A New Scarf - BBC Sherlock
summary: Christmas Eve/Day at 211B Baker St.
"John!" You cried as you ran into the infamous 221B flat, where Dr John Watson and The Great Sherlock Holmes lived. You were greeted by a confused, concerned he checked over you for any sign of harm. "What? What's wrong?" He asked, worry evident in his voice. You sighed, throwing yourself down on the sofa - rather dramatically - whilst shaking your head.
"I don't know what to get Sherlock for Christmas!" You exclaimed, hiding your face with your hands as you heard John sigh in relief. "For god's sake. I thought it was something more serious." He shook his head. "You sounded like you were in trouble!" He put his hands on his hips, giving you a stern stare. You removed your hands, throwing them down to your sides. "But I am!" You whined as John just shook his head once again before taking a seat in his armchair. "Y/N, you're beginning to become a dramatically, just like Sherlock." He mumbled as he picked up his paper. You glared at him. "Alright then, what have you got for the picky Sherlock Holmes?" You raised an eyebrow, challenging him as you sat forward, resting your arms on your knees.
"A pair of socks." He answered simply and shrugging. "Y/N, you seem to forget Sherlock isn't exactly one to be thankful for gifts... Or anything." He didn't look up from his paper. "I know, I know, but still... I can't imagine he's even had a good Christmas since he was a kid and showed some sort of joy." You are half-joked, half-serious. John smirked at your comment. "I want to give him something special, something I know he'll appreciate."
"Just get him another skull. I'm sure he'd love it," John answered. "You know, it's the perfect gift. Doesn't speak, listens to him whenever he shows off, doesn't move or breathe..." John trailed off as you let out a frustrated moan, throwing yourself back onto the sofa. You sat in thought.
Sherlock was your best friend, along with John - of course. No matter how annoying Sherlock got, you always stuck by him. It was hard, but you always got through to him after a few hours. Or days. Or even weeks. Still, you get through to him eventually. You hated to admit it. You let yourself stupidly fall for the consulting detective. You always hid away your feelings for a long time. You didn't want to make anything awkward. After a few moments of silence, you heard the door creak open, revealing the one and only Sherlock Holmes.
"Got what you wanted?" John asked, still not looking up from his laptop. Was he even reading that thing? "Yes," Sherlock walked through into the kitchen. You noticed he was holding a bag full of what appeared to be blood. You shook your head at his antics. "You know, normal people draw, sing, birdwatch or collect stamps in their free time..." You finally spoke, seeing John smile at your comment. "You might want to be careful. People might start to think you're a vampire if you come home with more of those." You joked, looking up as Sherlock re-entered the room, an emotionless look on his face. "Well. Very, very funny, Y/N." He spoke with his monotone voice. You smirked at him as he took off his jacket, hanging it on the back of the door. "What are you doing here? Forget the way back to your flat?" He retorted. "Might be, but I love your happy go lucky attitude. I can't stay away." You beam smiled as he rolled his eyes, finally removing his scarf. His scarf? Scarf? You instantly jumped up, a smile plastered on your face. As you jumped up, you grabbed the attention of both men as they gave you odd looks.
"You okay?" John raised an eyebrow, putting his paper down. You still smiled, nodding. "I've just had an idea." You then turned on your heel, rushing out the flat, leaving the two men confused.
You were sitting in the flat of 221B, sitting in John's usual seat with your legs tucked up towards your chest, your chin resting on your knees as you stared at the fire. It made the whole room feel Christmassy. John was out at his sister's for the day and, Sherlock was probably on a case. Only he would be doing that on Christmas Eve. You decided to wrap Sherlock's gift, sitting down on the floor with everything you needed laying out in front of you. Honestly, you sucked at wrapping. It was so tricky. Well, for you anyway. You carefully placed his present in the centre of the paper. You decided to buy him a dark blue scarf, but to make it more personal, you had gotten 'SH' embroidered onto the bottom of one of the scarfs ends. You folded the wrapping paper over the scarf, grabbing the tape, beginning to try and stick down the paper. You first got the tape stuck to your fingers, then the second time, it somehow caught your hair. It was impossible. After a good twenty minutes of attempting to wrap it successfully, you had finally done it.
Well, you held up the wrapped scarf pretty well. You were so into wrapping, didn't hear the door open and, someone enters.
"What are you doing?" You instantly jumped up, hiding the wrapped present behind your back, putting your free hand on your heart. "You scared me."
"Obviously." He narrowed his eyes, seeing all the mess you'd made on the floor. He then looked back at you, seeing you had tape stuck on your cheek. "You have some tape on your cheek." Your eyes widened slightly as he gently pulled it off. "I hope you're going to clean up your mess." He strolled past you as he headed to the kitchen, sitting down at his usual spot at the table, putting his coat on the side as he sat at his microscope. You took this as an opportunity to place the present on top of the mantelpiece before cleaning the mess. "Did you have a case?" You asked as you walked into the kitchen to bin everything.
"Hmm." He responded, not saying much else, obviously concentrating. You rolled your eyes, assuming he would be quiet for the rest of the night. You wandered back into the living room, taking your place on Sherlock's chair this time, could watch him in the kitchen. After a few minutes, you felt your eyes begin to grow heavy as you pulled up your legs and leaned your head on the side of the chair. It shouldn't have been comfy, but somehow it was. After a few minutes, you slowly fell asleep.
You opened your eyes gradually, feeling disoriented. It was morning. You'd fallen asleep in Sherlock's chair but, it was his bedroom. You looked down, getting off from blanket cover over your sleeping. You sat up, stretching your arms and legs out. The whole flat was silent. You decided to go freshen up, heading to the bathroom. You looked through the cupboards, finding a new spare toothbrush use that to clean your teeth. Luckily your make-up mostly managed to stay on, meaning you still looked acceptable. You left the bathroom, being greeted by Sherlock. You jumped at him standing there, staring down at you. "Morning, Sherlock." You spoke, smiling slightly. "Merry Christmas."
