Tall Buildings and Pill Bottles - A Johnlock Story

Christmas

AN: It's late Christmas Eve when I'm writing this btw.

Johns POV
By the time that Christmas Eve had rolled around, it was apparent that Sherlock wasn't one for Christmas tradition. He didn't exactly care for trees, or stockings, or any of it, really. But, as soon as he learned I loved it, he instantly was helping out things up, and learning Christmas songs on his violin. He'd particularly taken to the idea of Mistletoe, snogging my face off at any given opportunity. I really didn't mind, I loved it. Lestrade was having a Christmas party tonight, another thing that Sherlock wasn't particularly excited for.

"I just don't see why we have to go, John, I really don't." He huffed, straightening my bow tie. I stood on my tip toes to kiss him, and rolled my eyes. "Love, we've been over this," I replied. He huffed again, and looked away. I kissed his cheek before tying his tie. His eyes flitted back to me, his gaze intense. I finished, and met his gaze. Surprisingly, it was loving, and soft. "It'll be fine, Sherlock, trust me okay?" He sighed, and dipped down again to kiss me one last time. "Fine."

The cab ride wasn't exactly eventful, other than Sherlocks complaining. It was more of an office party than anything, but the two of us were invited  since we worked there and with them so much. Some of the Scotland Yard staff, mainly Donovan, were quite upset when Lestrade invited us, but he'd shut them all up by mentioning that Sherlock did in fact solve the majority of their cases. Sherlock would never say, but he'd been extremely grateful when Lestrade finally snapped at them. Anderson had stood with him, he was just full of surprises.

Sherlock held the cab door open for me when we'd arrived, kissing me lightly as I got out. Lestrade greeted us warmly at the door, and lead us inside where everyone was. We received a few dirty glares from people, again, mainly Donovan and her little crowd of friends. Anderson had ditched her, so she'd surrounded herself in an entirely new friend group. They were all snide, wearing dresses that were scandalously short and tight, and whispering. Sherlock looked uncomfortable under their piercing gaze, before I pulled him away.

I ended up pulling him to the drinks table, mainly because it was as far as possible from the group of Donovan's minions. Glasses of champagne and wine lay out on the table, and I quickly grabbed some for the two of us. Christmas music played in the background, occasionally mixing with pop songs. The mix was odd, but I didn't really mind that much. The two of us talked for awhile, still aware of the gossiping gits in the other side of the room. Whatever they were talking about, it was clearly surrounding the subject of our relationship. I saw Sherlock glancing over at them nervously on multiple occasions.

"Ignore them, love, they're nothing but horrible." He'd been glancing at them again, and turned to face me. He wrapped an arm around my waist, sipping his drink. "Hm," was his only response. Lestrade walked up to us, "Sherlock, John! How are you? Sorry I'd didnt get around to talking to you sooner, there were some things to take care of." He smiled genuinely. "Ta, its good, we've just been talking," I answered, Sherlock burying his head into my shoulder. "Yeah, how's everything, now that the media has finally died down a little."

After the initial release of our relationship, the media frenzy had been so bad that Sherlock had ended up calling Mycroft to put a stop to it. I chuckled lightly at the memory. Sherlock was the one who answered, "things are lovely Lestrade, how are thing with you?" I glanced at him, surprised at his cordialness. Greg, too, was surprised but just smiled and nodded. "Good, good," He answered, and glanced at me. I shrugged, Sherlock had taken his head off of my shoulder. The three of us talked for awhile longer before Greg excused himself to do hostly duties.

Surveying the room, I realized that people had begun dancing. The radio was mainly playing slower songs now, and a few couples had begun slow dancing. One song ended, and another one began a few moments after. Sherlock locked an arm around my waist. "Care to dance Dr. Watson?" He murmured darkly into my ear. I smiled and suddenly I was swept up into the dance. Sherlocks hand gripped my waist and I felt pure bliss looking into his eyes. They glowed with love and affection, wonderfully for me. I was still absolutely astonished at how that look was reserved only for me.