John Watson and the Sociopath

Chapter 5

Christmas is dull. John enjoys it, but in the Holmes' house growing up, it just resulted in many awkward dinners. John, on the flip side, adores Christmas, and if me tolerating Christmas for him ins't love, than Donovan might've been right about me.

I am a freak.

But to say the least, I was less than surprised to learn that John and I were going to get a Christmas tree. John is into all the traditional Christmas workings, so we were going all out apparently. Eggnog, decorations, the works.

After long Hours of choosing the right tree, and, not to mention, getting it into the flat, we finally sat on the couch with some hot cocoa and a fire blazing.

John had the radio on, and some sappy Taylor Swiffer Duster song came on, and I blocked it out. Although, halfway through the song, John's shoulders started shaking, so I listened :

I've been doing fine without you, really

Up until the nights got cold

And everybody's here, except you, baby

Seems like everyone's got someone to hold

But for me it's just a lonely time

Cause there were Christmases when you were mine

Then I realized...

John missed me.

Three years of me being "dead" and John believed I was never coming back. I held my arms out and tilted my head forward. John sniffled and leaned into my embrace. I breathed in his scent, the smell of his shampoo, and slowly the top of his head became damp with my tears. I kissed John-MY John- on the head and leaned down the whisper in his ear:

Merry Christmas, Baby.