"Yes, morning." He replied, instantly brushing past you to enter the bathroom, slamming the door shut. Wow, someone was not a morning person. You put on the kettle, deciding to make tea for everyone. You knew John would be up soon. He must have got in late. You made the tea and set it down on the coffee table in the living room. You poured yourself a cup from the teapot and sat on the sofa. You noticed Sherlock's present hadn't moved from the mantelpiece. You heard the bathroom door open. "Sherlock, I made tea." You didn't hear a response as you heard his bedroom door slam. You sighed. Now was a good time to head back to your flat and pick up the gifts. You left John a note telling him you'd be back later in the day.
After you had showered and changed into new clothes, you grabbed the gifts and headed back over to 221B. You shortly arrived, heading straight up to the top flat, hearing multiple different voices. Everyone had already arrived. You entered, being greeted by everyone saying 'hello' and smiling. Sherlock was standing at the window, his back to everyone, as John walked over, helping you either your bags or gifts for everyone. "Merry Christmas! Everyone!" You receive 'merry Christmas' back from every friend, except Sherlock Holmes. What was wrong with him? You chose to wander over to him, joining him at the window. "Are you okay?" You asked, looking up at him out the corner of your eye. "Yes. Why wouldn't I be?" He replied annoyingly.
"Oh. How would I know that, Mr Holmes?" You extended your voice back, staring out the window. You watched as the snow fell from the sky, leaving a white blanket on the ground. It was beautiful.
"Presents!" Mrs Hudson called, everyone gathered around. You went and joined them, Sherlock rolling his eyes as he sat at his desk, doing things on his laptop. You have out your presents last. You got John a cream jumper, Mrs Hudson a new teacup set, Lestrade a pair of leather gloves and Molly a patterned cardigan. You loved to watch people opening gifts. You loved making them happy. You stood up, grabbing one last gift from the mantelpiece. "Sherlock." You walked over to him. He looked up at you as you handed him your gift, his eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. "It's for you." You stated the obvious, as he hesitantly took it carefully. He slowly unwrapped it, ripping the paper. Everyone else had gone back talking and laughing, not paying attention. Sherlock didn't look up as he finally got rid of all the fancy paper to reveal the dark blue scarf. He set it down gently, seeing the embroidered 'SH' in gold. You stood anxiously.
'Oh god, he hates it.' Another moment of silence. 'Oh god, what do I do?'
As you were about to say something, Sherlock stood up, holding the scarf in his hands. He looked down at you. "Thank you, Y/N." He finally spoke, again staring down at the gift. You sighed in relief, glad he had finally said something and that it was thanks. The next thing he did was completely new and completely unexpected. He leant forward and placed a gentle kiss on your cheek, pulling away quickly. "Merry Christmas, Y/N."
'Oh my god, he kissing me!' Your eyes widened in panic. 'Oh god, what the hell?'
You blink, breathe. "Merry Christmas, Sherlock." You have him a short smile, a short freaks smile. He then excused himself, grabbing his jacket. He didn't explain himself as he left, taking his new scarf with him. You turned to see John staring at you, an expression of confusion on his face, but also a little smirk showing on his lips.
After everyone left, you were with John and Mrs Hudson. Mrs Hudson had drunk way too much sherry and, John helped her downstairs to her flat. He helped you clear up before stating he was going to bed after considering it late. You bid him good night as you sat at the kitchen table. After a few minutes of silence, you heard the door open, revealing Sherlock, who was wearing his new scarf around his neck, holding a bag in his hand. You raised an eyebrow, questioning him with just a look.
"We didn't eat." He stated, putting the bag on the kitchen table. The smell suddenly hit you. Chips. You smiled as he began to pull out two bags of chips, handing you one. "How did you even get these? It's Christmas Day. Everywhere is shut?" You asked, opening your bag, beginning to dig into them.
"I know people." He stated, beginning to eat his, sitting opposite you. "You know people who get you... Chips?" You laughed lightly.
"I got Mr Higgins off of a murder charge. He owed me." He said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. You shook your head, smiling at him still.
"Where did you go?" You paused. "You've been gone for a good four hours."
"I had people to see." He shrugged. "By that, you mean you paid Mycroft a visit." You smirked and, he didn't reply. You had become accustomed to his ways. You knew he did deep down care for his brother and vice versa. "I hope you sent him my Christmas list. There's a lot on there that I expect to be under my tree when I get home." You joked as Sherlock gave you a grin. You both sat in silence as you finished your chips. Not long after, you decided you should head home. You bid Sherlock good night as you left, hailing a cab. You were lucky there was even one travelling around Baker Street.
You took one last look up at 221B, seeing Sherlock looking out the window. You waved at him as he watched you get into the cab and drive away. You quickly arrived home the snow had stopped. You entered your flat, turning on the lights. You put your bag down as you smiled to yourself.
You were about to go to bed when you saw something under your Christmas tree. It was- A present? You narrowed your eyes, heading over to it, picking it up. It was wrapped in red paper with a bow on top. You looked at the tag, seeing who sent:
'Merry Christmas, Y/N - SH'
You couldn't help but smile as you opened it, revealing your favourite book. This book had lost when you moved, much to your disappointment, and never got round to buying another new one. You smiled to yourself as you placed it gently down on the coffee table, grabbing your phone.
'Thank you for the present. Goodnight. Mr Holmes.'
You texted him, receiving a text shortly after:
