Sherlock 1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: Hello! I've decided to do a Sherlock advent calendar, even though I'm four days late. Check each day for a new short story about the boys and Christmas. Some days might have two stories to make up for the days I missed. Any higher rated chapters will have a warning at the beginning. Hope you enjoy! **_

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**Holiday Movie**

"I love when the holiday specials start showing on telly."

Sherlock rolls his eyes and resumes cleaning his lab equipment. "Yet another childish tradition you wish to keep, John."

"Oh, because the Holmes family was above Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer."

"Never once did my parents tell me such lies."

John laughs. "You're a stick in the mud every Christmas season and this year that is going to change."

Sherlock delicately sets down a beaker. "And how do you think that will happen?"

"We'll start with the holiday films. Elf is showing tonight and you _will _watch with me."

"I am not clogging my brain with something called _Elf._"

"Come on, it's hilarious! You'll enjoy it, I promise. It's about to start, I'll make popcorn and hot chocolate."

Sherlock shakes his head. "I won't watch it."

"Fine, you can sit in there and claim you're too _whatever _for holiday films, I'll be in here watching."

John wanders into the kitchen for his snacks. Sherlock watches as he boils enough water for a single, lonely mug of hot chocolate, then he watches John cover the top with mini-marshmallows. Sherlock licks his lips at the finished product.

"Say, John-" he starts.

"Only people watching Elf get hot chocolate."

With an annoyed sigh, Sherlock says, "Fine. I'll watch your stupid film."

John makes Sherlock his own mug of hot chocolate and makes a bag of popcorn, all while sporting a satisfied grin on his face.

They sit down for the movie and Sherlock is hooked about ten minutes in. In the end, he says watching holiday films wouldn't be so bad and asks what is playing on television tomorrow night.


	2. Chapter 2: Something Red

**Something Red**

"I want you to open a gift early."

John skeptically eyes Sherlock. "Why?"

Sherlock nonchalantly inspects his fingernails. "Because it's a gift for me as much as it is for you and I'm getting impatient."

"Of course it is," John mutters. "Well, you can wait until Christmas. Because it's only the second and I didn't even think you were buying gifts yet."

"I purchased these weeks ago, I just—"

"_These_?" John questions, leaning back in his chair at the sitting room desk.

"_It_, I meant."

"No, no, you said _these_. And I know that because I, unlike you, have impeccable hearing."

"My hearing is not the point of this conversation, besides I can hear perfectly well."

"Right, you just choose not to hear me half the time."

"Again, not the point. I know what you're trying to do."

"You will eventually get annoyed that I am saying no to opening this gift, then you'll worry about something else. I was simply trying to divert you early."

Sherlock leans back in his own chair and crosses his arms. "Now think, John. This gift will benefit you as much as I. I said _these. _Can't you deduce what the gift is?"

"I don't want to."

"Why not?"

"Because you want me to."

Sherlock smiles. The smile shouldn't mean anything to John, but he knows it's a mischievous grin and he knows there's something coming to him. This grin implies the foreplay has begun.

"So it's sexual," John says.

"It might be."

John grins back at Sherlock. "We don't really use toys unless we both know about it, no surprises. So clothing, obviously."

Sherlock smiles wider.

"And _these_ means there's two, a pair of something. Socks aren't sexy whatsoever, neither are trousers or jeans or any other items of clothing that come in 'pairs. Except one."

Sherlock leans forwards in his seat and rests his chin on his knuckles.

With a small smirk, John asks, "Are they red?"

Sherlock glances down, as if he could see John's lower half through the wood desk. "You do know how I love your arse in red."

John laughs at the un-Sherlock-like words. "Then you can give me an early gift this evening, as long as I can give you your early gift next week."

"Hmm," Sherlock sighs. "Are they purple?"

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**_A/N: Had to make something red the famous red pants! If you don't know about the red pants, google Red Pants Monday. _**


	3. Chapter 3

**Weather**

"Jooooooohn," Sherlock sighs for the third time in just as many minutes. "Fix it."

"Fix what exactly, Sherlock?"

Sherlock glares at the window, where thousands of tiny white flakes are gathering a minute. "That," he says, half audible due to half of his face being burrowed in his arm.

