A/N: Hello, people!
I don't own Sherlock.
I have no beta.
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-Sassy John is best John.
2 December 2015, Wednesday:
Sherlock had waited very patiently for this hour to come. He was sat on his bed, staring at his door. An hour. He'd been there for an hour, simply waiting for the clock to hit six so he could open the next present. The number two was situated on the opposite end of the tree, making the viewer have to actively search it out. he'd found it in a second of course and had committed all the numbers to memory already.
Sherlock wanted to the see the next photo, but knew he'd have to wait patiently. He could do it. It was like awaiting the effects of an experiment. Some time and then a pleasant outcome, for him at least.
The digital clock beside his bed beeped. He'd set the time to ring when it was okay to look. Exactly twenty-four hours from the last time he'd looked.
He pushed the button and stood, calmly making his way over to the decorative tree that simply hung there, like a minor taunt in his face. He grasped the small handle on the velvet gift and pulled it up.
It was John, as expected. He was clothed much like the former photo, except this one he was sweating, the obvious stains on his clothing. His shirt was torn in several places, revealing little amounts of skin to the viewer. He wasn't covered in blood or anything terrible, but Sherlock couldn't help but want to see what he'd look like while covered in someone else's blood.
His enemies slain.
It was a very primal mental image he was creating and he liked it very much. John without any worries about society's feelings. John just being himself and not thinking about who could possibly be seeing him while he's so improper.
While Sherlock liked the idea of John embracing himself to the fullest, he only wanted John to act in such a way when in the comfort of their flat. No one else should have the privilege of seeing John so open. Not his boring, dotty girlfriends, or the Yard workers, of even Mycroft and his CCTV eyes.
Sherlock was the only one who fully understood John so he should be the only one enjoying such a scene.
Sherlock left the room, feeling much better now that his curiosity had been partially sated. There was still twenty-three days to go however.
John refused to look at him. Not when he walked in, not when he grabbed John's laptop in a very open gesture, and certainly not when Sherlock decided to sit in his chair - directly across from John - and conduct his business there. John was still as a statue, though not as cold. He was simply embarrassed and Sherlock had no inclination as to why.
John was pleasing to look at and he was more muscular than his jumpers let on. The doctor was attractive so there was no need for him to be so emotional over the whole situation.
John folded the paper and stood. "Tea?" he offered.
Ah yes, because when things were going wrong, John fortified himself with tea.
"Please?"
Why not be nice and butter him up a little before the inevitable conversation that was weighing so heavily on John's conscience?
The man went about the offered task and only when both had taken a sip of tea, did he speak. "So… you've seemed to find an interest in my Advent Calendar."
"Obviously."
"And you seem very intent on finishing the game up till the end."
"Yes."
John cleared his throat… twice.
"And would you… be interested in the prize if you win?"
Sherlock looked up from the laptop, allowing his John to see the smirk on his face. "Very much so, John."
The doctor straightened in his chair. "Well then… you'd better work for it, remember the stipulations."
Yes. He had to romance John and not start any fights during the game. He could do that.
Sherlock gave one sharp nod.
John stood, collecting the tea. "Well then, I look forward to your suit."
He sauntered away, leaving Sherlock feeling like he'd just walked into some kind of death trap. But then again, death was his forte.
A/N: Another is done!
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