Work Text:
“Why is this even a tradition?” Sherlock demands, staring at the atrocity before him.
John, wearing said atrocity, is all smiles. “Because it’s fun,” he responds, trying not to laugh. Sherlock’s face really is too funny when he’s reluctant or conflicted about something silly, and this certainly fits the bill.
“I’m not sure I’m ready for such a display of…whatever that is. Is that a penguin?” He reaches out and points at a bird in a bowtie.
“No, it’s a seagull in a suit,” John decides, examining the figure.
“Oh, of course, how could I have been so silly?”
“But it is silly! That’s the point, love. I think you might really like yours.” His pleading eyes have always been too much for Sherlock, who concedes with a huff.
John leans forward and plants a quick kiss and Sherlock’s cheek before turning to the wardrobe and retrieving a flat white box. It’s not labeled, but no one seems to get these boxes unless they’re gifting someone clothes, if that’s really what you can call these…things.
Suppressing a scowl, Sherlock takes the lid off the box to reveal…a plain black jumper?
“John, this isn’t ugly at all,” Sherlock muses, confused. He grabs the collar of the garment and lifts it from the box, revealing a tumbling red cape hung from the back. He cocks an eyebrow at John who erupts into laughter.
“You’re Super Sleuth!” he announces, tugging the cape into a more presentable shape. Draping from the collar of the jumper to nearly the floor, this cape would put Superman’s to shame.
“Super Sleuth? Really, John, I thought you were cleverer than that,” Sherlock responds, grimacing as he examines the material.
“You can wear it over a button-up, don’t worry if it looks itchy. And that was quite clever thank you very much. An ugly jumper party should include properly ugly jokes,” John responds, nodding as if the matter has been settled.
“Do we have to go to the party?” Sherlock asks. Despite his preparedness to argue the matter, he strips off his jacket and climbs into the jumper.
“No,” John responds honestly. His eyes are wide and a smirk dances at his lips as he leans forward on his tiptoes and presses his chest against Sherlock’s. “But isn’t it more satisfying if I rip all your clothes off tonight after spending the evening wanting you, rather than just jump right to it?” he breathes.
Sherlock fixes him with a steely gaze for a moment, eyes moving around John’s face. Finally, he sighs. “No,” he replies. “There’s nothing satisfying about waiting to rip this horrible thing off. But if you find me utterly irresistible in it, then I suppose I can go along with your strange games.”
John smiles dastardly and a short laugh escapes his lips as he pulls away from the detective. “Very well, you bastard. Let’s go drink some nog with the Yard then. It’ll be well worth it, I promise.”
Sherlock rolls his eyes and waits to smile until he’s quite sure John can’t see it. Fortunately, this also provides ample opportunity for him to survey John’s ample rear as they head out the door.
“Perhaps,” he agrees.