Chapter Text
It was cold outside. Snow covered the roads as people bustled about, eager to finish their last minute Christmas shopping.
John had left early that morning, giving Sherlock some half baked excuse about meeting some friends for a drink. He was almost certain the detective saw through his lie, but if he did he didn't say anything. As he walked through the shopping districts he couldn't help his gaze drifting to all the lights strewn about. Sherlock would've loved to see them, John knew it was one of Sherlocks favorite parts about the holiday. *Maybe I could take him to see the lights this Christmas* John thought, a faint blush playing on his face.
He wasn't sure when it started. The lingering glances, the way his heart raced every time he saw the detective. He would find himself staring whenever he would talk, memorizing every detail. The way his hair curled, the small scars on his face from getting into fights, the way his eyes would light up when he was telling John about his interests. They had been friends for years, the two becoming so close John could hardly believe their was a time Sherlock wasn't in his life.
It was nearing late evening when John finally found something for Sherlock. It was a small model train resembling a Victoria line train. It was fairly expensive in johns opinion, not that he really minded, not if it made him happy. He quickly paid for the gift, making sure to cover the top of the gift bag with tissue paper. John hummed to himself as he left the store, it was dark out now, the once busy streets now starting to slow down. He trudged through the snow, shivering as the wind started to pick up. He knew he should've brought a better jacket, although he hadn't expected to be out so long. The streets were nearly empty as he neared the residential streets. He figured it would be easier to get a ride if he was away from the crowds, give the driver an easier place to pull over. John quickly breathed on his hands, warming them before pulling out his phone to grab a ride share.
A sharp pain shot through him as something hard cracked against his head sending him sprawling forward onto to cold pavement. His phone clattered out of his hands, the screen still on, portraying his last message to Sherlock, telling him he was on his way back to their flat. John turned his head towards his attacker, he could only make out a silhouette before the weapon came down again, plunging him into darkness