No Sh*t, Sherlock

Mother's Day

Alternative title: Sentiment

TW
-too much fluff
-ooc Sherlock and John (just a bit)

(The necklace above is the gift, it'll make sense in the end)

Happy Mother's Day to all the mothers out there!

~

Sherlock Holmes stared at the handmade picture frame holding a photo of him, John Watson, and Mary Hudson at John's wedding- the only picture he could find with the three of them.

A second object- a handmade jasper stone necklace- lay on the floor besides the picture frame. A foot away from the two gifts was a roll of wrapping paper he had found in John's room, a pair of medical suturing scissors, also from John's room -why they didn't own regular scissors was beyond Sherlock, useless information he didn't want to retain- and a roll of tape.

Sherlock blinked. Why did he even make these? Because it was mother's day?

He didn't even care about his own mother. Sherlock knew that he had made them for Mrs. Hudson, his and John's landlady.

The woman treated John and Sherlock like her own children and Sherlock loved her as a mother.

Stupid sentiment, making him create a mother's day gift for someone who wasn't biologically related to himself.

Sentiment was a chemical defect found on the loosing side, as Mycroft liked to say.

Sighing, Sherlock pushed the gifts and wrapping supplies away and stood up, brushing off his perfectly tailored trousers, all the while pushing the sentiment he felt towards his landlady down to the bottom of his heart. Or, to the darkest recesses of his mind palace- many people had claimed over the years that Sherlock Holmes didn't have a heart.

Sherlock was about to open his computer and check John's blog (however much he hated it) for any new cases when the author himself opened Sherlock's door.

Sherlock looked up at John with a sharp glare. "Haven't you learned to knock?"

John just gave a short laugh. "You never knock either, I'm just returning the favor."

Sherlock huffed and turned back to his laptop. "What do you want." He asked in a low, monotone voice.

John took a step forward and looked around, his gaze catching on the abandoned gifts on Sherlock's floor.

Sherlock froze. He forgot to hide them.

John bent over and pick the items up, holding the picture frame in his left and clutching the necklace in his right. "Aw, Sherlock, is this a mother's day gift?"

Sherlock didn't respond, instead opting to train his gaze on the opposite wall.

John smiled. "Is it for your mum?"

"No..." Sherlock muttered. While John wasn't the most observant, Sherlock could tell that he had seen right through the detective.

"Mrs. Hudson, then?"

Sherlock desperately tried to hide the blush that had crept up his cheeks. Why was he blushing, anyways? He never got embarrassed, let alone flustered-

"You should give them to her, she'll love them. She doesn't have children, you know." John said, sitting on the floor next to the festive wrapping paper and tape. "My suturing scissors? For removing stitches? Oh, Sherlock..." John laughed, holding up said suturing scissors.

Sherlock huffed again, unrelenting his gazing at the wall. "We don't own normal scissors."

John laughed. "Why would you want normal scissors? You're anything but normal." When Sherlock didn't respond, John put the scissors down. "Well, do you at least want to help me wrap these?"