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25 December 2015, Christmas Morning
Their first Christmas together since John's return is very unlike their last one together three and a half years ago. They don't have a party with their friends, Sherlock isn't playing music on his violin, and most of all there isn't a plot involving Moriarty or one of his cohorts.
There are barely any decorations around 221B. John and Sherlock have agreed that they don't really have the need for them this year. This time they have a small fake tree decorated with only three ornaments (all snowmen, lacking creativity Sherlock says) and the skull on the mantelpiece is wearing a Father Christmas hat and beard. Soft, Christmas music drifted through the flat setting a romantic and holiday atmosphere. The room is dim, lit only by the fairy lights on the tree and the sunlight drifting in through the window.
"Hmm," Sherlock hums as John feeds him some fried egg. The morning is perfect with just the two of them sitting on the floor in front of their tree alternating between eating, kissing and opening presents. Sherlock is just dressed in his blue silk robe, his toes curling into the new plush carpet they had put in not too long ago.
"This one's from…" John looks at the card attached to the neatly wrapped package. "Mrs. Hudson. Would you like to unwrap this one or shall I?"
Sherlock shakes his head before feeding John some of the black pudding off his plate.
"And it's… oh, I suppose this is her idea of a gag gift." John holds up a Swiffer duster and refill kit, frowning.
Sherlock rolls his eyes, "Next." He is clearly bored of this process only doing it for his partner's benefit. Yet he kept eyeing the new high powered microscope that John had given him for Christmas, itching for the first chance to get to test it.
"Hold on," John grabs his jumper from the back of a chair. "Getting a bit chilly isn't it?"
Sherlock raises an eyebrow. "Are you coming down with something?" He feels John's forehead. "It's unseasonably warm this winter, it hasn't even snowed once. No reason for you to be feeling cold."
John smacks Sherlock's hand away. "I'm fine Sherlock, alright? I am a doctor. I'd know if I were coming down with a cold."
Sherlock grasps John's wrist and pulls it up to his lips kissing the pulse point. "My apologies, John. I did not mean to demean your medical skills. I was only worried. Please forgive me?"
John smiles, leaning forward to capture Sherlock's mouth. "I'll always forgive you." He twists around and grabs the nearest present. "This one's from your brother—"
Without any sort of warning Sherlock growls deep in his throat, grabs the oblong-shaped box from John and tosses it to the other side of the room.
"I amend what I said," John scowls. "Almost always. Why the bloody hell did you have to go and do that?" He winces as he gets up to retrieve the present. "Oh that's a bit odd."
"Hm?"
"Well, you know how the weatherman said it was going to be about 20 degrees today?"
"Yes, John why is important?"
"I think he got it a bit wrong..." John points to the window. "Look Sherlock."
Slightly irritated, Sherlock stands up to get a better view of the window. He gapes, completely aghast. "No, this defies all logic. There's been a heat wave. A warm front. There's absolutely no way it could be snowing in London right now. It's impossible."
John smiles, "Nothing's impossible… if—" He races toward the window, inhales deeply, then without uttering a word dashed out of their flat.
"John! John!" Sherlock cries. What had he seen to make him leave their flat in his pajamas and bare feet? He hurries over to the window and nearly fainted. He has memorized that police box and that man thousands of times from stills and video over the years during John's absence. The man who had taken John away on the rooftop of Bart's.
The Doctor.
So many thoughts travel through Sherlock's brain in a matter of seconds. Why is the Doctor here? Did he want John? Didn't they have a falling out? Why is John excited to see him again? Did John want to go back to the Doctor? Did he miss travelling? If he did, Sherlock is willing to travel, he'd do anything for John. Maybe it isn't that. Perhaps John missed his ex-lover and wanted---
"John!" He chases after his lover, not bothering to put on shoes. He takes the stairs two at a time and isn't very surprised to find that the front door of 221 is wide open, the snow starting to drift in. God the snow is freezing on his bare feet. Sherlock bites the inside of his cheek to keep from yelling out. He runs until he is beside John, clutching his side.
They were a few meters away from the Doctor and his police box. John and the Doctor are just staring at each other in silent communication, keeping Sherlock out of it.
"You're saying goodbye." John says, his voice slightly distressed.
"Yes."
The Doctor's voice is nothing like what Sherlock had imagined. He's British. Properly British, how can an alien be British?
"You're dying." John states as though he's said this to his ex-lover too many times before.
"Yes," the Doctor repeats.
"For good this time," John clarifies. "Not like I'll be there in time to restart one of your hearts or… You're really---"
"Dying." They say together.
