Apologies for not updating in aaaages! I've had so much school work it's mental. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this next chapter and please give me ideas on what you would like to happen in future chapters! c:

Much to his disappointment, John awoke to find only himself in Sherlock's bed. He wasn't really surprised though, Sherlock didn't sleep much anyway. The doctor took in his surroundings: the room was dark and cold (as any winter's morning would be); John wrapped the dishevelled bed sheets around himself more tightly as he let his eyes adjust to the dim lighting. He eventually made out Sherlock's framed periodic table on the wall to his right as well as Sherlock's Judo certificate which rested above the headboard of the bed. He then shifted his eyesight towards the floor; it was littered with his and Sherlock's clothing. John couldn't suppress the smile that grew across his face, he certainly did make up for the time that he'd been gone.

After a mental debate of deciding to let the cold attack his bare body, the doctor hastily made his way to the end of the room to wrap himself in one of Sherlock's dressing gowns. It was thin and much too long for him.

He met an amused pair of eyes as he walked into the living room. Sherlock was sat in his armchair, sipping a steaming cup of tea with a newspaper neatly placed on his lap. "Good morning," Sherlock managed to stifle a laugh at the sight of John in the dressing gown. It was baggy, making John look much smaller than he already was; he also seemed quite uncomfortable in it. "did you sleep well?"

"Very," John smiled.

"Glad to hear it," Sherlock returned the smile, "fancy breakfast?"

"You're going to make breakfast?" John asked in astonishment.

"Pfft. Don't be absurd; I've asked Mrs Hudson to."

John rolled his eyes as he sat across from the detective. "Well I wouldn't mind some, I am rather hungry."

"Good, because I've already told her that." Sherlock placed his tea on the coffee table as he began to read the paper; he lifted the paper up so high that only his eyes could be seen above it.

"And what would have happened if I had declined?"

"An unlikely response, especially from you."

"How so?" The blond reclined in his chair.

"Well, you eat every morning anyway. Some food would also do you good considering you burned a hell of a lot of energy last night...Captain." A glint of mischief sparkled in Sherlock's eyes.

Sherlock's words caused thrill and heat to flood through the doctor's body; despite this, John cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Oh, and that dressing gown looks dashing on you, by the way." Sherlock's amused eyes peered over the top of the newspaper.

"Don't even go there," John replied defensively. "It's the only thing in your room that I could use to cover myself quickly with."

Sherlock's eyes suddenly met John's. "Hmm, I should have hidden it away then."

John chuckled as he kept his eyes locked onto the man's in front of him. "Going nude won't shield me from the cold though."

The detective grunted in acknowledgment. "My dressing gown though? Really?"

"It was the fastest thing to wrap around me." John defended.

"You're wearing the dressing gown I wear in the summer; it's extremely thin and ineffective against the cold due to obvious reasons. Your own clothes would have been warmer, and therefore worth the additional time."

"Why didn't I think of that?" John muttered under his breath.

"Because you're an idiot." Sherlock grinned widely behind the newspaper...

John was freshly washed and fully dressed when Mrs Hudson came up to the flat; she was holding a tray, atop of it were mugs, milk, sugar, toast and a tea pot. She had invited herself to eat with the two men in order catch up on John's experience in Ireland. As John excitedly spoke to the land lady, Sherlock watched silently, occasionally sipping his tea and nibbling on a slice of toast whenever John gave him a look of concern. Sherlock was fully aware that he wasn't going to get away with his clearly noticeable weight loss that had occurred when John had left. Despite the guilt that Sherlock felt, he couldn't help but look at the doctor admiringly; he found the glint of happiness in John's eyes as he spoke endearing.

"I'm delighted to know that you've had a good time there, John," Mrs Hudson smiled. "Oh! I almost forgot," she chuckled, "What are you doing for Christmas?"

Realisation had suddenly hit John; he wasn't aware of how quickly that holiday was approaching until now. He hadn't got anything for anyone yet. Including Sherlock.

"Oh, I'm not sure yet," John replied nonchalantly, "maybe a little get-together?"

"That sounds nice," Mrs Hudson grinned, "I was hoping you would say something like that."

She stood up and smoothed down her clothing before picking up the tray from the table. "Well I should clean up, we'll discuss it more later."

John nodded in agreement as Sherlock took a few last gulps of his tea.

As the landlady began to leave, she sneaked a wink at Sherlock, catching his attention. He quickly stood up and began to walk her out of the flat before John could.

"I've managed to get the wrapping paper you wanted!" She whispered.

Sherlock's eyes lit up, "Really? Marvellous. Keep it in your flat and I will get it later."

"Why can't John know? This whole situation is very strange, Sherlock." Mrs Hudson was becoming suspicious.

"Well, I've wanted to be a better person since I've come back. John has also helped me a lot with settling in again and tracking my health, I might as well thank him for it with a gift." The detective's cheeks burned.

"But why must the wrapping paper be purple?" The landlady was still slightly confused and a bit sceptical.

Sherlock smirked as he thought back to the Plum shirt that currently lay on his bedroom floor. "Let's just say it's a personal joke between us."

"Sherlock, I'm going out. Do you need anything?" John decided to get his Christmas shopping done sooner rather than later. He wrapped a thick coat around himself as he walked into the kitchen.

"Some nicotine patches would be marvellous." Sherlock replied, looking intently into his microscope. "Oh and milk, I need more bacteria samples from it."

"You know we're supposed to drink the milk, not harvest the bacteria from it in Petri dishes."

The detective quietly grunted in acknowledgement, clearly too focused in his work to defend himself. John sighed as he exited the flat.

