And here comes the mandatory Christmas Cuddles Chapter. Every story in the Quadrology that is the "Genius"- verse has one, actually! All recognisable content belongs to its respective owners.
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John woke up with a big, warm smile on his face. Christmas morning had once more become almost as exciting as it had been when he was a boy. Sherlock was not in bed with him, but judging by the smell, he was merely cooking a very delicious breakfast. The former army doctor did not doubt that his favourite genius would be back very soon.
It was not even ten minutes later when Sherlock padded back into the room, unusually - but not unheard of these days - not wearing a shirt. The genius did not care to smile in greeting like John did, but he handed him the tray and gracefully flopped back onto the bed, burrowing in under the blankets and coming very close, and the doctor knew him well enough to interpret that as just the same thing. Between the two of them, they had agreed a long time ago that clear-cut honesty without any degree of nonsense was always the best way to go (Sherlock was rubbish with subtlety anyway, John thought fondly), and after all this time, they knew each other so very well.
They ate breakfast - toast, scrambled eggs, bacon and sausages - while they opened their gifts, both of them looking even more forward to something else, just as they did every Christmas morning since they started with their private tradition. At least John hoped it was mutual, as he had an uncomfortable feeling that the first year of this tradition had been a little bit like torture for Sherlock.
"No, I like it too" there suddenly was a whisper, right at his ear, and Sherlock rested his chin on John's head, handing him a gift that even wrapped obviously was yet another jumper. Starting to unwrap the gift, John noted "but it was difficult for you, especially the first time". "Tiring, yes, less so now, but I have always enjoyed being touched by you, John" Sherlock admitted in a rare moment of true, heartfelt honesty without a hint of distain for sentiment.
"Good" John didn't feel the need to say any more, instead starting to gently card his fingers through Sherlock's long locks, smiling for himself when this made the genius close his eyes in an unguarded moment of pure enjoyment. John of course took advantage of it to kiss him, grinning in success as this made the genius startle in surprise.
John then gently felt down Sherlock's sides all the way down to his legs, eventually reminding the detective of the procedure done with injured horses, mumbling softly but soothingly about muscles and why it was important that Sherlock should take care of himself, explaining things about muscle groups and biological processes which Sherlock already knew about, but rarely if ever thought about in regards to his own life.
Dull as that was to think about, and it really was, he did enjoy John's voice almost as much as he enjoyed his fiance fussing about him, not that he would ever admit to that, even at gunpoint. Nor did it matter, as he had little doubt John knew, anyway. After all, as he said, and he was very rarely wrong, John always knew.