Have a two-parter holiday special because I'm feeling like another long one. Hopefully I can release the second chapter in time for Valentines. Enjoy!
Sherlock was fully covered by a blanket he'd dragged from his bedroom and into the living room. To any casual passerby it would appear as though a monster made of bedding material had taken up residence at 221B.
"You planning on doing anything productive today?" John asked as he passed the blanket monster, placing a mug of tea on the table nearest the couch. Sherlock's hands darted out from under the blanket and pulled the tea under his blanket fort like a tiger dragging prey into its den. He then grumbled something unintelligible in response to John's question.
"Well, alright then." John shook his head. "I'm going to be out with Jessica most of today, don't forget. Mrs. Hudson is downstairs if you need something." The doctor pulled on his coat as he spoke.
"I'm not a child." Sherlock muttered.
"Yeah? Well you're certainly not an adult." John countered on his way out the door. "You be good!"
Mrs. Hudson passed John on his way down the stairs, saying a quick 'goodbye' and 'have a nice time' before making her way into the flat above.
"You seem to be in a fine mood." She commented with a smirk, making herself busy trying to clean up a good portion of the kitchen. Although she insisted constantly that it wasn't her job she found herself doing it quite often, and Sherlock and John certainly never lifted a finger to stop her.
"Go away." Sherlock replied, his voice tired and bored.
"Well that's very rude." Mrs. Hudson said disapprovingly. "So, you know Valentine's day is coming up. Are you going to get anything for John?"
Sherlock sighed, clearly avoiding social interaction by means of blanket simply wouldn't work today. He flung the blanket off his face and placed his mug on the table before him.
"Mrs. Hudson if you were a bit more observant you would have noticed John running down the stairs to meet up with his dearly devoted female companion." He snapped.
"Good to know the only reason you won't is because he's seeing someone." Mrs. Hudson winked, causing Sherlock to wish he'd stayed under the blanket.
"It doesn't matter even if he is seeing someone!" He argued. "I'm not looking for romantic involvement and John isn't looking for a sociopath of the same sex."
"That doesn't mean you shouldn't try, dear!" Mrs. Hudson exclaimed in what she assumed was an encouraging voice. "Sherlock, you love that man! He's the only person I've ever seen you show some real affection towards and you're letting him get away!"
"Of course I'm letting him get away, I'm purposefully trying to let him get away." Sherlock lay back on the couch and rubbed at his temples. "Maybe he'll meet a nice girl and move out and then I can focus on my work again."
"Oh, Sherlock you idiot." Mrs. Hudson sighed. "That's not how it works."
"Thank you, go away now." Sherlock pleaded, pointing a slender finger towards the door. Mrs. Hudson obliged, but stopped at the doorway and turned around.
"You really could just do something nice for Valentine's day, I'm sure he'd appreciate the gesture even if he didn't want to return it." She said.
"Goodbye, Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock replied rudely. However as soon as he heard her feet on the first stair he frowned and shouted. "What exactly do people do for this commercialized hell of a holiday?"
Mrs. Hudson chuckled and made her way back into the flat, preparing for what would no doubt be a frustrating explanation.
Sherlock had a few surprising talents. There was his skill with a violin, his mastery of disguise, he could also perform napkin origami at an alarming speed. Another and lesser known talent of his was that he was very good at baking. In his mind it was basically just chemistry and so easier than most other chores normal people had to tackle. So when Mrs. Hudson told him that the exchange of sweets was customary on this abhorrent holiday he'd moved the test tubes from the kitchen and replaced them with the makings for chocolate. He even donned an apron in order to keep the ingredients from staining his fine shirt.
Of course being the perfectionist that he was he couldn't just make one kind, in fact he ended up with several different types of chocolate from something as symbol as molded milk chocolate to something more complex like jam truffles (something he thought John would like, he seemed to remember someone telling him the doctor had a preference for jam). Once he'd finished though he felt fear in his stomach, remembering the whole reason why John was out of the flat today.
No doubt right now John was pressed up against his girlfriend admiring whatever perfection he saw in her, and when he came home he would make some comment about the hands in the fridge or the hidden stash of cigarettes under the rug and Sherlock would be reminded once again that he held no other position in John's life other than eccentric flatmate.
Sighing Sherlock packaged the chocolates up in a tupperware and hid them at the back of the fridge. If he lost his courage he could let them remain there forgotten and unused, and if he did work up the courage to confront John then they would be waiting.
The detective then returned to the living room and perched on his chair, attempting to think of less mainstreamed ideas. If he was going to do this he would do it his way and be done with it. He thought of writing John a song but then realized that he'd already done that hundreds of times. In fact most of the songs he played nowadays were ones he'd composed while thinking of the doctor, and surely it was only by sheer luck that John hadn't recognized himself in those heart wrenching notes.
Sherlock was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he barely noticed the passing of time until the whole flat was darkened by night and John was making his way up the stairs.
The doctor looked troubled and Sherlock decided he may as well ask about it, as he didn't like to see John looking upset. (stupid really, he couldn't let the emotions of another get to him like that).
"Trouble?" He asked casually.
"We broke up." John sighed. "Three days before Valentine's...guess I should return her gift, eh?" He laughed quietly but he looked sad. Sherlock however couldn't stop from feeling a happy thrill run through his body. Could this be his chance?