BBC Sherlock Imagines (Book 2)

Sherlock: Twas the Night Before Christmas

Mixed a lot of ideas in here... You'll recognize yours at some point if you entered one.

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"Do I open it now?" asked Sherlock as you shoved a present in his face. You had pulled him aside from the Christmas Eve party you two had thrown at 221B. You nodded eagerly. "But why before everyone else opens theirs?"

"Just open it, hurry," you urged, losing your patience quickly. He complied, tearing a corner of the wrapping paper. A spot of red fabric peeked out, and he looked at you with one eyebrow raised before continuing to tear off the rest of the wrapping paper.

He unfolded the present and held it out in front of him staring. "Oh, you got me something to clean my tools off after dissecting stuff," he said, inspecting it closely.

"No Sherlock," you groaned. "It's called an ugly Christmas sweater. I knew you wouldn't wear one for the party, even though it's ugly sweater themed, so I went and bought one for you myself."

He just stared at it, a disgusted look on his face. "I'm not wearing this," he said, throwing it in your face.

You grabbed onto his arm to stop him from walking away, and glared. "Everyone is wearing one, even your brother," you argued, glancing at Mycroft who was supporting a neon red sweater with booger colored Christmas trees printed on.

"Everyday is an ugly Christmas sweater party for him," he muttered.

"If you love me you'll wear it," you said. You were bringing out the big guns.

He didn't speak for a moment, his mouth hanging slightly open. "And if you love me you won't make me wear it." He kissed your forehead, leaving you speechless.

You rolled your eyes, but you were determined to have it on him by the end of the night. You followed him out to the living room, where everyone was gathered around something, all freaking out. "What's going on?" you asked, and gasped when you saw Molly laying on the floor, passed out. "What happened? Is she okay?"

"I don't know, she just fainted or something," said Mary.

"Probably had her knees locked, quite a nasty habit," commented Mycroft.

"She's still breathing, thankfully," said John who was knelt down by her testing her pulse and other vitals.

"Well of course she's breathing, it was just supposed to knock her out and put her in a deep sleep." Everyone turned to who had spoken, which was Sherlock. He stood a distance away, sipping something casually out of a cup. He checked the watch on his hand. "I noted her taking her first drink at 5:31. Only took 13 minutes and 23 seconds, a shorter amount of time than I thought.

"What are you talking about?" asked John, getting up from the floor.

"The eggnog of course," said Sherlock. "Did anyone else take a drink of it yet? If so, please tell me what time exactly so that I can log it for data purposes."

"Sherlock," you hissed, "what did you do to the eggnog?"

He shrugged. "Just added in a new experiment I've been working on," he said.

"You do realize this is the second time you've drugged someone's drink?" said John. Then he looked around at everyone worriedly. "No one else took a drink yet right?"

"Was just about to when she dropped," said Greg, setting his cup down. Everyone else shook their heads no, and a sigh of relief filled the room.

"Well now we have nothing to drink besides water," you grumbled, glaring at your husband who looked confused at your anger. "Or I guess we could open the Christmas present I gave to Greg early," you chuckled.