"I can't control the weather. Have your brother get on it."

"I've tried," Sherlock mutters, throwing himself out of his chair.

John is occupying the sofa, and though he's doesn't take up the _entire _sofa, it's still a majority of Sherlock's spot. So, instead of asking John to move, Sherlock throws himself now right on top of John.

John huffs as the air leaves his body. "God, Sherlock, get off!"

Sherlock mumbles something but John can't hear it because Sherlock's face is buried in the crook of his neck.

"Why do you hate the snow so much anyway?" John asks, taking the approach now to actually _talk _to the mad detective about feelings.

Sherlock's head pops up so suddenly that John jumps. Sherlock's elbows rest by John's shoulders so his arms cradle John's head.

"Because even criminals hate the snow, John. Because when it snows this hard, nobody leaves their homes so nobody has a chance to be mugged or murdered."

"You say it like it's the same as winning the lottery or something."

Sherlock's hands squeeze John's face. "Actually you're more likely to be murdered than you are to win the lottery."

"So I should stop buying lottery tickets and start looking for death around every corner?" John's words are barely understandable because Sherlock is squishing his face, but Sherlock can understand him.

"You should stop buying lottery tickets because you have a gambling problem."

John scowls. "I do not!"

"Fine, we'll shelf _this _discussion for another day."

Sherlock gives John a quick peck on the lips, then he sighs and rests his head down. On John's face.

"It's just dreadful, John."

John works his face out from under Sherlock's and shifts to look out the window, too. Sherlock's head is still on his, but he doesn't want to lose this proximity to Sherlock.

"I think it's romantic."

"Romantic?" Sherlock asks, intrigued.

"We're stuck in here all day, no clients or visitors. Just you and I, a fire, some tea or hot cocoa. Huddling together for warmth."

Sherlock snuggles impossibly deeper against John. John wraps his arms around Sherlock's waist.

"I suppose… this is nice," Sherlock concedes.

John smiles. He turns his head as best he can and presses a kiss to the corner of Sherlock's mouth.

"It's not so bad. And it'll stay a while so we had better get used to it."

Sherlock lifts his head to look down at John. He's got a look in his eye that John can never resist.

He rubs his nose lovingly against John's. "Can we start with the cocoa?" he asks.

John laughs and swats his back. "You arse. Fine, let me up!"

Sherlock hops up instantly, then John leaves for the kitchen to make hot chocolate.

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**_A/N: So I guess I'm in the mood for hot chocolate this holiday season. Really far behind, but I'll catch up. Thanks for reading_**


	4. Chapter 4: Handwriting

**Handwriting**

"Sherlock!"

Sherlock pops his head through the bedroom, doorway. "Yes?"

"What's this?"

Johns holding up a wrapped present. Sherlock shrugs.

"It says, 'To John'."

"Then I guess it's for you."

"Wow, I'm glad you're the detective," John mutters.

Sherlock glares at him. "You're the one who asked what it is. Clearly it's a gift."

"What I mean is," John continues. "We agreed no more gifts until Christmas. The red pants were…" John grins briefly. "Anyway, we agreed that'd be it."

"That's not from me."

John stares at him. "Who's it from, then?"

"Maybe it's from… what are those things called… ah, elves. Maybe it's from an elf."

"Don't tell me you've deleted elves."

"Every December 26th they get deleted, every December 1st they're back."

John can't help but laugh. "Anyway, Sherlock, I'm aware this is from you."

"You are not."

"The tag's in your handwriting!"

Sherlock doesn't say anything, but his eyes don't leave John.

"Maybe," John says with a sly smile, "It's from Mycroft…"

"Ok!" Sherlock cries, annoyed at the mention of his brother's name. "It's from me. I just want you to have it."

John sighs. "Love, we agreed."

"Most people like gifts from their loved ones."

"I…" John pauses because there really isn't any reason that he should say no to early gifts, but John hasn't even gotten Sherlock any gifts yet and he feels guilty.

"Just open it," Sherlock says. "I want you to open it. Even though it's from me and not an elf."

John gives in and opens it a while later, after thanking Sherlock for even thinking to get him a gift at all.


End file.

Sherlock, Humor, Romance