Sherlock had spent weeks hunting down the perfect gift for John. Limited knowledge of sentiment had led to many fruitless searches of department stores and tiny shops alike, and all of them yielding the same lackluster results. Finally, he'd found precisely what he was looking for. A jumper, something soft and comfortable like John preferred to wear, but in a sharp blue color he never bought, one Sherlock knew would look good on him. At first Sherlock had intended to wrap it and place it under the tree Christmas Eve, along with the secondary gift he'd gotten John, but a few days before Christmas his plans changed.
John never got out of bed; he rolled. Right out from under the covers and onto the floor. He claimed it was unintentional, but Sherlock maintained that nobody could do it with such frequency and aim without doing it intentionally. On the twentieth John had rolled out of bed and to the wardrobe only to find a small surprise waiting for him.
"Sherlock…" Sherlock sat up in bed. That was John's exasperated voice, and it rarely boded well for those on the receiving end, especially one dark-haired detective. "Were you experimenting with moths at any point recently?" John asked, stepping back so Sherlock could see the state of the wardrobe. Moths covered every surface, fluttering from cloth to cloth, obviously having chewed through most of the jumpers already.
Sherlock began to chuckle. "I- I may have been experimenting with them a month or so ago," he managed, trying desperately to keep a straight face. John scowled.
"It's not funny, Sherlock, what am I to wear to work today, if my entire wardrobe has been eaten by moths?" That's when the idea had struck. Sherlock bounded out of bed –no foolish rolling for him- and sprinted into the living room, where he'd concealed John's gift beneath the tree. He ran back into the bedroom and thrust the package into John's hands.
John smiled gently at the wrapping job before looking back up at Sherlock to make sure it was all right to open. When Sherlock nodded, he neatly cut the tape with a fingernail and unwrapped the gift. He made a small noise of joy at gift before he pulled it from the wrapping and unfolded it, holding it against himself in surprise. He leaned over to kiss Sherlock on the lips. "It's perfect, love," he said, pulling it on and yanking on a pair of trousers. "But you're still in trouble over the moths."