"So what does your family normally do for Christmas?"
We had slept in and were now eating lunch back in our room. I say we, but I was not participating in normal lunchtime activities.
"What do you mean by 'normally do'?"
"You know, traditions and stuff?" said John. "My mum made blueberry muffins every Christmas morning. The smell would wake us up and me and Harry would race each other down to the tree for breakfast. After our presents were unwrapped, we would always make a snow-family in the front, if there was enough snow of course! I guess that's all over with now," John replied, lost in memories. "So, what about you?" he prompted. "You and Mycroft have epic snow fights or something?"
"Snowball fights? No, of course not. I haven't been home during the holiday break since before I started school."
John gaped at me.
"What? No Christmas pudding? No - no time with family?"
"Time spent with my family isn't much to get excited about," I replied.
"What have you done all these years? You couldn't've just sat in a dorm room all alone on Christmas!"
"That's exactly what I did, John. Unless my attention was needed elsewhere, of course."
John forgot about his sandwich and stared at my face, disbelief resolving to determination easily shown on his.
"I- You will- That's just- I can't believe that- That's it!" he cried, startling me. He grabbed my shoulders. "Sherlock! You are going to have a proper Christmas this year if it kills me!"
The manic, gleeful look on John's face did nothing but unnerve me.
A proper Christmas? What exactly does that entail?
John made his way to his bedside table, looking all around and in it while I pondered what he had in store for me.
"Sherlock?"
"Mmmmm?"
"Remind me to get jam next time I go out, I seem to have lost mine!"
He missed the smile cracking my face.
I got a break in my case.
A few weeks ago, Mrs. Hudson recommended my services to a book club member of hers, a Mrs. Willis. She lived alone and had little family to speak of, and 'just didn't know what to do!' as Mrs. Hudson put it.
Her dilemma, a trivial one, was of missing mail. She would hear the mail come through the door, walk through the kitchen to get it, only to find nothing there. No bills, no letters, nothing. I immediately suspected a thief, but who would want to steal these meaningless items? A theory formed after a quick walk through and around the premises and I had promised her to be back this morning to catch the perpetrator.
The plan went successfully. As always.
The woman was so happy, if somewhat embarrassed at the results. I managed to escape in a reasonable time and head back 'home' to John.
John. He... he's a miracle, I suppose. I wouldn't have thought that anyone would ever tolerate me like he does. It's so new to just have a friend to talk to, much more so a boyfriend. I don't deserve his affections or his friendship, but he doesn't seem to be leaving anytime soon. For that I was endlessly grateful.
And here I was, hours before Christmas, with no gift for him.
The thought stuck me halfway through telling a cab to drop me off at school. I changed my directions and began brainstorming: What would John want?
Hats and scarves were out of the question. Too pedestrian for our current relationship, but something useful then? He wasn't in to performing experiments (why, I didn't know,) he had a laptop and plenty of school supplies. Clothes are never a fun present to get... Think Sherlock! What does he like to do?
Ahah! Of course! It would be perfect!
I do just despise shopping. Dreadful business, really. John's gifts were safely tucked away in Mrs. Hudson's office (she wouldn't mind) and I made my way back to the dorm I shared with John. I could only hope that he would like the- Mother of All that is Blackberry Jam, someone had vomited red and green decorations all over our room.
"John! What have you done?"
To my immediate left lay a box overflowing with garland and shiny pieces of plastic. Another box sat on my bed filled with baubles and glass balls of all sorts. A Tesco bag was on my desk; and, most alarmingly, a small Christmas tree adorned the bedside table of John, recently relocated next to the window. To my right, however, was a much more interesting sight: John, wrapped in what looked to be a mixture of ribbon and a string or two of lights, smiling sheepishly at me.
"I've, er, decorated a bit," he blushed. "Do you, ah, like it?"
Picking up my jaw from its previous position on the floor, I nodded.
"Great! Now, um, could you give me a hand?" he held up the knot of Christmas in his hand.
I walked over to him and assisted in his escape, the action allowing me to find my voice again. "Why- Where did you get all of this?"
