Chapter 2: Christmas Tree
Sherlock lay on the sofa with his hands clasped on his stomach and was staring at the ceiling. His thoughts were circling around John and wondering why the doctor was over 45 minutes late in getting home. The sound of the main door to 221B opening caught his attention. Instead of hearing it close a few seconds later, he heard something heavy being dropped on the ground. The sound of cardboard being scraped across the floor came next with the door finally being closed seconds later.
At the odd sounds, Sherlock raised an eyebrow and looked toward the door. The sound of John, he would be able to recognize that sound anywhere, and an extremely heavy object ascending the stairs invaded the flat.
Once John and the object he was hauling reached the door, Sherlock stood up and put his hands in his pockets. He now knew exactly why John was late. "No!"
John set the box on the floor and pushed it into the flat and out of the way of the door.
"I said no," Sherlock repeated glaring at the large box in disgust. "I do not want that…thing…in this flat." He whirled around and picked up his phone which was on the arm of the sofa.
John glanced from the box to Sherlock, who now had his complete attention turned to his phone. "Sherlock, be reasonable."
Sherlock's hands paused on his phone and he looked to John. "I am being reasonable. Things like that do not belong in this flat. They don't belong anywhere, actually, except maybe a skip." He looked at the box with distaste then returned his attention to his phone, walking slowly to his chair.
"It's almost Christmas," John stated, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Even if it was Christmas, that thing would still not be allowed in this flat."
"I'll put it in my room, then."
Sherlock quickly glanced at the box. "It won't fit and you know it."
Biting his tongue against the urge to yell at the detective in anger, John instead took a few deep breaths. "You know what? Fine. Fine! You win. Like always." Without another look to Sherlock, he began the trek back out of the flat with the box to return it to the store.
Still looking at his phone, Sherlock smirked. It was easier than he had anticipated.
Having waited patiently for forty minutes, which was definitely hard for Sherlock, he finally heard the tell-tale signs of John returning. He placed his phone on the arm of his chair and sat looking expectantly at the door. The moment John stepped foot into the room, Sherlock watched as a handful of emotions, some he didn't recognize, cross John's face.
John looked from the beautiful, definitely live, undecorated Christmas tree in front of the window by the sofa to Sherlock who was watching him carefully from his chair. "I don't…"
"You honestly believe I would want some artificial plastic tree gracing this flat when we could have a live tree?" Sherlock sniffed deeply. "Granted, some artificial trees can look real, but only a real Christmas tree can smell like a Christmas tree."
Shocked speechless, John's eyes moved back to the tree. He walked a few feet to the sofa and sunk down.
Sherlock leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I had expected the tree to be delivered here yesterday evening, but the storm yesterday halted its travel."
John brought his eyes back to Sherlock. "I was under the impression you didn't do Christmas."
"I don't." Sherlock looked pointedly at John. "But you do."
"Why didn't you tell me about the tree? It would have saved me the hassle with the one I bought. Not to mention my anger."
Biting his lips, Sherlock looked away. "I wanted it to be a surprise."
"I'm definitely surprised." John jumped up from the sofa in excitement. "Let's decorate."
If you happen to have anything you'd like to see, please let me know. There's no guarantee I'll write it, but I just might.
