When the food is ready, John gets up and stretches, having had to endure Sherlock yelling at the TV, which is amusing if a bit trying at times. Once again he returns to the kitchen and he smiles a little, surprised that when he looks back, Sherlock has a sketchpad out and a small box of different pencils. Seeing this, something inside the doctor relaxes a little bit, and he goes about finishing the meal preparations. Instead of making them eat at the table, though, he instead puts the food on the table, and says, "Food's ready, Sherlock. Not sure what you like, so don't make me make a plate for you."

Reluctantly, Sherlock gets up and puts the sketchbook aside, going to the kitchen to make himself a plate of food. If there was ever a time to indulge, he figures now would be it. "Thank you." he says after a moment of silence, being helpful by pulling out trays from beside the fridge, handing one to John before placing his plate on his own and returning to his chair.

"Of course. So what's in that present your brother gave you, that's so horrible?" John takes the tray with a small nod. "Cheers." He says before he follows the detective back to where the TV and chairs are, settling down to start eating. He knows there will be lots of leftovers, but he figures no one ever suffered from having leftovers.

The look that Sherlock gives John is one that is both a little surprised and shows that he is a little unhappy with the question as well. "Your curiosity is the driving force behind your chosen profession, John. However, I fear you would be disappointed by the answer to your question which would require some explanation into my childhood which I think would be ill advised, given the frivolity of the holiday you seem to enjoy so much." He says as he glances at John. "Let us merely settle on the answer that Mycroft is reminding me of an incident in our childhood. The present is designed to make me feel inferior to him." He says as he finishes eating a few bites of his food and then sets his plate aside.

"Ah. So in simple terms, he's just being an annoying big brother." John says with a little snicker as he stretches his legs out. "No matter how smart you are, siblings are always the same, seems like." He says as he looks over at Sherlock for a moment, then smiles again. "If it bothers you that much you should just return it to him, or throw it out." He says slowly, not liking the idea of any gift being thrown out, but he figures that if Mycroft was that mean on Christmas, he deserves it.

Sherlock smiles slightly as he has some thought, before he responds to John. "Oh, I have already formulated a plan in order to, as you might say, return the favor." Steepling his hands in front of his face, the detective leans back in his chair a little, staring blankly out in front of him.

Chuckling a little as he leans back in his chair, John watches the younger detective's profile for a few moments. "Going to share with the class, or do I just have to guess? I wouldn't mind seeing that arrogant prick getting knocked down a few notches." He says as he gets up and gets a little more food on his plate before he returns to the chair. He is definitely going to eat while he can before he has to go back to army food, which is not really that appetizing sometimes.

"You do not need to assist me, John. This is something better accomplished on my own. Mycroft is more powerful than you might think, and while mostly I find his methods annoying, having him looking into your life too closely is unnecessary. You have better things to be worrying about, John." Sherlock states, not looking at his friend as he picks up the sketchbook again, leaning over to pull over a foot stool so he can prop his feet on it, and his sketchbook on his knees, wiggling his feet to get them comfortable for a moment before he starts finishing the sketch he was working on before dinner.

A small shake of his head is given as John finishes his second plate of food and listens to the detective, watching him closely to try and learn his mannerisms and moods, the things you can only learn by seeing someone, but that you can sometimes sense through the letters. "Glad to see you haven't stopped your sketches." He says honestly, before he looks at the TV. "At this rate, I'm not sure I'll be able to stay awake for Her Majesty's speech." he says quietly, the excitement having worn off, with the addition of a stomach full of food and turkey means that he's feeling a little sleepy. Still, he forces himself to get up and at least cover the food even if he doesn't put it away just yet.

For a moment, Sherlock looks up at John, then he looks back at the TV. "What does it matter? It's the same every year." He grumbles about the speech before he goes back to his sketching. "I find the sketching somewhat useful for what I remember from crime scenes, I can highlight the important aspects of it. Even dimwits like Lestrade can understand what I'm referring to, then." He says in an offhanded manner, glancing up again to watch John cover everything up.

"I hope you do it for more than just work, Sherlock, you're bloody good at it." The doctor says as he returns to his seat. He hesitates before he shakes his head. "I mean.. I just hope you enjoy it." He clarifies, thinking his first sentence didn't sound how he intended it.

With a slight glance sideways at the doctor, Sherlock looks back at his sketch, finishing it off and then flipping the page over. "Ah. Looks like your speech is about to begin, John." He points out, avoiding the conversation about his artistic ability, leaning more in that direction than his brother, who definitely leant more toward social genius.

And with that, the older man's attention is diverted, and John picks up the remote to turn up the volume. However, as he predicted and much to his shame, halfway through the speech his head has lolled down as he drifts off into a food coma-induced doze, where he seems content to stay for a while.

Hearing a small snore coming from John's direction, Sherlock snaps out of his little zone, his eyebrows going up. For a moment he watches the soldier, finally getting up to walk to the hallway closet, digging around the unorganized mess before he comes back out and lays an afghan over John gently, and props a Union Jack pillow behind is head to make him more comfortable, before he goes to his desk and his laptop, deciding to do some research on whatever latest idea has popped into his head.

I think there will just be one or two more chapters to part 1, before I switch over to part 2. :) And once again, sorry for the delay. I have become addicted to World of Warcraft again and it's cutting into my writing time. But don't worry, winter is coming soon, and I will want to do very little besides stay curled up under my blankets and write. That, and I only have this story active right now, so that helps me narrow my focus as well. :)

Thanks for your reviews, and follows, as always, I am happy that you guys like it!

Reviews/Comments welcome as always!