"I really need a shower", John groaned when they had resumed breathing.
"No you don't", Sherlock answered with a wicked smile, "We need to go see if Santa is here yet."
They padded out into the living room, naked and blushed.
The tree was lit, as was the fire. In front of it was a thick and comfortable blanket.
Their Santa was sat on the sofa, dressed only in his hat and a red bow.
Santa looked a lot like Mycroft, thoughtfully nibbling a thin dildo.
"Is this a special sort of carrot for my reindeers?" he drawled when he saw them. He stuffed the dildo away and smiled. "No, really. I wanted to give thanks for my Christmas presents. Am I to thank one..." he measured them up and shifted to the edge of the seat, "...or both?"
Mycroft's presents had been delivered in blister pack. They were small, effective and baby blue.
All evidence showed that he had tried some for breakfast.
Their Santa was hung like a bull.
Sherlock and John looked at each other, licking their lips.
"Both!"
When John was a child he often lay awake impatiently waiting for Santa to come. This Christmas morning he also impatiently waited for Santa to come, but this time when he finally did come – he came from behind.