"Oh, well, I made a trip into town! Stopped by my house, no one was home thank goodness, and picked up the rest at a Tesco. I though I'd, you know, surprise you."
"Ah." He did it for me, for a proper Christmas. A rush of feelings surged up my spine, warming my torso. I tugged on his bonds, possibly making the knot worse. "Get that jam you needed?"
"Dammit! That's what I went out for too!"
I smiled.
"So where have you been? I though that you'd be back by the time I got here."
"The case," I said, concentrating on the mess in my hands, "I solved it. It was the first theory I came up with."
I filled John in on all of the details. He loved hearing about my little mysteries. He said that they'd make great stories, but I doubt anyone would be interested.
"So I waited halfway up the stairs from the door, hidden in a shadow until the mail came. Promptly at six o'clock, the mailman tramped up the stairs and shoved three letters though the door, landing them on the mat. It had taken Mrs. Willis 45 seconds to reach the mail before, but I told her to stay away this time. Who would have access to these letters? What would anyone want with her junk mail?"
"Identity theft, maybe? She's just a little old lady."
"I had dismissed that idea immediately, it didn't seem right. Why all the mail for an entire week? It would be so noticeable, too sloppy for any crook. So I waited. 15 seconds in, a sleek, small black figure darted to the mat, grabbed the letters, and darted back where it came from. My theory was proved so I made my way down through the kitchen to where Mrs. Willis was in the process of making a scarf-like object."
"What was it? You said darted, small, what could it possibly be?" John looked at me, engrossed in the mystery.
"Obvious isn't it? Little old lady, lives alone, no one to visit her, knits?" I finished with the knot and John stepped out of his bonds, moving to hug me. An action I gladly reciprocated.
He looked up at my face, not releasing me from the hug. "Who did it Sherlock!"
"Her cat, of course."
"What?"
"She was pregnant, a fact unknown by Mrs. Willis, and was nesting. Due to the neatness of the flat and Mrs. Willis' near-sightedness, Minerva had no choice but to steal mail that she could shred into a bed. She was rather embarrassed when I told her, and tried to give me a heinous looking puce-green hat she had knitted. Luckily, I avoided that punishment and came back here," I finished, rather proud of myself for being correct.
"Minerva the cat? Hilarious!" John laughed, then looked at me. "That was- you're just brilliant, you know that right?"
I blushed, hugging him a bit closer. He released me and picked up the lights from where they had fallen.
"So! I was just about to decorate the tree-"
"Mmm-hmm," I said, taking off my jacket and gloves.
"Do you, uh, wanna help me?"
He held up the lights at me, smiling and looking all... John. How could I possibly refuse?
"Alright."
He handed me one end of the lights and we wound them around the tree, as they apparently went on first. John put the cord close to the outlet, explaining that it's better to wait until you're finished to turn on the lights.
He brought the box of ornaments closer and handed me one, hook already on. A bright red, shiny glass bell hung from my fingers.
"Erm," I said, embarrassed, "where do I put it? Just anywhere?"
John looked seriously between me and the tree. "Oh, no Sherlock. No, it has a specific place, you see. The tree must be perfectly in balance and colour-coordinated, each ornament must be arranged by type and size along the length, and placed closely enough to the lights to make each one twinkle! Did you not know this?"
I stared at him, dropping my hand. Could it really be this intric-
Oh.
Of course.
A joke.
John was blushing with the contained peels of laughter behind my hand. Looking dejected, I turned away.
"Oh Sherlock, I didn't mean anything! I'm sorr-"
I turned to him, showing my face. Cracked in a smile.
He dropped his jaw as I started laughing, soon joining in until we were a mass on the floor. After composure was recalled to our minds, the rest of the ornaments soon found their way to the tree, covering the poor thing in a mixture of gaudy green, gold and red.
One tinsel fight and two broken lights later, our little Christmas tree was up and twinkling. As the only light source in the room, a faint reddish light was cast over the room and John's face. He hadn't stopped smiling the whole night and I was happy to have put it there.
"Breathtaking, isn't it?"
I agreed silently, holding my cheesy remark back. I settled on kissing him again.