One-shots/Short Stories

BBC Sherlock

Christmas Presents
"Daddy?"
   "Yes, Layla?"
   "Will Santa get me presents?" Sherlock stared down at his five-year-old daughter. He was in the middle of a case looking in his microscope when she came and started blurting out questions.
   "Santa?" Sherlock questioned. "Layla, Santa -"
   "Ahem." Sherlock glanced in the direction where John sat, seeing John glaring at him.
   "What?" Sherlock said.
   "I don't think Amelia would like it if you tell your daughter the truth about Santa." John replied. Sherlock's mouth opened in realisation. He knew not to get on his wife's bad side. The last time he did, he was sleeping on the couch for two days.
   "What truth about Santa?" Layla looked up at her father innocently. Sherlock gave John a panicked look.
   "Um - er. . ." Sherlock stuttered. "The truth. . .that. . .you have been a very good girl." Her eyes lightened up at his words.
   "Really?" Layla exclaimed.
   "Mh-hm." Sherlock nodded. Nice save, he self praised.
   "Does that mean I am going to get lots of presents?"
   Uh-oh, Sherlock thought. "Um. . .yes?"
   "Yay!" Layla started prancing around the apartment, chanting, "I'm gonna get lots of presents, I'm gonna get lots of presents!"
   "Ooh, you are so in it from Amelia." John chuckled, updating his blog while he was at it. "I think the couch is calling for you, mate."
   "Shut up." Sherlock grumbled, glaring down at his microscope. "As long as Amelia doesn't know, everything will be okay."

***

"Mummy! Mummy!"
   "Yes Layla?" Amelia walked into the flat with a tired look, while hiding the presents behind her back. Christmas was in two days, and she had quickly went to the shops to get last-minute presents.
   "Guess what Daddy told me!"
   "What did he tell you, dear?" Amelia walked towards her and Sherlock's bedroom (giving Sherlock a kiss on the cheek as she went by), and hid the presents before walking back out again. She noticed John was in the flat as well, giving him a quick greeting before focussing on her daughter.
   "Daddy said I am getting lots of presents!"
   Amelia flicked her eyes over to Sherlock at the kitchen, who was effectively avoiding her gaze, playing with the nobs on his microscope nervously. "Did he now?"
   "Yeah! He said since I have been a good girl, Santa is going to get me lots of presents!"
   "I'm sure he will." Amelia said through gritted teeth. "Right, Sherlock?"
   "Of course, dear." Sherlock nodded quickly. "Um, Layla? Why don't you go to your room for a while, yeah? Uncle John, Mummy, and I are going to have an adult talk."
   "Okay!" When Layla was out of earshot from them all, Amelia whacked him on the back of his head, giving him a glare.
   "You idiot!" she seethed. "Lots of presents? We're not rich, Sherlock!"
   "He was also close to telling your daughter that Santa wasn't real." John added in unhelpfully.
   "What!"
   "I'm guessing the toy shops and all that are calling for me." Sherlock sighed in defeat, standing up and grabbing his coat. "Come on, John. You're assisting me."
   "Why?"
   "Because you pulled me into this by making it worse." Sherlock glared at him. "Amelia didn't need to know that."
   "Amelia is still here." she glared at him. "You better get our daughter lots of presents like you stupidly promised, or else your new friend is going to be the couch."

***

While walking through the shopping centres, John decided to tease his friend. "So, I'm guessing it was a lie."
   "What was a lie?"
   "You're not the dominant one in the relationship."
   "What?"
   "From what it looks like, Amelia is the one in charge in the relationship."
   "That's not true!" Sherlock exclaimed. John snickered at him in response. "She's just. . .not nice when in her bad mood."
   "She's the dominant." John sung out.
   "Oh piss off!" Sherlock snapped. "What about you and Mary, huh? Obviously Mary is the man in the relationship."
   "What? That's not true!" John exclaimed.
   "Hmm. . .it is."
   "No it isn't -"
   "Who mows the lawn? Who drives the car? Who tells you what to do in the house?"
   John sighed in defeat. "Yeah, I guess she is." John agreed. "We chose some independent women, eh?"
   "I guess we did." Sherlock shrugged. "And we wouldn't want it any other way."
   "Anyway, I can't imagine you with some, 'Damsel in distress'." John scoffed.
   "You've dated some 'Damsel in Distress'." Sherlock pointed out.
   "Yeah." John shrugged. "They never last, hey."
   "No," Sherlock agreed, "too clingy. Besides, no one could ever match Amelia. She's the one. And she is the mother of my child and my wife."
   "Yeah, you two are good for each other." John told him.
   "Thank you."
   "It's amusing, seeing you acting as a submissive to her -"
   "Oh for God's sake!"

The End