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“What does Mrs. Hudson like?”
“John, why you think I should know such a thing is beyond my understanding.”
“Oh bullshit it is. And you’ve known Mrs. Hudson far longer than I have.”
Sherlock paused in his violin playing, looking back at John at the kitchen table, “While that may be true, I am fairly certain Mrs. Hudson does not have any more husbands she needs placed on Death Row.”
“Funny, that.” John rolled his eyes, scribbling out something in a notebook, “So we have no idea what to get Mrs. Hudson for Christmas.”
“That much is obvious.” Sherlock shook his head, setting his violin down.
John rubbed his temples slowly, “What if we pay for her to take a nice trip somewhere? Maybe to Paris—”
“She doesn’t speak French, John.”
“I’m just trying to make a suggestion.” John groaned, “Why is this so hard?”
Sherlock didn’t answer, merely watching John. If Mrs. Hudson was hard to find a present for, then John was impossible. Sure, it was well within Sherlock’s ability to deduce what John needed (he could never have enough jumpers, perhaps a few well tailored suits, if John were the type to wear suits), but what John wanted…that was a different beast entirely.
Another gun, perhaps? No, it would just be a hassle for John to keep the weapon unregistered.
“Maybe we should take Mrs. Hudson out to a nice dinner and you promise to be on your best behavior…”
“Mhm…”
John blinked, “Sherlock, are you even listening?”
Sherlock looked at John, “Absolutely.”
“I doubt that, because you just agreed to be on your best behavior while we take Mrs. Hudson to dinner.”
“Oh, well, perhaps that is what Mrs. Hudson needs for Christmas.” Sherlock shook his head.
John paused, getting up from his seat, “What’s the matter, Sherlock? You seem a bit distracted.” He walked across the flat, taking Sherlock’s hand and giving it a small squeeze.
The consulting detective looked at his hand intertwined with John’s, “I suppose it is a little trying, attempting to take part in such trivial traditions such as gift giving.”
John chuckled, “Oh yes, it’s completely pointless to show the ones you care about through a gift.”
“An inanimate object—”
“—not all the time—”
Sherlock shook his head, “Such a hassle to find the right thing for the people in your life. So many trivial items in the world, selecting just one…”
There was a moment when John simply looked at Sherlock, “Why do I have the feeling that we aren’t talking about Mrs. Hudson anymore?” He smiled softly, kissing Sherlock’s cheek, “If it’s any consolation, I don’t know what to get you either.”
A smirk pulled at Sherlock’s lips, “You know me, all I need is a good dead body and a puzzle to solve.”
John snorted, “Yes, well, I doubt I can buy a dead body without arousing suspicion.” He smiled, “Do you need any new chemicals for your experiments?”
“I’m sure I can think of a few things I could use…” Sherlock smirked, “And you? I take it there are things you might need?”
John leaned against Sherlock, his head tucked under the genius’s chin, “I think I need a nice sturdy jacket.”
“Military grade?” Sherlock chuckled, “Somewhere you can hide a gun holster?”
“Something that can withstand all the nonsense we put up with on a daily basis.” John rolled his eyes, kissing Sherlock’s cheek, “And now we know what we can get each other for Christmas.”
“I don’t suppose it would be considered cheating,” Sherlock looked at John curiously, “That we asked each other, I mean.”
Surprisingly, John laughed, “Sherlock, we cheat at a lot of things, including death. I think cheating at Christmas rules, if that’s such a thing, is hardly worth noting.” He smiled softly, “There are more important things to this season.”
Something in Sherlock warmed at the thought and, as he kissed John, he knew it was true. There were a lot of things more important than a simple gift.