Sherlock Imagines [ Book 2 ]

All I Want For Christmas Is You [ Collab ]

HO HO MOTHERFUCKAS (this is emily)

"WE're here to fuck shit up. And by shit, we mean feelings and emotions." ((this is andrea or @drayizzle ))

We're starting a new tradition

Yearly Christmas collabs together

So Happy Christmas children

Enjoy

Two wild fangirls appear, on with the story 

"I thought Christmas movies were supposed to be happy? Why is this is not happy? WHY CAN THEY NOT JUST BE HAPPY?!" you sobbed, stuffing another handful of popcorn in your mouth.

"Because the whoever wrote this hates the world," commented Mary, wiping her nose and eyes with a tissue.

"On the bright side, it can't get any worse," said Molly, holding a pillow over her face in frustration.

"YEAH IT CAN'T GET ANY WORSE BECAUSE SHE'S DEAD. SHE'S DEAD AND LEFT HER CHILD ALONE WITH HER HUSBAND. CAN YOU IMAGINE? THAT WOULD BE TERRIBLE! THAT CHILD WOULD GROW UP MOTHERLESS AND THEN THE FATHER WOULDN'T KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH HIM AND THEN HE WOULD BECOME DEPRESSED AND AND AND AND AND AND..."" You yelled, throwing pieces of popcorn at the rolling credits.

"Honey, is there something you need to tell us?"

"Uh, no," muttered (y/n), nervous to break the news.

"Well," said Mary, getting up from the couch, "who's ready for the next one?"

You and Molly both raised your hands, ready to brace the next wave of emotions; you only hoped they brought a lot more joy.

~

Meanwhile... In an airport 3,000 miles away... In Queens, New York...

"Is this the right gate?" asked John Watson.

"No John, I led us to the wrong one on purpose," replied a sarcastic Sherlock Holmes.

John scowled at him, "Alright girls calm down." Greg rolled his eyes, stepping inbetween them. The detective smirked at John, who shook his head, muttering something about him being childish.

"Move along, I have a sister and a girlfriend to get home too." Greg gave Sherlock a shove.

"(Your Name) is expecting me too." Sherlock retorted.

"My sister never did have a good choice in men." Greg pushed past him towards the plane, clearly annoyed and exhausted from the week long case in America that had not allotted for much sleep. Sherlock, of course, was fine. But the other two were the walking dead.

"Both of you, COME ON." John snapped, and the pair eventually boarded the plane.

"May I see your ticket?" asked the stewardess to Sherlock.

"No."

"Sir, I need to see your ticket so I can tell you where to sit."

"No."

"Sherlock," hissed John from behind him, nudging his head towards the lady.

"Sir, if you don't let me see your ticket I can't let you sit down." The large fake smile plastered on her face began to droop slightly.

"What? You think I'm using a counterfeit ticket and I'm going to hijack the plane or something?" he asked, smirking humorously.

"Sir-"