The streets of London were crowded; the sky was grey and the air was bitter, causing the city to have a vibe of hostility. The doctor planned to get everyone else's presents first and leave Sherlock's until last as he was the most difficult and awkward to shop for, despite this, as John browsed the brightly lit shops, countless amounts of ideas for Sherlock's present spun repeatedly around in his mind, but all were eventually dismissed. Nothing seemed good enough for the raven-haired detective. John had stepped out of a jewellery shop when he checked the time, it was 3:45. John had spent nearly two hours shopping. He couldn't help but remember Sherlock's remark when he was packing too many jumpers in his suitcase before leaving for Ireland: "Does that make you the girl in our relationship then?" The blond smirked. His flashback was interrupted when an all too familiar black car pulled up in front of him; clearly from Mycroft. What could he possibly want at this time? He sighed before getting into the car and finally resting his tired feet.

"Good afternoon, John." The elder Holmes reclined in his chair across from John, looking immaculate as always. He wore a wine coloured shirt along with black trousers and a matching waistcoat. The clothing appeared to be of high quality and great expense; what's more, there was not a crease nor stray thread in sight, though this was expected, considering Mycroft was practically the British government. "Afternoon." John replied.

"You look exhausted from your shopping trip, John. Do sit."

The doctor willingly obeyed and sat comfortably in an armchair that was nearby. The cushions embraced his fatigued body.

"would you like a drink?"

"I'd prefer to know why I'm here."

Mycroft hummed in amusement at John's abrupt nature. "I've realised that we haven't spoken for a while, also you've had a job opportunity which I am rather curious about and I feel that we should be getting to know each other better considering you are in a relationship with my younger brother."

That was a response that John genuinely was not expecting, Mycroft Holmes just wanting a little chat? Unlikely.

"So what do you want to know about my trip?" John asked sceptically.

"Well was it good? Did you enjoy it?...Did you speak to Sherlock often during your absence?"

"Yes to all of the above." The doctor answered briefly.

Mycroft seemed to be lost for words. "I've spent money on your journey here, John. I am making the effort to see you, please humour me by looking at least a bit contented to see me."

The blond leaned forward, his elbows were positioned on his knees, his chin rested on his clasped hands. "Tell me the real reason why I'm here then."

The Holmes pursed his lips. "I've told you, I merely want a 'chit-chat' as you might say."

Silence soon flooded room as John eventually reclined in his chair, still unconvinced.

"So," Mycroft began as he picked up a bottle of whisky from the side of his desk and started to pour himself a drink. He gestured the bottle towards John as an offer but it was declined. "How are things going with your relationship with Sherlock?"

"Fine," John replied confidently, "in fact it couldn't be better."

"Glad to hear it," Mycroft smiled, though John was unsure whether the smile was genuine or not. "So I presume you are like, as they say, two peas in a pod? Do you finish each other's sentences and have long evening talks until the early hours of the mor-"

"We're a couple, Mycroft, not a Disney film." John chuckled.

"I see..."

"Mycroft, what do you really want?"

"What are you getting Sherlock for Christmas?"

John just stared at the man in confusion. "What?"

"I'm not sure whether you are aware of this, John, but despite our sibling rivalry, me and Sherlock have a tradition of getting each other a gift for Christmas. Now, I'm sure you know how painfully stubborn my younger brother is, you can't shop for him. He's too...awkward for gifts. I don't like asking for help like this, but I've hit a brick wall this year."

John endeavoured to stifle his laughter at seeing Mycroft in this position. Such an incredibly powerful and intelligent man can see no other solution but to consult his younger brother's boyfriend for Christmas present ideas.

"I don't know." John admitted, "Unfortunately, I'm having the same problem as you."

Mycroft nodded in acceptance but was obviously frustrated. He took a big gulp from his glass of whiskey. "You have no idea at all?"

"No, not really. That being said, I did look in Waterstones and I saw a book on psychological states and their influences, I wasn't sure whether Sherlock had it though so I didn't buy it. Maybe you could get him a book of some sort? A microscope? Organ tissue maybe? John joked. "He might actually like organ tissue, before I left, he asked me to get milk so he could grow more bacteria." The two men laughed.

"Yes, I remember when he was a young teenager, he had a great fascination with chemistry," Mycroft chuckled. "At one point he accidentally created a form of radioactive waste, to this day I still do not know what on Earth that idiot made."

"You know, I might bring that up to him, it would be funny to see how he reacts." John smiled.

"Please do." Mycroft poured himself another glass of whiskey. "Well thank you for your time, John. I will take your ideas into consideration. I particularly like the microscope idea, it may help him with his cases, you know how much of a high he's on when he gets a good case."

John's eyes suddenly lit up. "Yes," he replied, "well I must be going."

"Do come back again, maybe we should converse more often."

John nodded in agreement before leaving.

The doctor walked out of the building to find the same black car parked beside the pavement waiting for him. The back door was open and Anthea was stood beside it, her eyes glued to her phone. She eventually looked up at John whose hands were aching from the abundance of shopping bags that were pulling him down. He kept on replaying what Mycroft had said over and over again. 'You know how much of a high he's on when he's gets a good case.' The more that sentence echoed through his mind, the more excited John felt.

"Are you getting in?" Anthea asked, not bothering to even look up from her brightly lit screen.

John suddenly snapped himself out of his mind which was currently spinning out of control, a flurry ideas overwhelmed the man who was suddenly bursting with energy, despite his tedious shopping trip. He eagerly jumped into the car and dumped the heavy bags below him before pulling his phone out of his coat pocket. He dialled a number which he hadn't needed to call in months. As the streets of London sped past John in a giant blur, the phone started to ring. The blond waited in anticipation until he eventually heard a familiar voice respond down the end of the phone. "Lestrade. Hi, it's John..."