Winter Breaks (Johnlock/Teenlock)

5

John sat in his room, attempting to wrap the gifts. He could easily wrap the books, but the skull was difficult. He decided on wrapping it by sticking it in an old box and wrapping that. He scribbled "To:" and then the person he was giving it to and then "From: John" on each gift with a black sharpie.

Once he finished, he picked the gifts up, and carried them to the small Christmas tree that they had. The trees looked like the tree from the Charlie Brown Christmas special. Literally. John was pretty sure it was meant to look like that tree, because no on would willingly get such a small tree and such a large ornament.

After that John went back into his room. He pulled out his new copy of Hamlet and started reading.

Hamlet was a hard book. John was pretty sure there was a ghost, that Horatio saw, but then they completely move on to how said Hamlet is that his father is dead and how Cladius thought it was ridiculous for Hamlet to be so sad.

"John, we're decorating cookies for Santa," John's mum called.

John rolled his eyes. Neither he nor Harry believed in Santa, although possibly George seen as George was quite stupid. But he might as well make the cookies. George was probably going to go in the middle of the night to eat it.

"Coming," John said as he set Hamlet down with a bookmark on page five and ran into the kitchen.

Harry seemed to only come out of her bedroom in the holidays. Even more so ever since she came out as gay. She was dipping a snowman cookie into a tub of Nutella.

John made the gingerbread house following the instructions.

"No, John, the gingerbread girl can't wear pink, she should wear blue!" Harry said, snatching the little gingerbread girl from John's hands.

"What if I made the boy wear pink to?" John asked as he started to ice on a pink t-shirt on the gingerbread boy.

"Fine."

John's mum turned some music on and they all sang to Rockin' Rudolph.

They laughed and chatted and it felt for a moment like a broken household, had been fixed with cookie icing.

~~~

"You two have to write a letter to Santa," Sherlock's mum explained to Sherlock and Mycroft. "It's been a tradition since Sherlock was three, you have to write a letter."

"Mum, we don't believe in Santa," Sherlock whined.

"Too bad, write on a piece of paper all the things you want for Christmas."

Sherlock sat at his desk and pulled a spiral notebook out. He titled a page:

What I want for Christmas even though it's to late for Santa or anybody to get me anything

He listed everything he wanted:

· I'd like people to stop calling me freak

· I'd like Sally and Anderson to move away

· I'd like to know what Lestrade's first name is (I know it starts with a G)

· I'd like to train Redbeard to do fun tricks

· I'd like Mycroft to be less annoying

· I'd like a better education in Chemistry at school

· I'd like Molly to move on from her crush on me

· I'd like John's life to be easier on John

· I'd like John to love me

Sherlock ripped the page out the notebook and put it in the folder he kept all his Christmas wish list in.

Sherlock took Redbeard on another walk.

~~~

John was sitting with his family watching Frosty the Snowman. He saw Sherlock walking Redbeard out the window.

He hopped up.

"Where are you going, John?" Harry asked.

"Just saying hi to a friend," John walked out to Sherlock.

"Sherlock!" John ran over to Sherlock.

"Yes?" Sherlock tried not to smile. Sociopaths don't smile when they see their friends. Sociopaths shouldn't even want their friends to love them. "Hey, what happened to your limp?"

"Huh? I—" John looked down. He walked forward. He walked backwards. No limp. "Wow, I guess I don't have a limp anymore."

"What did you want to say, John?" Sherlock asked.

"I just wanted to wish you a happy Christmas," John grinned.

"It's Christmas Eve, John. Not Christmas," Sherlock said.

"Yeah, well, have a happy early Christmas," John said.

"And same regards to you," Sherlock nodded.

"Thanks," John said. "So what are you doing for Christmas? Other than putting your dog in Christmas sweaters."

Redbeard was wearing a Christmas sweater.

Sherlock reached down to pet Redbeard. "That's my dad. He wants Redbeard to look good in Christmas photos. Redbeard hates it, but we've been doing it for the holidays for three years now. Other than that I'm forced to make a Christmas wish list."

"What'd you out on the wish list?" John asked.

That I want you to have a better life. That I want you to love me. Sherlock was tempted to say. "I want to train Redbeard to do fun tricks."

Oh. John thought So he probably doesn't like me because he would've written that he wanted to date me or something on his wish list. "Cool."

"What are you doing to celebrate?" Sherlock asked.

"We celebrate by just binge watching dumb Christmas movies and classic TV specials," John sighed.

"Oh."

"Yeah," John said.

Sherlock took a deep breath and said hesitantly. "John Watson, do you have any free time tomorrow?"

John just kinda stopped. He stopped thinking. He wasn't breathing. He wasn't blinking. He was pretty sure he would have gotten a heart attack if he were an old man. He didn't have free time on Christmas day. He really didn't. He had a full schedule of Christmas movies and schedules. If he left the house on Christmas, everybody would question it. Especially George. Especially fucking George. John glanced over at his house where he could see through the window his mum sitting on the couch, Harry on the ground (leaning on the couch), and George sitting on his go to recliner. "Yeah, I have free time."

Sherlock's eyes lit like he couldn't believe it. "Really? When?"

"Anytime, just text me 'operation pelican is a go'," John shrugged.

"Pelican?" Sherlock asked. "That's completely unrelated."

"Exactly."