me the new book about tobacco that I eyed for a while now! Thank you so much, how did you know this would be the perfect present?" Sherlock exclaimed and John laughed.
"Thanks for the book, Sherlock, it was very thoughtful of you. You didn't poison the cookies, though, did you?"
A horrid look appeared on John's face until Sherlock said: "John, you always think such horrible things. Why would I want to poison you? I need my blogger!"
The doctor smiled and went to hug Sherlock, who stood up to meet him halfway.
"You seem in a much better mood now," the detective observed and John had to agree. He didn't know if it was just being away from that restaurant, if it was the nice Christmas-atmosphere in the flat or actually the cookies, but he didn't really care. Sherlock had said the cookies weren't dangerous, and feeling happy for one evening would only do him good. So he just went with it.
Sherlock pulled out a list and crossed out some lines, then said: "Next would be… Dancing or board games are common, I believe. I guess I'm getting the Cluedo then?"
He made to move to a shelf behind the couch, but John stopped him.
"Oh no no no. I told you I'm not playing that! I'd rather dance, if I have to!"
Sherlock turned around, a surprised look on his face.
"Alright then," he said slowly and changed the music track to something slower. John automatically moved towards his friend, stood in position and offered his hands.
At first, their dance was awkward, but soon they both relaxed and even stepped a little closer together.
A small voice in John's head asked what he was doing there, but he shut it up. Sherlock had been smiling quite a lot today, the way John had wanted him to, and after all it was probably just the stuff in the cookies. He could blame it all on them later.
They danced on and on, one song after another; every piece more beautiful and soft than the one before. Finally, the recording stopped and the two men stepped apart.
John cleared his throat.
"That was… nice," he said and smiled a little. He wasn't sure what any of this meant, if it meant anything; and what sort of case was this anyway?
The beep of his phone brought him out of his thoughts, and even though he had no intentions of answering any texts now, he still took a look at the time. It was past eleven and he really should go home.
He probably was in enough trouble as it was already.
"I really hope I could help you with your case, but it's late and I should go now…"
He pointed to the door, feeling a little awkward. But Sherlock only nodded and brought him his coat, then guided him to the door.
"Thank you a lot for your help, John. I will let you know the details tomorrow the latest so you can blog about it," he said and John felt like a huge distance had just been brought between them. Feeling a little insecure, he made to hug Sherlock, who at first didn't respond to it at all, but then he returned the embrace with enormous strength.
John smiled up at his friend, and that was when he saw the mistletoe hanging at the door frame.
And without thinking, he kissed Sherlock on the lips.
The detective answered immediately and drew John in with his warm lips, occasionally caressing him with his tongue.
When they finally pulled apart, John blushed a deep red and whispered: "I swear, it's all the cookies. They were a full success, Sherlock…"
The detective, however, smiled faintly and then whispered back: "Let me tell you a secret, John…
There was nothing in those cookies."
