Sherlock Imagines

It's a Christmas Miracle, John Watson! (SherlockxReader)

You had just finished setting up the tree, decorations and all. It's matte black and red ornaments being intwined in the shimmering gold ribbon and surrounded by the glamouring golden stars and bulbs. You did magnificent, the tree was absolutely gorgeous. All that was left was the presents.
"Sherlock! John! Time to put the presents beneath the tree!" You called, and John came, balancing five or six gifts in his arms. You laughed as you put your thirteen under the tree, placing them in specific places to add to your very aesthetic Christmas tree.
"Wow y/n, did you get enough gifts?" John chuckled at his joke, you joined in before answering.
"Yes, definitely. Two for you, and Sherlock, three for Mrs. Hudson, and one for Molly, Greg, Mycroft, and Sherlock's parents. Then another one for Sherlock's mum." You pointed to each corresponding present, John following intently along, laughing as you got to Mycroft. You'd have to send Sherlock's parents' gifts, but you didn't mind too terribly.
"Why on earth would you get a present for Mycroft, of all people!?" Sherlock's disgust evident in his tone.
"Because, Sherlock,  Mycroft has officially decided that I'm his favorite sibling!" You boasted, despite being completely unaware of what exactly that Mycroft had meant by that, but it honoured you, nonetheless. You and John were too busy organizing presents too notice how Sherlock went numb. You turned back to Sherlock, still not giving him as much as a glimpse.
"Got any presents for the tree, Sher?" He stepped forward with a single box, the tag labeled 'John'. You gladly took it from him, placing it gently into the 'present area', making sure both sides were balanced. John took a closer look at the tag, immediately glaring at him.
"Sherlock! You didn't get anything for y/n!?" He exclaimed, "See? This is why I keep saying she'd be happier as my girlfriend!" John's reaction was the same he always had when Sherlock 'messed up', and usually Sherlock didn't take any of it seriously, but something was different. Maybe it was the cold glare he shot John, or the thoughtful gaze it turned into.
"It's fine! Sherlock even letting me hold said festivities here is gift enough!" You insisted, getting a groan from John (when did he get so dramatic?), and Sherlock's thinking gaze looking towards you. He hid it well, but you saw the drift of a smile form on his face, before disguising itself once again.

