A Chance To Stay Alive - Johnlock

21) The Quiet Night In

"John the sprouts are burning," Sherlock pointed out sleepily as he slouched in his armchair, watching John running around hopelessly in the kitchen, trying his hardest to cook the  Christmas dinner correctly.
"I'm trying Sherlock!" The blonde boy cried, quickly taken a tray of pigs in blankets from the oven and placing them on the side along with the vegetables and potatoes.
The curly-haired boy found the whole scene rather amusing and sat chuckling to himself, his new bumblebee socks just about poking out from under his jeans.
"Don't forget the turkey."
John let out a small yelp as he quickly pulled out the turkey and put it down carefully onto the side.
"Thanks," he mumbled, out of breath, as he dished up the food and slid it onto the table as Sherlock followed him.
"I'm not exactly Gordon Ramsay."
The curly-haired boy grinned as he slipped into a seat opposite from him.
"Certainly not, you don't swear enough," he added, meeting John's gaze.
John chuckled at this as he picked up his knife and fork and picked up a slice of turkey, chewing on it thoughtfully. Sherlock smiled and nibbled at his food, watching his flat mate from the corner of his eye. It was clear that the blonde boy had gotten right into the Christmas spirit: he was draped in Sherlock's old jumper and had a little Santa hat on his head, something that Sherlock found to be rather cute.

The two got through their lunch in comfortable silence, with John occasionally making a joke or Sherlock commenting on how good the food tasted. Once they were eventually fit to burst, John escorted the curly-haired boy back into the living room and helped him onto the sofa, slipping a wooden blanket over him and laying besides him, clutching an arm around the boy's chest. Sherlock squeezed the blonde boy reassuringly as he listened to the comforting sound of the fire nearby, closing his eyes.
"I love you, you daft thing," John mumbled, his eyes closed as he ran his tanned fingers through the boy's curls.
"You too," Sherlock hummed quietly, clutching to the smaller boy as he drifted to sleep, his gentle breathing filling the room therapeutically.

The afternoon was effectively spent playing Sherlock's brand new game of Cluedo. Of course he had worked out the answers all with ease, much to the dismay of John.
"I'll be telling Greg all about the little gift he gave you," he huffed as the curly-haired boy announced yet another answer.
Sherlock chuckled to himself as he leant back in his chair, gazing at John in awe.
"Another round!" He decided, clapping his hands and reaching for the dice before John began to laugh.
"You've found all the answers to the three last rounds though! Last time you did it within a minute of starting!"
Sherlock gave a proud smirk before nodding triumphantly.
"Exactly," he grinned.
"Git," the blonde boy muttered, his face showing that of mild amusement as he got to his feet, ruffling Sherlock's curls before beginning to pack away the game.
"How about a movie?" He asked, sliding the box underneath the desk of drawers.
"You choose - just nothing too...you know...A Sherlock movie."
Sherlock frowned at this and raised an eyebrow.
"A Sherlock movie?" He repeated, clearly confused.
"What does that even mean?"
John sighed.
"You know, one of those horror ones you like."
The skinny boy scoffed before scanning through his many DVDs, eventually pulling out a rather old, battered DVD.
"Miracle on 34th Street," John read aloud, his eyes shining with interest.
"What's it about."
Sherlock leant back thoughtfully in his chair, a broad smile on his face.
"Well; there's a young girl called Susan, and her mother explains to her that Santa doesn't exist. Then she meets a man who claims to be the real Santa," he hummed.
The blonde boy nodded silently, gazing down at the DVD.
"And is he?"
The two's eyes momentarily met.
"As long as you believe so," the curly-haired boy explained.

Both boys laid silently on the sofa for the next few hours, watching the movie with deep interest. Sherlock laid behind John, an arm slipped around his chest and his fingers stroking through the boy's golden hair. John said nothing, he simply laid back close to Sherlock, grateful for the warmth the taller boy was providing. Once it had ended, John rolled onto his back and gazed up at the curly-haired boy, a warm satisfied smile on his face.
"What do we do now?" He whispered, leaning against Sherlock and brushing against his neck.
Sherlock bit his lip and closed his eyes thoughtfully.
"Well - what do people normally do at Christmas?" He asked softly.
The blonde boy paused for a moment, his brown eyes suddenly lighting up.
"They kiss ... under the the mistletoe," he hummed in response, turning to face his flat mate.
"I-I don't have any mistletoe," Sherlock mumbled, his cheeks flushing pink.
"That doesn't matter," John grinned, leaning forward and brushing his lips past Sherlock's, wrapping his arms around the curly-haired boy and gently closing his eyes. The moment their lips touched Sherlock felt a wave of hope come over him as he slid his arms around John, pulling him closer; all while through the window snow continued to fall onto the sleepy road of Baker Street. It had been a very merry Christmas.

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