1. The Christmas Tree

    This is my imput for the Sherlock Secret Santa - Merry Christmas, nessiethenerdfighter! - It’s 1070 words of domestic Johnlock. It’s also my first Sherlock fanfiction and I never thought I’d write Jonlock so I’m sorry for the few words, I honestly wanted to do more, but I hope you like it!

    (not-betaed, not-britpick, Gen)

    John was humming to himself, bending the artificial branches of the Christmas tree into a more natural-looking shape. He stole a look at his laptop, wishing he could put some Christmas-y songs to make everything more authentic, but he knew better than to impose that kind of music to Sherlock. Last time he had, the non-stop comments on the player’s skill or the signer’s voice had been enough to put a stop to it but the two days of picking apart the lyrics had been enough to put John off the Christmas Spirit.

    He was not about to be put off this year. He had acquire a beautiful tree that filled the space between the two windows of the flat and fully intended to enjoy decorating it. The nice fire and the cup of eggnog would have to do.

    John was almost done with the Christmas balls when Sherlock wandered out of the bedroom in his nightgown.

    “Good morning!”

    “Hmm…”

    “Still bored, then?”

    “Stupidly so.”

    “You could help me with this, then!”

    John looked at Sherlock from the corner of his eyes, trying to conceal his smile. Sherlock had stopped in his track, noticing the tree for the first time, with a small expression of horror on his face.

    “I’m bored John, not gone mental.”

    “Eggnog?”

    Sherlock let himself fall on the nearest chair, affecting a disgusted air.

    “You should shot whoever smuggled that awful beverage for you.” After a murderous look at the tree, he added “I really don’t see why you persist in wanting to observe a tradition that celebrates the Original Sins. Although maybe that is exactly why you are celebrating it…”

    Sherlock raised his eyebrow in a suggestive manner, at this. John stood there, gaping at his flatmate.

    “I honestly don’t know where to begin with that sentence. No, right, I know exactly where to start: You learned the origins of the Christmas tree and you never cared to delete it, but the solar…”

    “Really, John, when you insist on imposing this ridiculous tradition on my every year, how could I possibly hope to forget about it?”

    “Right.”

    John blinked a few times, willing his brain to let go of the subject as it was obviously counter-productive to his ‘Stay In The Spirit’ plan to argue with Sherlock. He didn’t even want to know about the origins of the tree. He just wanted the tree.

    He finished putting the balls in the branches, successfully ignoring Sherlock muttered comments about apples.

    When he got the lights out of the bag and saw that they, inevitably, were all tangled together, John passed a good five minutes trying to untangle them, only to have the untangled part fall down on the floor to tangle back with the rest. This was getting frustrating. Which was very not much in his plans for today.

    Shooting a look a Sherlock sprawled form on the couch before looking back at the mess at his feet, John came to a decision. With a short nod of his head, he picked up one end of the line, untangled a bit of it and hurriedly looped it around one of Sherlock’s feet. He ignored the taller man’s protestation and cries of outrage and continued to untangle the lights, walking backwards. Sherlock could protest all he wanted; John had noticed he didn’t even try to free his foot.

    He coiled the lights around the foot every time he got a meter or so untangled and, when it was finally done, took the end and started artistically rolling the line of light around the three. John tried to limit his smile to a small tug on the side of his lips that wasn’t on Sherlock’s side when he realised that Sherlock bended his foot every time the line became taunt, this way freeing a little bit more while letting the rest of it untangled.

    When John was done with the tree, he put the rest of the lights around the fireplace and plugged it in to watch the effect. He went to check on the garland box, carefully not noticing Sherlock’s eyes and the decidedly not delight in them as Sherlock looked at the tiny lights. John saw it every year – and quite frankly it was pretty much why he bothered with all the fuss decorating around Sherlock in the first place – the delight the detective seemed to be exhibiting over something as plebeian as Christmas lights, like a kid would, just warmed John a little bit every time.

    As he started to wrap the garlands around the tree, Sherlock got up from his chair with a deep sigh.

    “You might as well do it properly if you bother to do it at all, John! The garlands represent snow on the branches, how do you think snow can hold at that angle?”

    John stepped back as Sherlock unwrapped most of the garlands and put them on John’s arms to start and do it ‘properly’ himself. John didn’t say a word, fearing it might make Sherlock realise he was actually helping with the decorations, and let his flatmate fuss over the garland. He wished he could film this. Good blackmail to get Sherlock to do the dishes once or twice, maybe. Not that he would show this to anyone. That was his Sherlock. The side nobody else but John was allowed to see and John intended on keeping it that way.

    When the garlands where finished, twenty minutes later, Sherlock stepped back to appreciate his work and give it a firm nod of approval. He took a breath and turned to John, but before he could get anything out John put the Santa hat he was hiding in his pocket and put it on Sherlock, shutting him up, and put a little peck on his lips.

    Thanks for helping with the decorations, love.”

    Sherlock blinked and, with a fond smile, wrapped his arms around John.

    I love it when you’re devious. Tea?”

    John laughed, know it wasn’t an offer to make tea, but a demand to have some.

    There still is eggnog…”

    If I wanted to poison myself, John, I would certainly not choose that horrible brew. There are poisons that tastes better. Tea.”

    With a smile on his lips and a parting squeeze on Sherlock’s arm, John went to make tea as he listened to Sherlock putting the Santa hat on the skull, where it belonged every year.


    (can also be found here, on AO3)

     
    1. nessiethenerdfighter said: okay I just finished and it was VERY cute! and you did a fantastic job for your first fanfiction! thank you so much, and merry Christmas!
    2. froggybangbang posted this