25 Days of Christmas
Chapter 3
3 December, 2013
"Alright Sherlock," John called ahead of him as he trudged up the seventeen steps to the flat. Sherlock cringed in anticipation. "Tree time," John said, hanging up his coat. "You've been recruited."
"And if I refuse?"
"No cases until New Years then."
A scoff. "I'm a grown adult. You can't stop me from taking on cases."
"Watch me," John threatened with something of a growl in his voice. Sherlock noticed with annoyance that John's hands were on his hips. He sighed.
"How the hell does this even work?" Sherlock groaned from a pile of fake tree limbs.
"They're colour coded," John said, walking out of the kitchen with two mugs in his hands, both coffee this time. Sherlock took his haughtily and nearly burnt his fingers. He proceeded to scald his tongue. "Yeah, it's hot, genius." Sherlock's eyes flashed. "That's why you grab it by the handle and wait a bit." After setting his own mug on the coffee table (Sherlock had abandoned his in disgust on the floor), John sat down cross-legged next to his friend and started sorting branches. The shorter ones he handed to Sherlock. The detective suddenly realised that the tree was a good deal taller than John and cringed internally. That meant he would be required to help with all aspects of the tree, from putting it together, to decorating it, to taking it all apart again.
He groaned.
"Help me sort, this will go faster," John said in response.
Surprisingly, Sherlock did.
At midnight, they gave up the tree. Sherlock had experiments, and John needed some sleep. They had managed to sort the majority of the branches, which were now matched and in piles, but there was still a good deal to go through. Of course, if Sherlock hadn't complained the whole time, it would have gone faster. But, on the other hand, John would have thought something was wrong if he hadn't. Plus, it wasn't entirely Sherlock's fault. John was the one who had instigated a sword fight with one of the longer branches. That had taken a large chunk out of their evening.
"Night Sherlock," John yawned from the stairs.
"Night," Sherlock replied distractedly from the table.