|dani_meows (dani_meows) wrote in bipolardanicats,|
@ 2011-12-02 06:49:00
Deck The Skull With Boughs Of Holly 2/24
Title:Deck The Skull With Boughs Of Holly 2/24
Fandom: Sherlock BBC
Word Count: 500
Notes: Okay more a short story than a drabble but Sherlock muse had a lot to say today... typoed the title yesterday, but we just won't tell my mom that I misspelled her plant namesake.
Sherlock was irritated as he walked upstairs. He'd said that he'd be out all day working on his experiments at Bart's but he'd done nothing more than check on them, before spending the whole day attempting to find a Christmas present for John.
He'd found smaller presents to stuff the man's stocking, mostly different types of tea. He'd found the smaller and less significant presents to put around the tree, several nice jumpers that he thought John would look amazing in and that were soft so when he leaned his head on John's shoulder after a long case he'd be comfortable... but finding an actual gift? That was proving impossible.
John didn't like fancy or expensive gadgets and when asked insisted that he'd be fine with anything Sherlock bought him. While that was both true and somewhat comforting, Sherlock wanted to get John a gift that would say what he could not put into words, a gift that would show all the things that John was to him. What do you get for the man that saves you from yourself, makes you feel and who never tries to change you? Jumpers and tea are highly inadequate.
His irritation faded at the sound of laughter upstairs. He could smell ginger and other spices as the smell wafted downwards.
He grinned and darted upstairs to join Mrs. Hudson and John. Mrs. Hudson had heard about John's desire for Christmas last night and after she'd cursed John's parents for never giving her dear boy a proper Christmas she'd insisted that she help John bake cookies.
They were decorating gingerbread men. Mrs. Hudson was putting the finishing touches on “that annoying Anderson bloke” as she explained. John's tongue was sticking out slightly as he concentrated on putting the finishing touches on his decorations. He dipped the frosting brush in the black and continued painting Sherlock's coat on a ginger bread man that was skinnier than the rest.
They were getting ready to put the frosting away when Sherlock noticed the problem. There were gingerbread men of all the people at the yard, John's surgery, Mrs. Hudson, even Mycroft (with a cocktail umbrella) and his name changing assistant were represented but there was no John Watson.
“There's no John! There needs to be a John!” he insisted when both of his favorite people asked him what was wrong.
Sherlock washed his hands thoroughly and got to work. He painted on a jumper and a pair of pants... did his best to give the face one of his favorite John expressions (the you're brilliant and an idiot at the same time did you know that, look), he made a little prop gun for one hand and using candy and paint made a stethoscope for the other.
A John Watson gingerbread man for the the gingerbread Sherlock...
“We should make a gingerbread house next...” he'd found himself saying. Bloody hell he was getting into the Christmas Spirit. What next playing carols on his violin?