John likes Christmas. He likes all holidays, actually. Sherlock doesn't care for holidays. Never has, probably never will. Holidays are something he just pushed into the back of his mind, unlike the Solar System. He wanted to remember his childhood holidays, and from his and John's first Christmas together on, he wanted to remember.
Their first Christmas together began rocky.
Rocky?
It started out with an idiot and an ass.
"What the hell is that?" Sherlock The Ass said as he stepped into the living room the afternoon of December 13.
John The Idiot put down the blue ornament he was holding, "It's a Christmas tree."
"Why the hell is it in my living room?"
"Well, I-"
"Why the hell, John?"
John frowned, but didn't move. He gave Sherlock the annoyed look. "I like Christmas. Just because you don't doesn't mean I can't-"
"I never said I didn't like Christmas."
"What do you have against my tree, then?"
"It's a waste of time and space."
"That's really mean, Sherlock. I've been working at this all day."
"Are you serious?" Sherlock laugh whistled, "You've been doing this all day?"
"Yeah. What's so funny?"
"You're an idiot."
John frowned even further than before. "Ok, you don't have to be so mean."
"God, John, it's distracting me from insulting you any further."
"Alright, alright. Stop it."
"I really can't stop, John. It's awful. Just dreadful."
"Please stop, Sherlock."
"No wonder it took you all day. It's pathetic. You-"
"Shut up, just shut up! What is wrong with you? I wanted to do something nice for you, for us! And you insult my tree and I," John put the box of ornaments he was holding on the coffee table. Without looking at Sherlock, he went to the coat rack and put his coat on, "You're such an ass," he muttered at Sherlock.
Sherlock didn't look at John until John called him an ass. "John, I," he turned around and grabbed John's wrist.
John didn't say anything, he just left.
He returned on time for bed. Well, it was 3 AM and Sherlock was going to bed. Sherlock was actually very tired, and he had been waiting for John for a long time. He laid his head on John's pillow as he heard John's keys click in the doorknob.
He heard John sigh very loudly when he realized Sherlock didn't wait up for him.
He heard John flick the light switch on.
He heard John gasp.
Somehow, he felt John smile.
What John saw was an entirely decorated living room. Lights were hanging from the ceiling, across the mantle, across the windows. John's tree was finished and glowing. Garland was hanging from the frame of the kitchen entryway, it sparkled with the glow of the living room. It was Christmas.
John nearly ran up the stairs, tripping as he reached the landing. He opened the door of Sherlock's room and toed his shoes off, tiptoeing inside.
"Sherlock?" he whispered.
"Hmmm?"
"Did you do all of that for me?" John was now standing over Sherlock and breathing down on him. Sherlock liked that.
He looked up into the face of John. "I did."
"Why?"
"Because I'm sorry."
"Thank you, sweetie." John smiled.
Sherlock smiled back, "You're welcome, John." He rolled over on his back and John climbed on top of him. "Oh, John," Sherlock looked up and John followed his gaze at the mistletoe hanging from the ceiling.
"You romantic fool."
"So, I'm not an ass anymore?"
"Of course you are, but for now I forgive you." John kissed Sherlock.
"Lucky me, then." Sherlock kissed John.
From then on, Sherlock did his best to make holidays with John special.