When the morning comes, John wakes early, earlier than normal even for him, and when he glances at the clock, he groans a little and turns his face into the pillow. He doesn't want to wake up, but his body apparently has other ideas, because he is completely awake, his body nearly vibrating with energy. The last time he felt like this on Christmas, it was when he was a kid. After a few minutes of not falling asleep, John rolls over onto his back and he can't help but grin a little, excited to give Sherlock his presents and see what the man might have gotten him as well.
Not able to just sit there anymore, the doctor finally gets up, and paces his room for a moment before he starts to do some exercises, and an hour later even that is getting old, so he goes to take a shower, putting his presents beneath the tree and making sure all the lights are on, narrowly avoiding shaking one of the presents to try and get a jump on what he might be getting. He doesn't have the super sleuth powers of Sherlock Holmes afterall. But for now he avoids it, turning toward the kitchen instead and the stuff that he brought home the day before.
By the time Sherlock drags himself out of bed, it's to the smell of food being cooked in the kitchen, causing him to be temporarily confused. Due to the slight hangover that he has, which John did not suffer from due to their different tolerances and experiences with alcohol, Sherlock has to pause after he stands up to get his equilibrium, before he goes about dressing casually, seeing no need to put on a suit today since he is sure no one will see him. Even if he doesn't necessarily understand all the nuances of Christmas, he does understand that the city pretty much shuts down for it. And when he glances out the window and sees that it's snowing yet again, it only reinforces that fact.
"Morning." John says as he looks over at Sherlock once the taller man comes out of his room. "Breakfast is ready." He says as he points to where he made some coffee, getting the food onto two plates, having other things cooking for their own Christmas dinner. The holidays make John a little domestic it seems.
"You're up rather early. After the amount of alcohol we consumed last night, I would have assumed that you would have a rather sound sleep." Sherlock says as he goes to get himself a cup of coffee. Apparently he's getting into the habit of eating pretty much whatever John presents to him because he takes the plate without comment and sits down at the kitchen table, eating slowly.
Rather amused at the fact that he has gotten Sherlock eating - at least eating whatever the doctor provides him with - John gets himself a plate and sits down opposite Sherlock with his own coffee. Something he has found is good for hangovers, no matter how small or large. For a moment he looks at the detective and the smaller portion of food that John gave him, not wanting to scare him off eating and only wishing that the other man would seek out regular meals on his own. Still, progress is progress. More sleep and more food since John arrived, at least from what he gathered from the letters, and that soothes the instincts John has as a doctor.
"So, how does your family usually do Christmas, Sherlock? I mean, with the presents and everything. Mine always did it first thing in the morning after breakfast. And sometimes we got to open one on Christmas Eve." John says with a little grin in between bites as he looks up at the brunette.
Sherlock looks up, having been looking briefly through the newest newspaper, assuming that John retrieved it from the door. "We never got to open anything early. Normally after a formal breakfast, we would retire to the living room to open our presents. After which we would be free to pursue our own interests until dinner. That is our intimate family affair. Later on at night, my parents usually held a ball of sorts which our extended family attended, and after that if there were more presents we opened them and had to stay until family started to leave." he says casually as he looks at his newspaper. "Then it was back to mutually ignoring each other."
For a few moments, John stops eating and he frowns a little. "That sounds very cold, Sherlock. But at least we can agree that after breakfast we'll open presents." He says with a slight grin. "I hope that you like what I bought for you." He says with a small nod of his head, finishing his food before he gets up and quickly does the dishes, smoothly taking Sherlock's away when they're empty.
Slightly amused at the doctor's contained excitement, Sherlock sighs a little. "I suppose we should get on with it, then." he says before he gets up, refilling his coffee and heading into the living room toward the tree, frowning slightly as he realizes there are more presents than the night before. And of course he thinks of the implications of that, that someone - most likely his brother - might have entered in the middle of the night to add more presents. Slowly, he looks back at John for a moment, not wanting to worry the older man but at the same time feeling protective of his friend. If someone could get into the apartment so easily, even if it is his own family, then it means that John could potentially be in danger while he's here.
"Alright." John says, interrupting Sherlock's thoughts as he comes out from the kitchen. "You can go first, there's one present that I want you to open first." He says with a little grin as he puts his coffee down on an end table and steps over to the tree to pick up a flat, rectangular box before he brings it over to where Sherlock is sitting, holding it out to him.