John hitches his breath, opening and closing his fists. He wants to do something with his surgeon hands. "What can—"
"Nothing," the Doctor gives a weak smile. "The regeneration process is already begun, John. I'm just doing my best to slow it down enough so I can see everyone for one last time."
"A reward?" Sherlock suggests.
The Doctor glances over at the detective as if he's seeing him for the first time and can't hold back his big grin. "Sherlock Holmes, the 21st century's most brilliant mind." He crosses the distance between them and shakes his hand vigorously. "Pleasure to finally meet you after all this time. It's an honor. Although you might want to close your dressing gown, we're not in Buckingham Palace," he winks. "I do hope that I brought John back safe and sound?"
John rolls his eyes. "You were three years late."
The Doctor sobers for a moment. "Oh... oh!" He scratches the back of his head, "Well, I suppose I did give the helmic regulator a few more twists than necessary." He pouts before turning to John and smiling again. "How do you like your Christmas present?"
"What?" John asks quizzically. "What present?"
The Doctor sticks out his tongue and catches a snowflake.
"The snow!" John exclaims. "That was you? Of course it was you. But how?"
The Doctor digs into his coat and pulls out a strange device that light up blue. "Screwdriver. You got your white Christmas after all." He groans, grabbing his chest and doubling over in pain.
Sherlock and John rush to his aid just as giggling and screaming children begin to pile out of their homes and play in the snow. They half-carry the Doctor across the snow to his TARDIS. A few children point and laugh at the two grown men in pajamas and bare feet helping another to an old police box.
When they stumble into the TARDIS, the Doctor falls onto the jump seat clutching his sides and breathing heavily. John feels like he's back at an old friend's house, not quite home but it's comfortable all the same. Sherlock is astounded by what he sees. He's whirling around with his mouth wide open. "My God! An organic machine that is able to travel in five dimensions! Five, if you count time, and you have to don't you? This is not just a spaceship but a living thing! It's so complex! The equations involved! The circuitry! Oh--oh! Doctor, what a marvelous beautiful creature you have!"
There's a low humming noise that surrounds them as well as a low vibration.
John smiles at Sherlock and grasps his hand. "She likes you too."
Sherlock chuckles as he gazes around the TARDIS drinking in the sight of her. The look on Sherlock's face was boyish, exciting.
John whirls his head as he hears the familiar clicks of buttons and saw the Doctor leaning over the console. "Whoa, whoa, what are you doing!?"
The Doctor looks up at him as if in a haze and then returns to his task. "I'm getting ready for my last stop, John. I don't have much time left."
"What can I do?" John asks. He lifts a finger, stopping the Time Lord from answering. "And don't say nothing."
The Doctor is silent. He rests his head against the console and groans deeply. The Time Lord stands up stoic, even though he is holding on his side. He looks between John and Sherlock and smiles so brightly that the stars shine. "You two, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. You two are the crime-solving duo that ever existed. You will be legendary. You are legendary. Brilliant. Sherlock," the Doctor addresses the detective specifically. "Take care of him. He means a lot to me."
Sherlock grabs John's hand and squeezes. "John means more to me."
The Doctor pouts, but nods. "Well, I need to ah, need to make my last stop."
"Will we ever see you again?" John crosses over and stands in front of his former lover. He reaches out, but doesn’t touch the Doctor.
The Time Lord can't help but flinch when John says we instead of I. "You never know when I might show up." He bent down and kisses John's forehead. The Doctor swears he hears a predatory growl from Sherlock. "I meant what I said, John. You do mean a lot to me. I'm sorry for the ways things ended."
John smiles. "All in the past."
"John."
The two doctors turn to see Sherlock standing by the door, stern looking and impatient, despite that he's stroking the wood paneling of the TARDIS.
"I think it's time to say goodbye," the Doctor says sadly.
John shakes his head and sniffles. He walks away a few steps but stops and faces the Time Lord. "What about your friend? What happened to Donna?"
"She got married."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be," the Doctor deadpans. "It was for the best."
The Time Lord turns away from the pair and continues tuning the setting for the TARDIS. John takes one last look at his former lover, then jogs toward Sherlock and they exit the time machine.
They are only a few feet away when the familiar whirling, groaning sound starts. Sherlock grabs John's waist and holds him tightly. They watch with amazement as the TARDIS flickers in and out of like a light bulb, then is gone.
John grasps Sherlock's face, pulling him down into a kiss. It's a sloppy, filthy kiss full of desperation. When they pull away, the pair immediately notice that a bunch of young children have their mobiles out and are taking photos and videos of them. They'll be youtube sensations. Again.
Their eyes meet and they burst into laughter, holding hands as they ran into their flat in their bare feet.