That's What I Want For Christmas

Prompt: What do you get the man who means everything to you for Christmas? (both perspectives)

What do you get the man that means everything to you for Christmas?  A fairly simple question, one would think it would have a fairly simple answer.  Sherlock knew he could deduce at least twelve different things that would make John happy.  But they were all “things”.  Items, gifts anyone could buy John and make him smile.  Sherlock wanted to give John a gift that no one else could.  But what could that be?  Sherlock steepled his fingers and began to think.

At the clinic across town, John was contemplating the same question.  Except Sherlock was notoriously difficult to buy for.  And he was just as likely to deduce what was wrapped up in the pretty paper and ribbon instead of opening the gift.  Besides, he wanted it to be special.  Something that would make Sherlock’s eyes light up.  Something besides a murder.

Christmas Day arrived.  Under the tree in 221B there were two lovely, carefully wrapped boxes.  Sherlock had been so worried about his gift he hadn’t bothered trying to figure out what John had gotten him.  But now as he stood in his dressing gown and pyjamas, staring at the box, he realized he absolutely had no idea what it was John had gotten him.  John walked up beside him and handed him his mug of tea.

“Happy Christmas.”

“Mmm,” was Sherlock’s reply.  John just smiled.

“Shall we open our gifts?”  John asked almost shyly.  Sherlock looked side-eyed at him.  John wasn’t shy.  What was this about?

“You first.”  Sherlock picked up the long, thin box with John’s name on it.  John set down his tea and took the gift from Sherlock.  The taller man watched intently as John tore the paper and began to unwrap his gift.  He still wasn’t sure it was the “right” gift for John, but it was special and it meant a great deal to him to give it to John.

John inhaled sharply when he took the lid off the box.  Inside was a deep blue fabric, running across it were a shade lighter set of thick lines.  He lifted the scarf out of the box, running his fingers across the fabric. It was worn in places, where time and use and caused the fabric to grow slightly thinner.  This wasn’t just any blue scarf.  It was Sherlock’s favorite.  John looked up, shocked, to ask what the meaning behind his gift was.  His mouth snapped shut when he saw Sherlock had already opened his gift from John.

Sherlock stood there looking at the light glinting off the dull grey pieces of metal, the chain hanging loosely from his hand.  There was no way he would have guessed these were in the box John had placed under the tree the night before.  Stamped on the two round disks was the information every soldier wore into battle, just in case he was killed or injured beyond recognition.  Intimate pieces of jewelry that a soldier rarely, if ever parted with. Yet, here in his hands, were John Watson’s dog tags.  He looked at John a bit in disbelief.

John shrugged, “I didn’t know what you’d want, so I gave you what I’d like to have received from you.”  He looked down at the scarf and smiled, his eyes bright when he looked back up.  “It looks like you had the same idea.”

The next time they were called to a crime scene there was some confusion, followed by smug smiles as John appeared wearing Sherlock’s scarf and Sherlock had John’s dog tags on display for everyone to see and John humming  “That’s What I Want For Christmas”.

Click the above link for Nancy Wilson’s version of “That’s What I Want For Christmas”

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kriskenshin asked for:  "After the fall Sherlock creates the character ‘Moran’ so he can control Moriarty’s network and take it down.  John is also trying to take down Moriarty’s network and plans to kill 'Moran’ not knowing it is Sherlock.“

I am really incredibly stoked for this prompt and I really just hope I don’t fuck it up.  (This has been in my drafts for ages but I was lucky enough to meet Kris at 221b Con and I wanted to get this done for her. <3)

There’s an odd hush about the compound as everyone readies their equipment.  Buckles are snapped shut, zippers are pulled closed and ropes are wound.  It is not silent, but the sounds are merely out of necessity.  No one speaks for fear of breaking the delicate calm.

John checks the magazine before snapping it back into his gun.  He adjusts the volume on his radio and recites the pass code for the storage yard in his head.  Months of planning have brought him to this very instant and he can’t let himself down by not being ready.  He is.  It’s time.

John looks around at the group of men and women around him, dressed in black and leather, and grins out of the side of his mouth.  

"Put on your war paint,” he tells them, at last.  Black lines are drawn under eyes and wool balaclavas are pulled down.  They pile into an unmarked van and manhandle their hostage into position.  Then they are out on London’s dark streets, driving towards destiny.

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“Molly would you mind watching Sherlock and John for me tonight? You see, I have a, well, I have a~”

“Oh! You finally asked Greg out!”

“Yes well~”

That’s so wonderful! Of course I’ll babysit. Mycroft, have a wonderful time! And don’t you worry, stay out as late as you want.”


Mycroft never once regretted adopting John after the accident that tragically resulted in the death of the young boys family. Sherlock wasn’t the only one who loved him, they were inseparable and it seemed like Greg was more than happy to accept not only Mycroft but his family as well. ~♥