Feeling a little awkward about this whole ritual, Sherlock takes the box and looks at it skeptically. For John's sake, he tries not to blurt out what is inside, instead he calmly opens it, and the contents surprise him a little because while he may have guessed it was - a scarf - he did not guess the particularly rich shade of blue, or the warmth and softness of it. He pulls it out of the box slowly and the nods at the quality of it. "Thank you." he says simply, putting it back in the box and putting it side.
"Well that was underwhelming." John muses with a shake of his head, but he sounds amused. "You're welcome, though." He says before he goes back to look at the presents. "Some of these don't have your or my handwriting on them... where did they come from?" He asks as he looks over at Sherlock curiously.
"Judging by who has access or potential access to my flat, and the anonymous way in which they were left, the most logical explanation is that those presents were delivered by my dear brother." Sherlock says as he looks out toward the window for a moment, seemingly disinterested.
For a few moments John stares at Sherlock, and decides to think about how incredibly creepy that is and the implications of such an invasion of privacy, or the fact that Sherlock seems perfectly ok with it. Instead, he puts those two presents to the side before he slides out one of the other boxes, on which he recognizes Sherlock's handwriting, simply with his name on it. "Alright.. let's see what this one is." He says with a little smirk as he looks up at the detective, before he starts tearing at the wrapping, much less neat about it than a certain detective was.
Inside the box is another box, interestingly enough, this one though is very nice, simple mahogany wood with a gold clasp and gold hinges. When he opens it, inside are 12 glass containers with small labels on them and various types of plants inside. Under the lid of the box is an explanation it seems. "Tea." John says in surprise as he reads it. "These are all different sorts of teas?" He asks as he looks over at Sherlock, rather in awe because he can imagine what this sort of set might cost, especially with the fancy packaging. "Bloody hell, Sherlock.. this is amazing... I think I might be reluctant to actually drink any of them, not like I can just pop round to a shop and pick some more up." He says with a small, nervous laugh, that being the first time that he's really mentioned the fact that very soon he'll be returning to Afghanistan.
"There is another present which is paired with that one." Sherlock says as he gets up and walks over, finally giving in and sitting down on the floor by the tree near John, reaching out for a more square box and putting it down in front of the doctor.
The box presented is opened as quickly as the first one was, and John gapes at it for a moment. "A tea pot?" He asks, looking at the picture on the box of a simple, clear glass tea pot which has a base that holds a candle underneath as a heat source. Made for company or something no doubt, it's small enough that it would still be perfect for two or three cups of tea, the sort of brewing that John would most likely be doing.
"Well, this is going to have to be shipped back to me, I don't trust those baggage carriers. Still.. blimey. This is perfect, Sherlock.. Thank you so much." He says as he reaches out and puts his hand over Sherlock's for a moment, giving the man's cool hand a squeeze with his warmer one.
Turning his hand slightly to clasp John's, Sherlock returns the squeeze and merely gives a small nod of acknowledgement before he pulls his hand back. "Perhaps we should see what my dear brother has in store for us." He indicates the packages to the side, trying to direct the conversation to something less difficult.
John just shakes his head a little and grabs another package from beneath the three, fiddling with it a bit since he's more nervous about this one. "No. I have one more present for you first. I know these aren't as extravagant as what you gave me, but I hope that you appreciate the sentiment at the very least. I just mean.. I hope you like them." He finally says awkwardly before he holds out the package to Sherlock.
After taking the package from John with a quizzical look at the other man's behavior more than what is in the box, he unwraps it, carefully and neatly, examining the way that John obviously took such care in wrapping everything himself when the detective merely had someone at a shop do it. Too soon, he pulls the top off the box and stares a bit at what he finds inside, glancing up at the blond in front of him. "John..."
SORRY! Ugh, so much stuff going on. My friend introduced me to a new TV show and I sort of got obsessed over that, then I got hooked back into Supernatural, and the way my brain is wired now, naturally I wanted to write a fanfic, so I was working a bit on that, which might be my next story I'm posting, and work has been crazy... Really, I'm just a horrible person for making you guys wait this long for this chapter.. I mean.. Christmas! And now I'm ending this chapter like this. But there is going to be so much more to this Christmas two-parter! I really, really hope you guys like it.
Also... I have over 500 followers on here now. Holy crap. I mean.. you guys... You are awesome. I remember seeing a fic once where the person had like 300 followers (before I started writing/posting), and I was kind of amazed at that point that the story was so popular. Never, in my wildest imaginations did I imagine so many people would like one of my stories. Especially since my first one got like.. 10 followers. Anyway, I just hope you guys realize how grateful I am for all your wonderful reviews, and your following, and sticking it out with me this far. Thank you. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and continue to enjoy this story. :)
As always, Reviews/Comments welcome!