Now was time for presents, cider, mince pie, and whatever else this American-British Christmas Cross could ask for... Egg nog. You needed egg nog (okay, someone explain to me what the hell this is... please?). Heading into the kitchen to grab the small cartoon, Mycroft took this as his opportunity to get some information off of his brother.
"You have it, I assume?" He couldn't help smiling. As a big brother, Mycroft couldn't help but enjoy this little slice of normal Sherlock was getting. During the start of you two's relationship, he saw you as a weakness and liability to Sherlock. Yet, every time someone tried to get to him through you, Sherlock or you, never seemed to be the ones in tears. There was a certain sense of pride towards an extraordinary man loving an ordinary woman- would Mycroft even call you that? For him, the simple act of dealing with Sherlock's constant childish behavior was enough to prove you extraordinary in his book. But you never stopped at the first ring, no. You always had gone above an beyond, and this time it was no different. Mycroft stole a glance at Sherlock, seeing him watching you, pupils dilated, completely in love for the first time he'd ever known. You were extraordinary beyond Mycroft's definitions, and he was fine with that. He still remembered you taking his phone when he offered you money to spy on Sherlock. He remembered your 'words of wisdom'.
"Being a smart arse can only take you saw far in life. Sometimes you need a chemical defect." Mycroft let his gaze drift to you, watching as you laughed and talked with the landlady while you poured yourself a drink.
"Very well put." Mycroft agreed, returning to watch Sherlock. He could've laughed at the nervous glances to the small velvet box Sherlock held tightly in his hand.
"She will make a wonderful addition to the Holmes family," Mycroft reassured, and for once it wasn't sarcastic, "I, for one, am excited to be getting a sister." The comment had been meant to add an edge (a sarcastic one, that little twat) to the conversation, but neither could hear the tone they could usually feel.
"I haven't asked her yet, how can you be so sure she'll agree to it? I wouldn't, if I were her." He didn't have time to answer, because Lestrade and John began entering the lounge, their voices much louder than need be. In another row, it would seem.
"I'm telling you, John! He acts like they're related! Like she's Sherlock's wife!" Lestrade had a feeling, yet no one seemed to wish to listen to his theory. As your best friend, he felt it was necessary to know Sherlock was going to propose before you did. Let's just say he had an inkling he was right when he over heard Mycroft say, and he quotes, "Ms. l/n is much too close to consider anything, but a sister. Too close to me, too close to brother dearest." He hadn't exactly been subtle about his brother's intentions. Nor had he been very careful with Lestrade's monthly kidnapping.
"I'd chalk Sherlock getting married as a Christmas miracle, Greg Lestrade." This conversation had been a bit off-and-on for awhile now, and they were both trying not to piss anyone off with it, opting to use first and last names for a reason only known to the two. Yes, dear reader, even I, your great narrator, don't know why they did it. Actually... wait. Yes, I do. John started doing it to piss off Lestrade, so he began doing it back... Oops.
"Will you two stop your bickering?" Mrs. Hudson complained while Sherlock avoided the nearly obvious blush creeping to his cheeks. Neither arguing man notices, but Lestrade does see Mycroft's knowing smirk. You had been tuning out pretty much everything, hoping things would be going well, despite the obvious million things that could go wrong. Grabbing the tray of biscuits, you entered the lounge once again, a smile on your face as everyone gathered round. Sadly, Molly had rejected your invitation to come (you can blame Sherlock for that), so it was only you, Mrs. Hudson, Sherlock, John, Mycroft, and Lestrade. Luckily, you had the chance to stop by Molly's flat and drop off the gift earlier. Even dropped the Holmes Parents' gifts off at the post.
"I think it's about the right time for presents, don't you?" Asking no one in particular, you set down the tray, making your way over to the tree to retrieve the gifts. Overlapping murmurs of agreement, as you picked up three random gifts, checking each's tag. You handed each to the corresponding person as you said their name and who they were from.
"To Greg, from John. To John, from Sherlock. To Mrs. Hudson, from me." Mrs. Hudson smiled gratefully at you, Lestrade thanked John politely, and they all started pulling at the wrapping paper.
"Oh my!" Mrs. Hudson lifted her hands to her cheeks, "Thank you, dearie! Should take a page from her book, Sherlock! How'd someone so sweet end up with you!" She drunkly drawled on and on about the sewing set and stitching patterns, fabric included. You laughed as Sherlock shrugged it off, turning his attention to John opening his gift.
"Thanks, Sherlock, I- uh, really like it?" John stumbled as he tried to figure out what 'it' was.
"It's a secret drawer, John." You whispered, the epiphany spread over him like running water.
"Oh! I like it!" He seemed much happier, and was already planning on what to do with it. Hide things from Sherlock, likely. Greg opened his small package, finding a remote starter.
"Thank you, John-" he tried to continue, but the next round of gifts were already being passed around. About seventeen gifts later, none you knew of remained, and you began cleaning up the area around the couch. Sherlock quickly wrapped the box back in its original glittering gold and black papers, before swallowing the first self-doubt he'd ever experienced.
"I believe there's one more, y/n." You were a little stunned by the use of your first name by Mycroft, but eventually turned to look towards him, everyone else seeming to have followed suit. Sherlock was already glaring at Mycroft's smugness as the elder Holmes let the new umbrella you'd gotten him rest on his shoulder. His wolffish grin, which made you question when he started doing that, spread a bit as he looked towards Sherlock. Everyone's gaze followed.
"No, Sherlock only got me a gift, plus there's none left under the tree?" John was thoroughly confused, luckily he wasn't the only one. Softly groaning, Sherlock forced himself up, and walked directly to you.
"Oh, Sherlock! You didn't need to get me anything!" You insisted, already a deep Scarlet colour.
"Technically," he glared at Mycroft who was eagerly awaiting the 'proposal speech' he had heard Sherlock rehearse once or twice, "it'd be as much of a gift to me as to you..." The line took you off guard, as he handed you the box. Along with John, you considered the idea of 'Sherlock' and 'marriage' an almost laughable matter. Especially since the few times he spoke of it, he stated (very matter-of-factly) that marriage was 'nothing more than weight and chains to forever bind two people into the biggest mistake one could ever make'. In his defense, that's what Mycroft had taught him to think.
Sherlock timidly handed you the box, "I have stated my beliefs on marital status numerous times. Mostly stating that if one needs to have a slip of signed paper saying they love the other, it isn't love." Wasn't a total lie, he'd made that point enough. You began undoing the wrapping in slight confusion.
"What you have taught me- made me feel- has bewildered me from day one. I've treated you terribly on days, others I've tried my best, but that's still not good enough for you. I know it. John knows it. Mycroft, Greg and you know it. Yet, you've stayed by my side, not matter how much of a smart arse I am." You smiled up at the reference, fingers carefully unfolding the paper. The velvet brushing against your fingertips made you stop, a slight gasp coming from your lips as Sherlock's hands surrounded yours to take the box. He looked down at the box before continuing.
"My point is; I'm horrible-"
"You've got that right." Pretty much everyone in the room commented, still unsure of where this was going, except for Mycroft, who simply looked a little proud, rather than his planned boredom. Sherlock huffed in annoyance.
"My point is!" He snapped to shut them up, "I'm horrible, terrible, and underserving of your constant affection. I'm clueless to why I react the way I do around you. To why I can hear the speeding of my blood pumping before I feel it, why I get lost when I try to speak to you- little things I've always been able to avoid. I've been rude to you, worse to John," he was really hitting it on the nose, wasn't he? He focused his attention on opening the ring box.
"Yet you always stayed right there, by my side. But, if I may," tears began pricking at your eyes as you finally put the pieces together, no one else seeming to have done so yet, "I'd like to return the favor." He hadn't even finished before you slipped the thin engagement ring onto your finger, pulling him down to plant kiss to his lips, the ring refracting and reflecting the light in a million directions, making the stars dance on the wall, making everyone gasp. A couple jaws hung open, namely John and Lestrade's.
"Don't say it, Greg-"
"IT'S A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE, JOHN WATSON!"