A/N: Anything that you recognise in this story belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle/BBC Sherlock. Anything that you don't recognise that is good belongs to my amazing beta: thecapefangirl (please check out her awesome fics), most of it is highly-overused fanon and tropes and the tiny amount left is mine.

This will probably be posted bi-weekly on Saturdays until December when it will be posted weekly but I will warn you if there's a change.

Merry Christmas everyone. (Yes, it's end of August but IDC).

-EliHarmonyVolkes (check out my profile for more info about me).

Prologue
The snow danced down to Earth outside the window of 221B Baker Street whilst the fire inside glowed invitingly. Sherlock and John were each looking through their post - mainly Christmas cards - that they had received earlier that day. However, after reading one particularly long letter, Sherlock leapt to his feet and started pacing the room. Sensing something was wrong, John looked at him questioningly then patiently waited for him to explain.
Sherlock mumbled to himself for almost two minutes with John being able to catch only the odd word here or there.
"No...my fault...I told...shouldn't have...can't...unfair..."
In the end, Sherlock seemed to come to a decision and turned to John, "Could you, that is to say, would you accompany me to my parent's house and act as my boyfriend as I may have accidentally told them I have one."
John could feel his face flushing and, to avoid further embarrassment, hurriedly answered, "Sorry, I'm staying with Harry." He rushed to his room to continue reading his letters.
A couple of days later, John received a text which both terrified him and made him feel ecstatic:

Soz, little bro
Gotta cancel
Clara + I together again
-Harry
xxx

Because he was older but smaller, John was annoyed at her use of 'little brother' but got over it immediately because it was amazing news. He told Sherlock that what had happened.
"So, um," John blushed, "so about that, you know, thing, you asked me to do with the…"
"Being my boyfriend. I assume you can join me."
"Well, um, yes," John said, averting Sherlock's gaze. "I suppose I can now. I am more than happy to do it…I mean since you are my friend and all… not because…um, never mind. I am perfectly content to do this thing for you."
Sherlock cleared his throat. He was determined he was going to keep his head about this whole debacle, "Good. I shall inform my parents at once."
He turned around and began to walk towards the bathroom. He could not help the smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Sherlock told himself that it was a smile of relief, yet his fluttering stomach hinted at something different.

The next few days passed with subtle, longing glances between the two friends. Decorations were put up with a large tree in the corner. Thankful customers came by to drop a present or two. Mrs Hudson kept herself busy in the kitchen making a variety of Christmas treats and a holiday feeling filled the air in 221B Baker Street.