Merry Christmas everyone! This is a Johnlock HC requested by Areli Braun. Hope you enjoy! ~Baron Hotschaft Von Hugenstein ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Sherlock walked into his flat with a bag in each hand, feeling exasperated and uptight. JOHN! GET DOWN HERE! he bellowed, needing some recognition for the horrors hed just endured. YOULL NOT BELIEVE WHAT THE STORES ARE LIKE THIS EVENING! EVERYONE IS RUNNING AMOK TRYING TO BUY TURKEYS AND HAMS! I WAITED FOR ALMOST THIRTY MINUTES JUST TO GET INTO THE CHECKOUT, ALL BECAUSE SOME CASHIER WHOSE WIFE IS GOING TO LEAVE HIM NO MATTER HOW MANY TIMES HE TRIES TO DYE AWAY HIS GREYS COULDNT OPERATE A REGISTER TO SAVE HIS LIFE! He sighed and grumbled to himself, Youd think that with people thinking Christmas Eve is so bloody important theyd pick up their hams sooner. John still hadnt replied, which grated Sherlocks nerves. JOHN! ANSWER ME! I GOT YOUR BLOODY MILK, NOW BE GRATEFUL! There was laughter in the kitchen archway. If youd just take a look around, youd see Im right here, you cock. Sherlock spun and almost dropped the milk and eggs. He wasnt used to being startled. John was leaning one shoulder on the archway, wearing a new Christmas jumper he hadnt had on that morning. Sherlock cleared his throat and attempted to disguise his incompetence. Well...you should have said something sooner. He handed John the bags stiffly. Here you are, your groceries from hell. John laughed aloud as he took the bags. For a man that brags about his ability to observe, you sure dont look around much. Sherlocks brow furrowed. Only then did he look at the fireplace. Leafy green tinsel dangled from the shelf above, ensconcing his little skull, and two stockings were nailed into the wall. When did you... Sherlock turned and almost had a coronary. How had he missed that?! A huge pine tree was brushing up against his desk, fully decorated with lights and baubles and stars. Mrs Hudson helped me decorate it, although she was useless getting it up the stairs, John said casually. I know you said you wouldnt tolerate any formal Christmas décor this year, but since its our first one being...well, you know... Together, Sherlock finished quietly. He damned his heart for how it fluttered at the word. He wasnt quite used to his emotional responses to John: the goosebumps, the skipped heartbeats, the way his tongue stalled when their hands brushed or they shared a heated kiss. John insisted it was normal and he would learn to enjoy it by and by; or at least, hed half-joked, I hope so. Sherlock looked at John and really studied him. He deduced that the tree was real; there were small green needles on his slacks, and artificial trees didnt shed. Hed probably purchased it from a seller in the city, because there was no dirt on his old loafers. But there were no needles on his jumper--in fact, there wasnt anything on the jumper, not even lint--which had to mean that the jumper itself was brand new. Sherlock surmised that John had bought it a few hours ago, along with the tree and the stockings. I assume that Im not the only one who braved the Christmas Eve madness today, Sherlock said formally. That explained the wild milk-and-egg goose chase John had sent him on. Are you deducing me, Detective? John smirked. Sherlock blushed, another feeling he wasnt quite used to. John put the groceries in the fridge and returned with a tray of hot tea and biscuits shaped like little Santas. Mrs Hudson made them, he said to Sherlocks questioning look. Oh, good, then theyre edible. Rolling his eyes, John set the treats down on the coffee table and sat down, eating a biscuit. Uncomfortably, Sherlock followed suit. Im sorry I didnt tell you about any of this, John said after a moments silence. He was staring at the tree and looked anxious. I know you dont like surprises. Oh no, I adore surprises, Sherlock corrected him. But only the pleasant ones. Triple homicides, Andersons resignation, things like that. John smiled. So...what kind of surprise is this? Sherlock thought for a moment. Hed never much cared for Christmas past age seven; Mycroft had made sure of that. Still, this wasnt a typical Christmas of his parents being far too cheery and Mycroft whining about everything in the corner while Sherlock was forced to watch Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer on repeat. This was quiet, with a real evergreen tree and a man who understood and returned his fondness for macabre and extraordinary things. This is the good kind, Sherlock stated, and John surprised him by sighing with relief and whispering oh thank God. What? Did you think Id be upset? I dunno, maybe. Youre unpredictable. Sherlock glanced at the tree that had taken him completely by surprise. It seems you are too. John tugged lightly on Sherlocks forearm until, with a faked sigh of resignation, the detective laid his head on his boyfriends shoulder. He felt a pair of lips press against his curls. Merry Christmas, Sherlock Holmes.
Posted on: Thu, 25 Dec 2014 12:30:00 +0000
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