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“We need Christmas decorations.” John sighed. He looked around their living room, it looked so un-festive. He had gone around for nearly an hour searching for any possible place Sherlock could have hidden any Christmas themed things, and failed of course. He should have expected it, but part of him kind of hoped he would find something.
“Why? That horrid looking elf you’ve placed next to my skull is well over enough festivity.” He looked over at the elf. It was pretty much the only thing he actually brought from his little old flat. He named it frisbee. Mostly because he knew it would annoy Sherlock, and because he thought it was funny.
“That elf is so old it’s barely Christmas themed at all.” John sighed. Sherlock peered over at it and made a face. “Look at it! It’s hideous.”
“Exactly, why do you need even more hideous themed things to match?”
“Why exactly do you hate Christmas? For someone who goes it’s Christmas! whenever you’re excited, you seem to hate it more than anything.”
Sherlock didn’t answer, he just resumed his pout and twisted over his spot on the couch.
John sighed, “Whatever, be that way. I'm going out.”
“Where?” Sherlock grumbled as John grabbed his coat and slipped into his boots.
“To buy Christmas decorations!” He yelled from halfway down the stairs. He didn’t hear if Sherlock answered back, the door was already slammed behind him.
~
When John arrived at the store, it was almost completely empty; neither people nor decorations were anywhere in sight. It looked weirdly barren, like a zombie hoard had just run through and eaten everything. He looked around and sighed. There must be at least a couple of good things here, I just... have to look hard enough.
He grabbed a cart, got looking, and immediately spotted a shelf with a few dozen small little trinkets over it. There were not many things he would usually buy, though there were some things that he knew would piss Sherlock off. He added those things to his cart.
He was picking out about 3 or 4 little porcelain cats with scarves when a little green bush caught his eye. Was that a mistletoe? Oh, absolutely this is worth all the decorations I didn’t get here in time for. He grinned and threw it into his cart along with the other petty things he personally found hilarious. That was pretty much all he needed, so he turned around and began walking towards the cash.
~
He exited his cab, handing an appropriate amount of cash to the driver before jogging to the door. While his grocery bag slid down his arm, he excitedly jammed the key through the front door and jiggled it a bit before it opened. That key never worked immediately, but it was so much more annoying than it should have been whenever John was excited about something.
Once he reached the top of the stairs, he glanced around the room. Sherlock was nowhere to be seen. John started scavenging in his bag Good. That will just make my job here much easier.
~
Sherlock walked the streets of London aimlessly until he found himself in front of a bench, the same bench he and John often sat down on when they went one walks together. Soon after the detective's mind wandered back to his doctor and the bickering that had taken place earlier. He did not understand, why was John so adamant about Christmas decorations of all things?
Maybe it’s a nostalgia thing, John is the type of person to celebrate with family. He pondered for a moment. No, John never goes out for the holidays, if he valued family over me, he would leave me for Christmas. Sherlock frowned; he was never confused. Nothing stumped him, nobody. Or nobody except John Watson and his stupid Decorations. He was probably home by now, setting up the stuff he bought.
The “decorations” he bought were no doubt crappy little trinkets, stuff like cats with scarves. Mostly because Sherlock guessed all the half decent decorations were definitely sold out by now, but also because Sherlock hated that type of stuff. John knew he hated that type of stuff.
He turned around and began to walk home.
~
When John heard the door open, he panicked a little bit. He had not expected Sherlock to be home yet, and he stupidly decided to prioritize his other little mini things before the mistletoe. The cashier at the store was not quick, she continuously made comments about the “lucky lady” he was buying this thing for. He had just awkwardly stood there trying to ignore her comments.
Sherlock appeared at the top of the stairs, staring down through the doorframe. His hair was a bit messy, clearly, he had not taken the time to properly fix it up before going out. Or he had gotten into some sort of fight, both options extremely plausible.
“What are you doing?” Sherlock paused; he had clearly seen the mistletoe John hid behind his back like a child. Annoyingly, he most likely wanted John to tell his plans aloud.
“What do you mean by that?” Fine then, Sherlock wanted to be annoying, he would be annoying right back.
“Oh, you know perfectly well what I mean.” John didn’t budge. “Standing in the doorway with your hands behind your back, John you look like a- mphh!”
When Sherlock was busy shutting his eyes and babbling on, John had swiftly stepped up to him and raised his arm to hold his stupid little bush above both their heads. He also took it upon himself to use it correctly, and kissed the soft lips presented in front of him.
Sherlock’s eyes shot open and went wide but he soon eased into it as well, letting John take the lead. Just as he attempted to shift his head sideways for a better angle, the doctor moved away and stalked off back into the flat.
John felt proud of himself, he had yet again been able to surprise Sherlock Holmes. Even though it was just a small feat at this point, considering Sherlock melted into him every time. It was always difficult to pull away though.
He turned his head to look back at the detective, he was letting his jacket slip off and hanging it on the coat hanger. He had a frown plastered over his face, as if he were a cat who just got its ball of yarn taken away from it. The man was no doubt thinking of a way to get back at him, and he quietly looked forward to that moment.