Winter Breaks (Johnlock/Teenlock)

4

It was Christmas Eve.

Sherlock texted John.

Sherlock: Happy Christmas Eve.

John: same to you.

Sherlock: by the way, Have you seen Hamlet. I have. It's great. You should read it.

John: You are so random

John set his phone down.

He really fucking hated Christmas. Mostly, he hated gifts. Firstly, like mentioned before, John was practically dirt broke. Secondly, even if he did get a decent present, someone will still get a better gift than him.

John grabbed his wallet and started to head for the door.

"Where are you going?" George asked.

"Eh? I-I'm going gift shopping," John said. He didn't wait for George to respond, he just left.

The neighborhood wasn't close at all to any stores, but John was willing to walk. He calculated prices for gifts in his head.

I don't have much money so that means that I can get a relatively cheap book for mum, or a bookmark— John's mum liked books. She said she saw John's dad, his real dad, in every character she read.— and for Harry maybe a book as well. I can probably get a cheap piece of jewelery.

This went on for a while.

John didn't like shopping all that much. He really did like this store though. This shop was a small indie book shop called Noses in Books. It was one of those shops that use pleasant lights instead of those horridly bright white lights, and they had decorations, not only Christmas ones, everywhere.

"Excuse me, do you have any Danny Doyle books?" John asked, "My mum likes those books."

"Oh yeah sure," the staff member said. She had a black t-shirt with the store's logo on it and a name tag with Sally Donovan written on it. "Danny Doyle books in mysteries, sorted by mystery author names, B, C, oh here, D," she murmured as she looked through the shelves. "I'd recommend the book Curious is the Cat."

John looked at the price tag of the book Sally had recommended. "Sorry, to expensive."

"Then if you're looking for something cheap I'd chose Long Live the Killer," Sally handed another book to John.

"Thanks," John said. "And do you have any realistic fiction books?"

"Yeah that section is over here," Sally led John to the Realistic Fiction section. "What sort of book are you looking for?"

"Realistic Fiction," John answered without hesitation.

"Yes, but what sort?"

John thought for a moment. "My sister likes comedy."

"Oh, your buying for your sister, let me guess, the Danny Doyle book was for your Mum?" Sally nodded.

"How'd you know?" John asked.

"That's just what mothers like to read I guess," Sally shrugged. "Say, you're new here aren't you?"

"How'd you know?" John was starting to think everybody there were mind readers.

"Please, I know every teenager that has walked into this store and that's every teenager in this town," Sally rolled her eyes.

"Right, well yeah, I'm new," John said.

"Alright here's my advice newcomer, to survive school and all that drama and shit, all you have to do is be chill," Sally explained. "And stay away from Freak."

"Freak?"

"Stay away from Sherlock Holmes," Sally said. "The boy's homicidal."

"O-oh. I'll keep it in mind," John said nervously.

"So you said your sister likes comedy, right? I'd recommend The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy," Sally handed John a thin paperback copy book. John skipped reading the description and checked the price. It was cheap enough.

"Thanks," John said. He wasn't sure if he was talking about the advice or the book.

"No problem," Sally shrugged.

John grabbed a book called, "a Brief History of TV" for his stepdad and then spotted a copy of Hamlet and bought that for himself.

After that, John trudged past a random store with completely random things. This one had a Halloween skull with a sticker on it labelling it 'BUY ME! ON SALE FOR 79%! OUT OF SEASON SALE!!!'.

John walked into the small shop. It was deffinetly small, smaller than the book shop he had previously been in. It was full of random things like lamp shades and coins from around the world. There were broken objects like knick knacks that didn't seem to knack, and a stuffed duck missing it's beak.

John walked to the spot by the window where there was the skull on top of a table and picked the skull up. The skull looked worn and when John pulled the jaw down and looked up the throat, he noticed that there was an old battery holder containing old batteries within, wired to two lights in the skull's eyes and a soundbox. It must have cackled or something before it was broken.

John payed for the skull and made his final stop at another shop to get some wrapping paper to wrap all the crap in. The shop offered to cut the wrapping paper in specific sizes and charge by the size like they do with fabrics. John chose a wrapping paper that fitted each person's personality. He chose a gradient purple, a sunrise wrapping paper, a space wrapping paper, and one with a Victorian era-looking sketch on it with women drinking tea that also looked like a skull. For a moment John hesitated before choosing the latter.

Is this weird, he thought, Will I creep him out?

He finally chose to buy the piece of wrapping paper.

As John was walking out of the store he thought about all the things Sally had said about Sherlock. That he was a freak. That he was dangerous—How dangerous  could a fellow fifteen year old be?—. That it was war. That you had to choose sides. John thought about the idea of everybody being split into liking and disliking Sherlock. He considered the idea that he was on a side without knowing it. He decided that he was on a side without knowing it. He then thought about what side. Like, or dislike?

John decided which side of the war he was on.