A/N So this is definitely not my best work. Today was not a good day for inspiration, but this one is kind of neat. Enjoy <3
Sherlock loves Christmas, though he doesn't talk about it that much. He would always put up a fight whenever I would insist on having a get together to celebrate, or when I would decorate the flat. But whenever he gets excited about something, he mentions the holiday. There were other signs, and it took a while but I finally figured them all out. This would be our first Christmas back at 221B, and this year we would have Rosie. It was going to be hard, seeing as how this would be my first Christmas since Mary died, but I wanted Rosie's first Christmas to be special.
Sherlock had taken Rosie to the park, something that was becoming more common since we moved in here. I was using this time to pull out all of my Christmas decorations and start decorating the flat. I was almost done when I heard the front door open, signaling the arrival of my friend and daughter. I grabbed the hat that was lying on the sofa and stood in front of the door, waiting for them to enter the flat. The door opened and in walked Sherlock, carrying Rosie.
"Merry Christmas" I shouted at them, laughing at the shock that filled Sherlock's face. I took my daughter before he could drop her.
"What is going on here?" Sherlock asked, pulling off his coat and looking around in wonder.
"I'm decorating." I started removing the layers of clothes from Rosie. He looked at me with a sarcastic expression, before walking over to us and giving Rosie and giving her a kiss on the cheek. "I figured that since this is Rosie's first Christmas we should celebrate properly." My voice cracked slightly as my mind drifted back to Mary. Sherlock noticed and offered me a soft smile.
"I see, well then we shall need to go shopping."
"Why would we need to go shopping?"
"We for starters, we don't have a proper star. Also we need something to commemorate Rosie's first Christmas." He continued chattering as he pulled his coat back on, handing me mine and taking Rosie from me. I couldn't help but smile at him. He was trying so hard to make things up to me since Mary. I didn't deserve to be treated this way, not after what I did to him. He took Rosie downstairs to stay with Mrs. Hudson while we were out and then we left.
We finally got back after wandering for what felt like hours. I normally hated shopping with Sherlock, he complains a lot and is just irritating, but this time it was actually kind of fun. He had spent most of the time babbling about what we needed and how we could make this the best Christmas ever for my daughter. He was so excited he was almost bounding through the stores, like a kid in a candy store. Now we were back at the flat and he was unpacking the bags, still talking excitedly. We decided to leave Rosie with Mrs. Hudson for a little while longer. I put on the kettle and leaned against the doorframe, watching Sherlock bound around the flat. God, I love that man. The thought crossed my mind so suddenly I almost fell over in shock. I knew I had feelings for Sherlock, but I never thought they were that intense. I had always felt something for him, since that first day we met. But he was married to his work and I am not gay.
"John?" Sherlock's voice cut through my thoughts. I shook my head and looked at the man standing before me. He looked concerned and confused.
"Yeah, sorry" His expression softened.
"Are you OK John?" His voice was lower than normal as he took a step closer to me. I nodded, pushing off the frame and turning to the stove, pulling the now boiling kettle off the burner. I prepared the tea and turned to give Sherlock his cup. I was shocked to see that he had moved closer to me, now standing in the doorframe where I was mere moments ago. I walked towards him, handing him the mug and starting to squeeze past him. I felt a hand on my hip and hesitated, looking up into the pale eyes of my best friend. My heart started to race as I became painfully aware of the minimal distance between us.
"John, please be honest with me." His voice was soft and full of concern. "I know that this is your first Christmas since Mary-" He hesitated on her name, clearing his throat before continuing. "But please don't hide from me. If you are hurting, I will do everything I can to make it better." My heart swelled at these words. I loved him so much I could feel my heart breaking.
"I-I- I wasn't thinking about Mary." He looked confused. "I was just thinking about how much you seem to love Christmas and how much you care for Rosie." His cheeks darkened, and he blinked a few times. He nodded and started to walk away. I felt a sense of panic grip my gut as I felt his hand leaving my hip. "Sherlock," He turned back to me, still close enough that I had to look up slightly to see his eyes.
"Yes John?"
"I-I- I'm not good at this- I was t-thinking-" I stumbled over my words, feeling a blush taking over my cheeks. I have never been good with words, unless they are being written. I stepped closer to him, gently reaching for his face with my free hand. Sherlock doesn't like being touched, that much I knew. I kept my touch as light as I possibly could as I leaned up and pressed my lips against his. It was brief, and I wanted so much more, but I had no idea how Sherlock would take this, so I pulled away. My cheeks burned and I turned and walked over to my chair, plunking down and taking a large swallow of my tea. The flat was silent for a few minutes, both of us processing what just happened. I heard a shuffling and soon after I saw Sherlock's long legs enter my line of sight. He knelt before me and gently took the mug from my hands. He placed it on the table beside me and took my hands in his.
"John, how long have you felt this way?" His voice was soft, even more so than before, and I felt tears of shame pricking my eyes.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that. Just forget it." I was so ashamed, why on Earth would I think that was a good plan? I was an idiot. Sherlock doesn't feel things like that. I felt his cold fingers on my chin as he lifted my head to look at my face.
"John-"
"No, its fine Sherlock, just forget that ever happened. I know you don't like being touched-" My words were cut short by a finger pressing gently against my lips. He trailed the finger along my cheekbone and down my jawline.
"John, please stop interrupting me." I nodded. "Now, how long have you felt this way?"
"Since we first met." My words were just barely above a whisper. He smiled and let out a soft chuckle. "What's so funny?" Instead of answering, he leaned in and softly pressed his lips against mine. It was short and hesitant, but it felt right. He pulled away I felt my heart swell at the vulnerability I saw on his face then.
"You are not incorrect about my not liking to be touched, but I can work around that. I am more concerned about you. I don't want you to feel pressured into anything. We are both recovering from a very rough year. If this is what you want then I will give you everything I am. We can take this as slow or quickly as you want. I want to rebuild our life on a solid foundation." I knew he wasn't done, but I didn't care. I sprung forward and kissed him again, this one needier than the last. He hesitated at the sudden contact, but soon gave in and melted against my lips. The kiss was still gentle, but there was so much emotion packed into it, I felt as though my lungs had all the air pushed out of them. We pulled apart and sat there just breathing for a moment. In that moment, I was happier than I could ever remember being.
"Merry Christmas, Dr. Watson."
