I imagine John and Sherlock on the sofa, Anita on the floor, and Mycroft in a stately armchair, surveying the ruckus like a king.
Yours
Presents were unloaded into people's laps by Anita. John could see that she was excited, and he knew that this came from her desire to see others happy. It warmed him each time she put a gift with lemon-yellow wrapping on Sherlock's or Mycroft's lap.
He was surprised when she began handing packages to him. "What's this?" he asked amusedly, putting the gifts next to him and looking at her curiously.
"They're yours, obviously," intoned Mycroft with an air of regality.
John's eyes widened. "I couldn't possibly-"
"John," said Sherlock, reaching out and touching his shoulder. "Relax. We want to give them to you."
Prompt was from thetravelinglemon, and it was: lemon